Page 18 of Indigo

After tossing my cup in the sink, the remaining coffee spilling out and splashing on the counter beside it, I head for the hallway.

“I did, Blue,” he says, his words barely above a whisper, but they stop me in my tracks.

I turn, face him as he stands only a few steps away from me, and raise my chin in defiance, daring him to explain himself when we both know the truth.

“Fuck,” he whispers, averting his gaze to the wall behind me, and running a hand over his mouth. “I called. I tried. I was there, on your twenty-first birthday, begging your mother for your address because that's the timeline I gave myself. Twelve months. Twelve months and then I’d come for you.”

No.

“She told me you were going on a date after giving it to me. I lost my shit. Now, looking back, I should have come anyway. Should have at least tried. Instead, I drank myself into a hole and wallowed in it for an entire month. Picturing you with him, imagining how happy you were without me. I was a selfish little fuck, I know that. And then I messaged you. Tried to call you.”

I hate the feeling of the tears welling in my eyes, so I rub at them furiously.

He lets out a humourless laugh and shakes his head, his shoulder sagging in defeat. “When I realised you’d blocked my number, or changed yours, I was pissed. So pissed. But then, once I’d sobered up, I thought about it. What the fuck did I have to offer you? I was stilljusta mechanic, living in the same town you wanted to escape from. It made sense. You’d moved on. You were happy. So eventually, I stopped trying, buried your address in the bottom of my filing cabinet even though I knew that shit by heart at that point. If I’d known you weren’t okay, I would have been here. I would have helped, listened. Fuck, whatever you wanted, whatever you needed.”

I shake my head, a tear slipping down my cheek. “What the hell are you talking about? I never blocked your number.” His brows furrow, but I don’t let him respond. “I called you so many times during that first year. Over and over I got your voicemail. Every message went unanswered. I would never have done that to you. I never would have wanted you to feel the way you made me feel.”

“It doesn’t matter now,” he replies, stepping forward and reaching out his hand.

“No.” I shake my head and turn away from him, stomping down the hallway to my bedroom.

I hear him follow, his footsteps bouncing off the walls as I grab my purse from my bed and rummage through the contents.

When I find my phone, I pull it out and furiously scroll through my contacts until I find his number.

My heart sinks as I look down at his information.

Unblock this caller.

What?

“Michael must have…” I whisper, my hand shaking as I hold the phone closer to my face, making sure I’m reading the words in front of me correctly.

I feel the warmth of Pax’s chest against my back, and I raise a shaky hand to my lips.

His breath hits my ear as he whispers, “I’m so fucking sorry. I missed you so much it made me ache, Blue. You have to believe that. I just… I just fucked up.”

I sniff, and feel all the fight leave my body, exhaustion taking its place. Today has been so fucking long. I’m emotionally spent. Tired. Sad. Confused.

“I need to take a shower,” I mumble, dropping my phone on the bed.

That’s what I need. To wash this day off my skin.

“Okay,” he replies, and I listen closely as he walks away from me.

“Will you still be here when I get out?” I ask, turning my head so that I can see his back from the corner of my eye.

I don’t know which answer I’m hoping for as I ask, but I still hold my breath, waiting for his response.

“Not going anywhere,” he says before disappearing from sight.

-6-

INDIGO

AFTER LETTING THEhot water heat my body to the point of almost scalding, I climb out, grab one of the two clean towels sitting on my vanity and dry myself off. I wrap one around my body and the other my hair, before wiping the condensation off the mirror, and staring back at myself in the reflection.

Everything I thought I knew about the past four years feels like a lie.

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