Page 11 of F*ckboys

And you can forget calling the cops. I've watched enough episodes of true crime shows to know how that tends to work out. Me too my ass.

I guess this is just destiny for someone like me. I wasn't good enough for Aksel, so I found people more on my level. And look where it got me. Look where he got me.

I'm worthless. He broke me, and now so did they.

"Fuck them all," I snarl, slamming my fist against the cool glass windowpane causing it to rattle and reverberate violently in its frame. While I did end up telling my parents who in turn called the cops, the justice system failed me, those vile monsters walking away without so much as a slap on the wrist. To this day, I can't shake the feeling that it's Aksel who is the root cause of my trauma, and I resent him deeply for it.

If he'd been faithful and trusting of me, and if he'd truly loved me, life would have turned out much closer to how I'd planned it. How we'd planned it together. But now his life is set and wrapped up in a pretty little bow, whereas I'm struggling and beholden to my family. Sure, I'm not struggling day-to-day, but it would take me refusing one task from my father for everything to be taken away in a flash.

My phone buzzes on the desk, its vibrations cutting through the haze of my thoughts. I glance at the screen, my heart catching in my throat as I see Aksel's name again. It feels like some cruel joke, his message arriving just as I relive my darkest moments. With trembling hands, I pick up the phone, forcing myself to read his words.

Aksel: Fallon, please stop ignoring me. I know things between us aren't easy, but I want to understand. I want to help us both move forward. Please just agree to speak with me. That's all I ask.

"Move forward?" I scoff, my grip on the phone tightening. The audacity of him, thinking he can just waltz back into my life and mend what's been shattered beyond repair. But beneath the anger, if I'm honest there's a flicker of something else—a raw, unbidden longing for the connection we once shared. I don't know why I still crave his very being like this. It's something primal and it disgusts me. Maybe I'm just a sucker for punishment. Trauma bonded to the person who first betrayed me.

"Fallon," I whisper to myself, "don't let him in." The walls I've built around my heart are fragile, and if I allow Aksel any closer, they'll crumble to dust and my heart will be completely vulnerable. I've developed a strong shell around myself, but that's because the heart that lies underneath has been shattered and barely holds together anymore. Yet, as much as I try to deny it, the pull towards him is undeniable.

I relent, typing out a terse response.

Me: Fine. We can talk. But don't expect me to bare my soul to you, Aksel. That part of me died a long time ago, back in high school. Just like your frosted tips.

As I send the message, my stomach churns with a mix of anticipation and dread. I know that by letting Aksel back into my life, I risk giving him the power to break me all over again. It caused me enough angst to have to be in the same room with him at last night's event. And yet, despite the turmoil raging within me, I can't help but hope that this time, things will be different.

I get an immediate reply:

Aksel: Okay. You name the time and place that works best for you.

I put my phone down. My brain is too scattered to come up with a concrete plan to meet with him. Maybe if I don't reply immediately he'll be distracted by something or someone else. Although, from his persistence, I know that's just wishful thinking on my part.

My thoughts drift towards my family, and the strings that tie me to them like marionette wires. I can't escape the pressure that comes from being Colton Dempsey's daughter, a trophy he parades around at corporate events. The weight of expectation is a constant shadow, darkening my life. I thought by forging my own path with this business I'd be able to escape some of the family expectations, but if anything it's only served to put me under further scrutiny in a futile competition with my brothers that I could never win.

"Fallon," my father's voice rings in my ears, "remember who you are and what you represent." His words feel like chains, binding me to his ambitions and desires. I never asked for this life, but with the financial support he provides for my business, I feel shackled by obligation. I purposely avoided joining his firmbut I may as well wear its logo on me permanently. Besides, everyone knows I'm a Dempsey. There's no escaping this.

"Damn it," I mutter under my breath, frustration simmering beneath the surface. Clenching my fists, I force myself to focus on Aksel, trying to make sense of our most recent interaction. It's not just me battling demons, there's something haunting him too. I saw it in his eyes, the way they darkened with unspoken pain when he thought no one was looking. I wonder what's happened to him in the years since we were last in contact, and why his energy seems heavier somehow, despite him living the good life with a silver spoon in his mouth.

"Hey, Fallon?" Mia's voice breaks through my reverie. "You okay?" I hadn't even noticed her slip back into my office while I was deep in thought about the two men who have left indelible impressions on nearly every aspect of my life.

"Fine," I say, trying to sound casual while my heart throbs with a cacophony of emotions. "Just thinking."

"About?" She presses, concern etched on her face. "You still worried about Aksel?"

"No, not everything is about Aksel," I hiss. I instantly realize I'm being snippy with her when she's just being a concerned friend. She tends to bear the brunt of my emotions and I should really stop taking things out on her. "Family," I admit, the word leaving a bitter taste in my mouth.

"Ah, your father," she says, understanding dawning in her eyes. "He's…complicated." Having grown up spending countless hours at each other's houses, she has more insight into him than most people. Not that he was home very often, always on business trips and no doubt shacking up with Zara the homewrecker and who knows who else. But she got to see a side to him that most people don't. His version of a family man, and his impossible expectations of his one and only daughter.

"Complicated? More like controlling and oppressive." My laughter is hollow, devoid of any humor. "He's got me trapped, Mia. I'm drowning here."

"Fallon, don't let him define you. You're stronger than that," she encourages, reaching out to squeeze my hand.

"Am I?" I question, doubts swirling like storm clouds in my mind. "Sometimes it feels like I'm just a pawn in his game, and my only purpose is to serve him and the family name[."

"Hey," she says firmly, "you're so much more than that. You've built your own life, your own business. Don't let him take that away from you. And I do really think he loves you deeply, but he has a hard time knowing how to show it."

"Thanks, Mia," I murmur, grateful for her unwavering support and unique insight. But as I stare at the walls of my office, I can't help but wonder if I'll ever truly be free. She gives my shoulder a squeeze and heads back out the door.

Aksel's past seems to haunt him too, I remind myself, the thought simultaneously comforting and painful. It's a strange comfort knowing he seems to be fighting his own battles too, even though privilege seems to be oozing from his every pore, but it also highlights the distance between us.

"Maybe," I whisper to the empty room, "we're both just broken beyond repair." And as I sit alone, the pieces of my shattered heart scattered around me, I can't help but wonder if Aksel and I will ever find a way to mend what's been irreparably torn apart, or if I'll ever feel like a whole person again.

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