Page 42 of Frozen Flames

I refuse to believe it and live it.

A loud yell escapes me, and I’m not even sure if I’m screaming or crying out for help.

I exhale, grabbing the armrests of my chair to focus on something else, but in vain. As my head bows and I notice my jeans again, I’m reminded of what just happened.

I close my eyes, swimming out of the anger until I reach for numbness and bask in it like my life depends on it.

Because it does.

Some of us don’t get to live outside our depression.

Some of us only remain alive because of it.

Harvey

Fucking Gemma.

I’m fuming right now. How could she break her promise to me?

How could she get back on a motorcycle after what we went through, on awork tripno less,with her bossno doubt, which is increasing my growing suspicion?

I trusted her when she promised me that. I never expected her to go back on her word.

It was good. I had fun.

That’s what Gemma told her brother-in-law at our family dinner earlier on Wednesday evening. James asked her about getting back on a motorcycle during her trip becausehe knew.

There was no shame, no guilt in Gemma’s voice when she answered him.

None whatsoever.

It killed me to hear that she broke her promise, but it hurt even more to hear her nonchalance about it.

I know she knows what this does to me, yet she doesn’t even care.

I can’t not tell her; I’m going to explode if I keep this inside of me.

I wheel myself to the kitchen once her family is gone, my teeth destroying my bottom lip from the fury. I watch Gemma clean up the kitchen, and for a split second, I picture Claire doing the same in this kitchen, her hair pinned up, a few strands falling on either side of her face.

I shake away the thought, bringing myself back to the moment.

“You promised,” I tell Gemma.

She destroyed me with her actions, so I’m hoping to destroy her with two words.

I can’tbelieveher… If someone else would’ve told me that she’d ride again without me, I wouldn’t have believed them.

Her eyes soften, and she looks like she’s about to cry. It makes me regret being an ass to her, at least for a split second.

She doesn’t say a word. She looks sad, but not sorry.

So fuck it.

I wheel back to my room, and I slam the door.

My anger is at an all-time high, and it’s consuming every cell in my body. I try to breathe it out, to calm the nerves in my stomach, yet it’s not having a promising effect.

The next thing I know, Gemma barges into my room, looking as angry as I am.

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