Set Me Free Page 7

  “But I hate myself.”

  “For what? It’s not like that was the first time you fucked a woman, right?”

  He grabbed my shoulders so hard it hurt. “That’s the problem, Stella. I didn’t mean to . . . just fuck you. Yes, I wanted that, a lot. But I didn’t mean it to be like that.”

  Tears pulled into my eyes. “Why don’t you take your apologies and go to hell, Mr. Collins?”

  He released me and took a step back. “You are right, hell is the very place where I belong.”

  And then, he turned around and left without saying another word.

  I cried.

  I don’t think I had ever cried so hard over a man. Something happened the moment I met James Collins. Something changed in me. I didn’t hate him, I didn’t love him either, but I couldn’t imagine him leaving . . . I couldn’t imagine letting him go. All of a sudden, it felt like ripping my heart out of my chest and throwing it away.

  James made me look at my life from a different point of view. He made me remember my dreams and the things I gave up on when I left New York. But more than anything, he made me feel wanted again. And that was probably the very reason for my sudden inability to say good-bye to him. Whatever consequences I would need to deal with later, I wanted to spend more time with James, I needed to feel wanted, regardless of how little he could offer me; however, I didn’t expect James to stay. I was sure he would leave before the sun could rise in the morning, disappearing like a thief in the night. But as it turned out, I was wrong. He stayed . . . Well, that’s a shock.

  Chapter 7

  James

  Christ, I am such an asshole…

  I had been pacing my room in Dillon’s house … and Stella’s, I reminded myself … for about an hour already, trying to understand what the hell was going on with me. My thoughts were a hopeless mess, I couldn’t concentrate. I couldn’t even make myself stop thinking about Stella, but most of all, I couldn’t stop thinking about our cooking/fucking session.

  I couldn’t believe I let myself make such a huge mistake… And with her, of all people.

  Ten years, ten damn years of self-control and no-feelings, no-love, and no-relationships – all for nothing! I don’t think I had ever been so angry at myself. I swore I would never let a woman into my world again. I didn’t deserve to be with a woman again. I was a cruel hypocrite, who didn't care about anything or anyone other than himself. I broke everything I touched; I couldn’t let myself fall in love again, because it would only end with the death of yet another person I allowed myself to get close to...

  I shook my head, frustrated. The memories of the events that happened ten years ago filled my mind, but I was so not ready to think about the worst day of my life right now. Yes, it was the reason for everything that happened to me later, and it was the reason for whatever was going on with me now, but I still refused to let those sad thoughts overwhelm me again.

  It was all Stella’s fault. She awoke something in me, the something that I thought was broken and buried forever ago – my heart. I was a heartless bastard, and I liked it that way. I was okay with that. Because it was safe… It meant peace, which was the only thing I could never find with another person.

  I lied to Stella, there was a woman I used to love. I was madly in love with her, and that was what had killed her… And since that day, I swore I would never fall in love with anyone again. I didn’t want to be a murderer anymore.

  And then, I met Stella. She changed it all. She broke into my life like an oncoming hurricane: a mixture of beauty, sexiness, and unbelievably strong will power. I had never met anyone like her. She was honest, smart, and perky as hell, which only made me want her even more. She was like a sorceress that I was dying to be bewitched and seduced by.

  But sex with her was a huge mistake . . .

  At first, I thought if I just slept with her and got it over with, that would help me get her out of my system. I didn’t want anything but physical satisfaction and relief, but I didn’t feel any of that. On the contrary – now I wanted her even more than I did before I fucked her. It was wrong in so many ways. I wasn’t being honest with her. I lied about everything, to her and to myself. I tried to make myself believe that I was not attracted to her, but the truth was that I drowned and melted in her like a piece of ice in the hot water. I didn’t belong to myself anymore. But the worst part was that I hurt her. I knew I did. She said she didn’t hate me, but I knew better. She didn’t deserve to be treated like that, she deserved so much better than me. And that’s why I needed to leave.

  I opened my suitcase and started throwing my belongings inside, hoping I would be able to get out of that damn town by the morning. I couldn’t stand the thought of facing Stella again. Because I knew that if I were to see her even one more time, I would be even more screwed than I already was. For her sake, I needed to run away, as soon and as far away as humanly possible.

  Someone knocked at the door.

  “James, may I come in?”

  Oh, Stella . . . you shouldn’t have come . . . you shouldn’t . . . be here . . .

  I didn’t move, hoping she would think I was sleeping and leave.

  “Open the damn door, or I will with the spare key.”

  I sighed. There was no way to avoid this.

  “I thought you didn’t want to see me again,” I said, opening the door.

  “Are you leaving?” She asked, ignoring my question. She looked at the suitcase on my bed and then at me again. “Why?”

  “I can’t stay. I shouldn’t have stayed, but I did, and now I need to leave.”

  “You are running away, aren’t you?”

  I swallowed. She knows . . . She knew so little about me, but it felt like she knew everything about me. And it wasn’t just about the fact that she was a professional journalist and could make even a dead man speak, it was just about her and her ability to see it through me. It was another thing that I lied about – she was really good at reading people, now I knew it for sure.

  “I don’t know what to say . . .”

  “Stay,” she said, looking into my eyes.

  I stared back at her, trying to figure out whether I had heard her correctly or not.

  “Why?” I asked.

  “Because I want you to stay . . .” She took a step closer, and my heart stopped beating, as if it were a scared animal, looking right into its own dead eyes.

  Stella, please don’t do this, I thought to myself. Don’t make me stay . . . you don't even know what will happen to you if I do.

  “I don’t care how little you can give me. I just want you to stay,” she said, taking another step closer.

  “What I can offer you is nothing.”

  “For me, that is enough. . .” She ran one palm up my chest and then wrapped her hand around my neck, bringing my face closer to hers. “Give me as much as you can, and I will give you as much as I can.”

  I looked down at her and felt like something was breaking inside me; I wondered if it was my heart that I could have never imagined breaking again.

  “I come and leave whenever I want,” I said, trying to come up with at least one good reason to make her believe that she should stay away from me. Unfortunately, I was not very good at that. Probably because staying with her was all I wanted at the moment.

  “You will leave when you feel like leaving,” she said, wrapping another hand around my neck. “I promise, I won’t try to stop you.”

  “But you will never forgive me for leaving you, Stella. Because no sane man would ever willingly leave a woman like you.”

  “You are a writer, and writers are anything but sane,” she said, smiling slightly. She wanted it to sound like a joke, but I knew she was not kidding. I also knew she didn’t believe her own words.

  “I don’t want to hurt you . . .”

  “You won’t. At least I don’t think you are capable of hurting me more than I have already been in my life.”

  I shook my head, still trying to resist the silent invi
tation that I could read between the lines of her words.

  “I will break you. And then, I will leave. And you will hate me, Stella. I know you will.”

  “I don’t care. This is my choice, James. And I choose you.”

  The rest of my arguments died the moment I heard those words. My defense shattered and I just . . . let it go. For the first time in years, I just let it go.

  I pulled her into my embrace and covered her lips with mine, drinking in every second of her sweet lips moving over mine. Uh, the woman obviously knew how to push my buttons. Even thinking about her, made me hard in all the right places, and if I used to think that my life couldn’t get any more screwed, this was a million times worse. I had no idea what I was getting myself into . . . and I no longer cared.

  I broke the kiss and said, “If Dillon finds out about us making out and occasionally having sex, he’ll kill me.”

  “Then we need to be really quiet.” Stella giggled, licking her lips.

  “Who would have thought you were so naughty, Miss Holt.”

  “You can't tell me you don’t like naughty.”

  “Oh, I love it. And I bet you have had enough time with me to figure that out.”

  “Indeed.”

  I smiled, caressing her cheek with one palm. “So what are we going to do now?”

  She responded with another question, “What would you like to do?”

  “Many things actually, but I doubt any of them can be done quietly.”

  “Which means it is time to say good-night . . .” She looked up at me, and I guess we both knew that no ‘good-night’ would happen tonight.

  “Do you think you could stay with me?” I asked.

  She smirked. “Are you sure you can bear that?”

  “Well, I can give it a try at the very least.”

  She smiled, placed a soft kiss on my lips and went to my bed. God, was I really going to spend a whole night with a woman I liked, in one bed, with no sex involved? Yeah, something must have been so fucking wrong with me.

  “Can I ask you something?” Stella said.

  She was lying facing me, with my arm wrapped around her waist. I didn’t dare to pull her too close to myself; for the obvious hard-on reasons it would only make the night harder to live through.

  “Another question for your article about me?”

  “No, just a random question.”

  “Go ahead.”

  She hesitated for a moment. “What do you like most about women?”

  “Whoa . . . That’s a hard question.” I thought for a moment. “I have never thought about it much. I just. . .”

  “Sleep with them, I know. But still?”

  “Well, I think I just like fucking with them.”

  She laughed. “I’m being serious.”

  “So am I . . .”

  “Okay, another question then. How much does outer beauty mean to you?”

  It was my turn to laugh. “Considering that I mostly pay attention to the outer beauty when I am with a woman, a lot.”

  Stella rolled her eyes, and then rolled onto her back. “You are hopeless, James Collins. You are not even close to being prince charming. Though I guess, I shouldn’t be surprised about that. After all, all your characters are just sex-obsessed bastards, and authors always write their characters based on their own personality, right?”

  “Mostly, yes.”

  “So there are also exceptions to that rule?”

  “Well, of course. We can’t make all the characters look and act the same way in all of our books. That’s why sometimes we copy other people as well.”

  “How true are your stories, James?”

  “You mean how close they are to what is actually going on in my own life?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, some are very real, others are not.”

  “And what about sex?”

  “All of the sex is real.” I hated to admit it, but it was true.

  Stella was right when she said I made sex the point of everything in my books. I just didn’t know how to write about it the other way around. I made it a point of my own life as well, and I guess I forgot there were other things that people usually shared with each other apart from sex.

  “Your stories don’t have happy endings, but women still love reading them. Why?”

  “I guess you should ask one of my readers about that.”

  “I am one of your readers too, I read your books, remember? But I still don’t get it.”

  “Well, I think my stories are popular mostly because of my male characters. They are the kind of men women want to be with, secretly or not. They are bastards, but regardless of how little they care about feelings and romance, they know how to make women feel wanted. And I think every woman wants that. That is true, is it not?”

  “You are right, it is true… But, I don’t think it is just women who want to feel wanted; I think men want that too.” She looked at me, eyes full of thoughts that I wish I could read. There was something in them that I couldn’t let go: a mystery that only one of us knew, and that person was not me, obviously.

  “I think we need to get some sleep. Good-night, James.”

  “Sweet dreams, Stella.”

  I kissed her lips once, and then she turned away from me, hugging a pillow close to her chest. I wish I could be that pillow, but right then and there, I thought it would be better to stay the way we were for now. I still didn’t know what I was doing in Braiwood, or maybe I simply didn’t want to know the answer to that question.

  That night it took me forever to fall asleep, and when finally I did, I had a dream.

  The sun was shining brightly in the sky. I was walking down the street, holding a bouquet of pale pink roses . . . Melody’s favorite flowers.

  My sweet Melody, I love you so much. Whenever I think about her, my heart fills with so much tenderness; I don’t think I have ever been happier with anyone else. And I’m sure I will never love anyone more than I love you.

  I smiled to myself. I could have never imagined falling for a girl so hard. Melody was special. Everything about her was special. Starting from her amazing, deep dark-blue eyes that I could stare at for hours, to the beautiful pictures that she loved painting so much. There was so much passion in every piece she made. No wonder she hated me interrupting her whenever she was working. She gave her entire being to everything she did, whether it was painting or making love to me.

  But there was a completely different side to her as well: the side that I didn’t know existed until a few days ago, when Melody said that we could no longer be together. I couldn’t believe it. I refused to believe it. I thought it was some kind of a joke. But then… Everything suddenly changed. She ignored my calls, she avoided seeing me, she even asked her brother to start guarding her, and he wouldn’t let me anywhere near her.

  I didn’t understand what was going on. I was lost and broken, and downright devastated. I couldn’t imagine my life without Melody. I couldn’t even imagine seeing her while knowing that she didn’t belong to me anymore.

  Then one day, I decided to try my luck again. I waited for Melody’s brother to leave her workshop and went to see her. But she wasn’t happy to see me.

  “What are you doing here, James? I thought I told you to stay away from me.” She was angry. She was shaking, and I wondered if it was from anger or if it was because she still loved me, but for some sick reason didn’t want me in her life anymore.

  “I miss you, Mel,” I said, slowly walking toward where she was standing.

  She stepped back. “Go away!”

  “But why? What did I do to deserve your hatred?”

  Tears glistened in her eyes. “Please, James … Just go away. Trust me, it’s for the best. You need to let me go. Just let me go . . .”

  “I can’t do that. You know I can’t . . .” I swallowed my tears, trying to look as calm as possible, when in reality I felt like my heart was breaking into a million small pieces right in front of her.

&n
bsp; “Leave! Now!” She cried harder.

  I felt so helpless at the moment. I didn’t know what to do. I needed to do something, anything. I couldn’t let her go just like that.

  She took her cellphone from the coffee table and called her brother, saying, “Get back here, I need you!”

  There was no point in waiting for him to come and throw me out of the workshop. So I left before he returned. But the next time I came to see Melody, she was no longer waiting for me. . .

  I came to the door of her workshop and knocked, but no one answered. I knocked again, and again, but no response followed. I pushed the door and it opened inward. I let myself in, feeling my heart beating wildly in my chest. I knew that something was wrong there . . . But I could have never imagined whatever I saw next.

  Melody was sitting in a rocking chair, right in front of my portrait that she once painted for me. It was all torn and ruined, but the worst part was that she was not moving. Her head was leaning against the back of the chair, her eyes were closed, a pool of deep-red blood was on the floor, with the bright drops still dripping from Melody’s wrist.

  The roses fell from my hands, right into the bloody sea. I dropped to my knees, unable to keep my balance. No sound came from my lips. I was speechless. I was shocked and I couldn’t believe my eyes, blinded by the tears that I could feel running down my cheeks.

  Melody was gone . . .

  I woke up, with my heart racing in my chest, a few drops of sweat rolled down my forehead. I swept them away and looked at Stella, sleeping peacefully by my side. I swallowed hard, running both hands through my hair.

  A nightmare again.

  I hadn’t seen that terrible moment in my life for a long time; I thought I would never see it again. God, it was real, so damn real, I felt like I was back in that day when I found Melody’s motionless body. It was my fault she was gone now. It was entirely my fault . . .

  I leaned back against the pillow and closed my eyes, trying to not think about the nightmare I had just seen. I couldn’t let it bring me down again, not now, not ever.

  ***

  The next morning started with a phone call from my agent. Rick was my best friend among other things, and yes, he was more than surprised to know that I didn’t get back to New York right after my book signing was over.