Page 22 of Kai
"I hate that you're right," she whispered, her head falling back against the couch. "I hate that he still has this hold on me."
"It's okay to feel that way," Yvette said softly. "It's okay to be confused, to not have all the answers tonight. Just promise me one thing."
She turned her head to look at her friend, eyebrows raised in question.
"Whatever you decide, whether it's Matthew or him or neither, make sure it's what you want. Not because you're trying to prove something, not because you're trying to escape something. Do it for you."
The gravity of Yvette's words settled over her like a blanket, warm but heavy. She nodded slowly, letting the truth sink in. "For me," she repeated, as if saying it aloud would make it easier to believe.
Yvette smiled, her hand giving hers a reassuring squeeze. "For you."
Silence followed, but it wasn't uncomfortable. It was the kind of quiet that allowed thoughts to simmer, unspoken but understood. Brutus stirred at her feet, letting out a contented sigh, and she envied his simplicity.
Tomorrow would come, and with it, decisions to make and emotions to face. But for now, she let herself sink into the couch, surrounded by the warmth of wine, friendship, and the bittersweet chaos of her own heart.
As the evening wore on, the room seemed to settle into its own rhythm, the ticking of the clock blending seamlessly with the occasional crackle of the candle wick. She found herself tracing the rim of her wineglass absentmindedly, her thoughts a tangled web of what-ifs and unspoken truths. Yvette, ever perceptive,leaned back into the cushions, her presence a quiet anchor in the tempest.
"Do you think," she began tentatively, her voice barely above a whisper, "that it's possible to let go without losing a part of yourself?"
Yvette tilted her head, her gaze thoughtful. "I think letting go doesn't mean erasing. It means making peace. Some things--some people--leave marks that aren't meant to fade. But maybe that's okay. Maybe those marks shape us into who we're meant to be."
Her words hung in the air, wrapping around her like an embrace. She wanted to believe that. To believe that her scars didn't define her as much as they refined her. But the notion still felt distant, like a light she could see but not quite touch.
Brutus shifted again, his large, soulful eyes peering up at her as if sensing the weight of her thoughts. She smiled faintly and reached down to scratch behind his ears. His tail thumped against the floor in response, a reminder that love--simple and unencumbered--was still within reach.
"Maybe you're right," she said at last, straightening herself on the couch. "Maybe it's not about forgetting. Maybe it's about learning to carry it differently."
Yvette's smile widened, her pride for her friend evident in her softened expression. "Exactly. And when you do, you'll find that it's not as heavy as you thought."
For the first time in what felt like ages, a flicker of hope sparked within her chest. It was small, fragile even, but it was there. And for tonight, that was enough.
But Kai was having a difficult time of it. He had sat there in his car inside the parking lot after she left, just contemplating his plight. And thinking seriously of storming her house, demanding to be heard. He had said a lot, written a goddamned letter out of sheer desperation. Bared his soul for the first time in his bloody life. It should have been enough. He wanted it to be enough.
Christ Jesus! He needed her and he had never needed anyone before. It was humiliating and humbling. He was on the verge of begging.
Shooting the scotch, he shoved to his feet and went to stand at the balcony. The breeze was stiff, but the cold had never really bothered him. A faint smile touched his lips as he recalled how much it had affected her. During the fall weather, she would be bundled up from head to toe, while he would be wearing just a thin sweater.
Christ! The taste of her was still on his tongue. He wanted more. Ached for more--her body had felt so damned right against his. He wanted her naked and desperately needed to be inside her.
He had left her and that was going to take some time for her to believe he would never hurt her like that again. She bloody well better know that, he thought huffily. He had been a damn child when his world turned upside down. And how the hell was he supposed to know that after ten years, he would still feel this way? How could he have predicted that seeing her again would churn up something inside him that refused to die?
Suddenly, it was as if a light bulb had gone off inside his head. A fleeting grin lit his face, and the dull, heavy ache of unhappiness suddenly lifted as if the sun had burst forth and got rid of the cloud. He was going to be in her face. He had promised to give her time, but to hell with that. He needed her and if that was unfair after what he had done, so be it. He was through taking a step back.
Predictably, she was cursed with the consequences of her drinking binge last night. Yvette had been persuaded to spend the night while she wallowed and had left early this morning for a photo shoot.
Everything was too bright and too vivid. Even the violet rose-colored drapes at her windows burned her corneas. She felt as if someone was viciously driving spikes through her brain. Damn him! she thought bitterly. She started to rise from the bed, but the sudden movement sent pain shimmering through her brain and had her clamping her hands over her head, to see if it was still attached to her neck.
She was never drinking again, she swore silently.
Waiting until the nausea and pain had passed, she tentatively put one foot and then the other on the quilted mat at the side of the bed and stood with one hand braced on the sturdy post.
Taking a deep breath, she headed for the bathroom and made it just in time to empty her stomach inside the bowl. Pressing her hand against her breast, she sat on the tiled floor and leaned against the wall, closing her eyes. Her mouth felt like she had eaten a bag of sawdust, and her stomach was raw. She was sureit was also bleeding and that she was at her last. She was dying. And it was all because of him. If she lived to see another hour--she was going to find a way to murder Kai Tanaka. She had never learned to use a gun, but for this, she would gladly learn.
"Oh God," she whispered. "Please help me."
Feeling steadier, she eased herself up--placing her hand on the bowl and rose slowly. "Coffee or tea," she muttered. If she did not have some client meetings this morning and stocktaking, she would simply crawl back under the covers and die peacefully.
But she did not have that luxury.
