Unspoken Promises Page 23

  Her lips are now pinched. “It was a lingerie shoot.”

  I’ll admit at first I’m irritated from her answer, but I have to remember what her career entails and I push the resentment aside. “Did you get to bring any of it home?”

  She looks surprised from my response. “No, I wouldn’t have wanted to bring them home even if they offered,” she answers before adding, “I’d much rather wear something you chose instead.” Her answer makes me smile.

  Kissing her, I roll onto my back, pulling her with me as I run my hand up and down her back to soothe her to sleep. Her breathing slows, telling me I’ve accomplished my goal. Instead of joining her, I lay there remembering our short conversation, realizing that although I know the details of Abigail’s career, I’m still not mentally prepared to accept certain aspects of it. Knowing my girlfriend is once again going to be half-naked for the world to see isn’t what I had in mind when I encouraged her to start working again, but I know deep down in my heart it’s what I’ll have to accept to keep her at my side.

  “HOW MUCH LONGER is he going to take?” I impatiently whine. Standing at my side, I hear Matt laugh. “Patience, beautiful.”

  “I wouldn’t require patience if he’d be on time,” I mention. “We’ve been waiting in this room for over an hour,” I continue, knowing I sound like an impatient child, but I’m frustrated at this point.

  The only reason I’m still waiting is because I need to know whether or not I have to endure wearing this hideous boot any longer, if not I would have left long ago. As if sensing I need comforting, Matt places a kiss on my lips, but I pull him closer to tease him. “There is something else I would’ve rather been doing for the past hour,” I speak against his lips, causing him to moan into my mouth.

  In return he trails his finger inside my thigh, tantalizing its way up to my center. I’m now moaning as I push myself up against his hand. “Be good, or else you won’t find out your results because you won’t be here to get them,” he seductively growls into my lips. His hand is now rubbing against the center of my jeans, causing me to grow wet from both his touch and the thoughts of what he can be doing with his hand if it wasn’t for the barrier of the material.

  “And where exactly would I be?” I curiously ask before biting into his bottom lip. We’re both heavily breathing as he tightens the grip of his hand. I sense him about to answer when the door opens, causing him to pull away.

  I know I’m blushing as the doctor begins to speak. “Ms. Adams. Glad to see you again,” he announces with a friendly nod as he walks straight to the computer against the wall and starts typing away at it. With an embarrassed smile now on my face, I’m about to answer when Matt whispers into my ear, “You’ll have to wait now until we get home.”

  The reminder of his words agitates me as my body shivers from his warm breath against my ear. The doctor turns to face me with a smile on his face. “Looks like the boot gets to come off today. You did a really good job of following instructions and keeping off your ankle,” he says with a proud smile. “Not many patients follow my advice.”

  “I believe I had a lot to do with making sure she stayed off it,” Matt cheerfully admits as he coyly smiles back at me with a twinkle in his eyes.

  I’m blushing once again. “That’s good. I appreciate your help,” the doctor says with a smile over to Matt, oblivious to the true meaning behind his words. “This doesn’t mean you’re completely healed, though. You still have quite a bit to go before you’re back to normal. You’ll need to continue being on light duty and require physical therapy as I had mentioned,” he sternly lectures.

  My heart stops from his words and the dread is already building inside of me. “When will I be able to run again?”

  His expression is somber “I’m sorry. It won’t be for a while,” he regretfully says.

  “But now that the boot is off why can’t I start running again? What about Boston?” I fearfully ask, dreading his answer.

  As if expecting me to argue, he’s already explaining, “Although we’re removing the boot today, your ankle still needs time to properly heal or else you’re going to cause permanent damage to it. I know you’d planned on running Boston this year, but I don’t think it’s going to be possible.”

  I blink away the tears that are threatening to fall as I take in his words, refusing to allow my weakness to emerge. The time I spent forced to follow orders feels as if it was for nothing, the entire time I obediently followed Matt’s orders to rest and not be as mobile on my ankle feeling wasted. I believed I would be able to start training again once I’d been given the clearance to retire the boot. Aggravated, I feel as if I’ve failed myself. I simply sit there staring off into the distance, wishing my outcome were different.

  It isn’t long before both Matt and I are walking out of the exam room. The excitement I’d expected to be feeling from no longer having the weight of the boot to slow me down is absent. Instead it’s replaced with disappointment of imagining the length of time I have to continue to wait until I can fully run again. It’s as if my heart has shattered all over again.

  When we’re back in Matt’s car he reaches over for my hand, entwining our fingers. “It’s not as bad as you think, beautiful. This is just a minor setback,” he reassures me.

  I look over at him, wishing I were convinced by his words as I miserably sit next to him. After starting the car, Matt takes my hand to entwine our fingers to place a kiss on the back of my hand before driving off. I continue sitting in silence the entire car ride home, pondering my thoughts. I may not be able to run Boston this year, but I do make a promise to myself which I intend to keep. Boston may not be mine this year, but I am going to run it someday.

  IT’S BEEN ALMOST a month since I’ve had the boot removed, and in that month I’ve discovered something new about myself—I have no patience. At least not the patience I need to take things slow. An entire hour of hearing someone tell me to take my time and to slow down grows irritating after a while. Having physical therapy two times a week was testing my sanity. I’ve come to the conclusion it’s the reason why I quickly fell in love with running. If I wanted to get to the finish line faster I simply had to increase my speed, not slow down. I was in control of the speed that got me there.

  At least I managed to make it through one more appointment, which means I am one day closer to my own finish line. With a smile on my face, I recall the physical therapist’s complement on my progress and allowing me the clearance to do runway shows again, giving me hope that’d I’d be running soon.

  It could not have come at a better time since I’ve already accepted a job offer from the agency to do a runway show for an upcoming designer in Los Angeles. When the recruiter had called me with the offer, I took it without hesitation. I was confident I would be able to do it. My dilemma now was breaking the news to Matt. He’s been persistent about not putting too much weight on my ankle until the physical therapist gave me the clearance. He made me feel like a child who was still wearing the boot. His only explanation for his persistence was that he wanted me to recover without any further injuries. At least he was on my side about me getting back to running soon, but he was beginning to make me feel resentful towards him.

  With Julio at my side, I walk out of the medical building and climb into my car to head home with a huge smile on my face. Even with the silence between us in the car, it gives me time to go over the words I plan on telling Matt about the trip. With the smile on my face and Julio in tow, I walk into the house to find a scowling Matt. He’s staring down at the papers in his hand, just before he tosses them across the floor and they land in a scattered mess.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask, looking down at them confused out of my mind.

  The anger is radiating off of him as he looks over to Julio. “She doesn’t go anywhere without you. At all! Do you understand?” he demands. Julio looks confused as he nods, answering, “Of course.”

  “Matt, you already know I don’t go anywhere without him,”
I remind him. “Tell me what’s going on?” Now I’m worried from his words.

  “The temporary restraining order against Bill expired last week. You never went to court to get the permanent one placed.”

  Closing my eyes, I curse myself. “I’m sorry, I forgot I was supposed to go to court.”

  “How can you forget about something that important, Abigail?” he declares, pointing to the scattered papers spread across the floor.

  Looking down at them, the guilt is already rising inside of me. “So much has been going on lately that it totally slipped my mind. How can you blame me? It’s not like my life has been sugar coated the last couple of months,” I throw at him.

  Ignoring my words, he starts rubbing at his temple. “It doesn’t matter anyway. You don’t have anything going on besides your appointments, so you should be fine until we can file another claim.”

  My earlier excitement has vanished. “Actually, I’m going to L.A. this weekend,” I inform him in a way I hadn’t planned on telling him.

  Whipping his head up to look at me, he looks angry again. “What for?” he demands.

  “For a runway show.”

  “Why don’t I know about this?” he asks, looking confused.

  “I’m telling you now.”

  Crap. With the enraged expression he’s giving me, I’m pretty sure he’s figured out I’ve been keeping it from him. “I didn’t want to get my hopes up in case I couldn’t get the clearance from my physical therapist,” I further explain, still not sharing the full details of when I took the job.

  Expressionless, he stares at me as he continues to remain silent. “Matt, I’m tired of sitting around and doing nothing. I like modeling and I’m going to continue doing it. You can’t blame me for taking the opportunity,” I state, unwilling to cave on my decision.

  Closing the distance between us, he now looks regretful. “You’re right. You should do it, but can you blame me for wanting to protect you from Bill?” he quietly asks.

  Tormented by his words, I push the doubt of my decision aside. “I can’t keep living my life in fear of him, Matt,” I declare. “I’m doing the show.”

  He considers my answer for a moment. “I didn’t say you couldn’t do it, I just don’t like the idea of Bill being out there without you having a restraining order against him,” he explains. “When is the show?”

  “This weekend.”

  “And you felt the need to keep it from me?” he asks, his eyebrow curiously raised high.

  He’s testing me. “I don’t want to argue about this, Matt,” I reply without any further explanation.

  “I guess where going to L.A. this weekend,” he informs Julio before adding, “I want to talk to you outside,” as he looks back to me. “I really do hope you’re not lying to me Abigail,” his words stabbing at my conscience.

  With my heart now lodged in the pit of my stomach, I watch both Julio and Matt walk out the front door. I can sense from Matt’s last words that he knows I’ve lied to him, which makes me feel guiltier for not telling him the entire truth.

  When I see the door close behind Julio, I start to gather the scattered papers from the floor to try to better understand them, but fail miserably.

  I’m left standing in the living room alone with a set of papers that mean nothing to me, but enough for me to understand Bill still has enough power to control my life, regardless of how much I tell myself otherwise. I may have escaped him more than once, but he’s still managing to make me live in fear of him.

  REACHING JULIO’S CAR, I take a quick glance back at the front door, making sure Abigail hasn’t followed us. “How good are you with a gun?” I get straight to the point and ask Julio.

  He snorts before answering. “Now you’re asking me stupid questions,” he curtly replies. “Why are you asking?”

  “You and I both know even if Abigail were to reapply for a restraining order, a fucking paper is not going to keep Bill away from her. I need to know she’s safe,” I state, looking back at the house.

  “I don’t like the idea of her being around a gun, but if it’s what it takes to know she’ll be safe, then so be it. I know you probably kept up to date with your gun license,” I tell him, earning me a nod. “Which means you’re going to start carrying a gun again for her protection. I’ll pay for whatever you need,” I inform him.

  “I agree.”

  “Good. Let me know how much you’ll need and I’ll get it to you.” He opens his car door as I add, “And I need you to have it on you when we go to L.A. this weekend.”

  “Of course,” he answers as he gets into his car.

  Turning to make my way back into the house, I don’t find Abigail in the living room. I head straight to the bedroom to find her lying on the bed with her face buried into the pillow. Her body stiffens upon hearing me enter the room, warning me I may have a battle ahead of me. Removing my shoes, I climb into bed behind her, wrapping my arm around her waist to pull her up against my chest.

  “I’m sorry, Matt. I swear I was going to tell you,” she murmurs, her words full of regret. I place a kiss on her shoulder. “I believe you,” I reply, not knowing if I truly mean the words.

  “Are you still mad at me?” she somberly asks.

  I’m silently thinking as she turns her head to kiss my lips. “No, but I just don’t understand what is going on between us anymore, Abigail.”

  She sighs deeply before turning her head to stare out the window. “I’m scared,” she states in a whisper.

  Her words worry me. I tug her body so she’s facing me, pulling her once again against my body. “What are you scared of?”

  “Of everything,” she rasps out. “I’m scared I’ll never know who I am. I’m scared I’ll never be able to run Boston. I’m scared I’ll never get my career back,” she declares, but she continues on, “I’m scared that Bill is still out there and I may have just messed up my only chance to keep him away. But most of all, I’m scared of losing you, Matt,” she says with a sniffle as I feel her wet tears against my neck.

  “Abigail, you’re going to run Boston one day. You’re a strong beautiful girl who I love very much, which is why I would never leave you,” I promise, trying to comfort her. “Bill, should be the least of your worries because I would never let him get anywhere near you.

  “As far as your career, you’ve got that under control,” I tell her, thinking back to what helped start this all. “We’re going to L.A. this weekend and you’re going to show them who Abigail Adams is and it’s going to open many more opportunities. You’ll see,” I reassure her.

  “That’s if I don’t fall flat on my face,” she teases.

  Envisioning her words, I throw my head back and laugh. “I love you. No matter what happens, I always will,” I tell her when I’m done laughing.

  Her expression turns somber, but I kiss her hoping it will distract her. I don’t know what the future holds between Abigail and I, but I’m praying it’s a future of forever.

  I’VE LIED TO Matt, again and he knows it. His angered expression staring back at me tells me I’ve pushed my limit with him. The rain is pouring down. Our bodies are drenched, our clothes completely soaked through as they mold to the shape of our bodies that are beginning to tremble from the cold. Every droplet that hits me feels like a piercing shard of glass, but it’s nothing compared to the pain inside my heart as Matt’s narrowed eyes stare down into mine, straight into my soul.

  As the rain picks up, the droplets become larger and pound harder against my skin. I’ll take the pounding over and over again, anything to not have to feel this way anymore. I don’t want to feel this pain. It’s as if he’s punishing me for every second of anguish and heartache I’ve caused him for the .

  Yes, that’s exactly what this is. This is my punishment.

  “Please, Matt, don’t do this,” I beg him, desperately pleading as I yank on his arm to keep him in place. He stays silent, the anguish spreading across his face. I never thought I’d see this day. I expect
ed him to always be there, regardless of what I did. However, it’s entirely my fault and the look in his eyes tells me he has finally given up.

  He slowly shakes his head. I can barely see his expression now because my vision is obstructed from both my tears and the rain. I want to wipe my eyes, but I don’t want to chance letting him go, because I know the minute I do he will walk away forever. It will finally come to an end.

  I yank again, trying to pull him closer to me, but he’s stronger than I am and instead he steps back as my body is pulled forward as well. I stumble to stay upright, still trying to hold on for dear life. “You wanted this, Abigail. You chose this, not me,” he growls. “How many times did I come crawling back to you, but you only pushed me away? I can’t do this anymore. I’m tired of begging.”

  “Please don’t leave me,” I shout back to him. “You promised never to give up on us,” I say as the tears continue to rapidly fall, my breathing now labored, and my desperation weakening me by the minute.

  Excitement builds within me when I see him step towards me. He brings his hand up to cup my face and I lean in, needing his warmth. When he leans down to place a kiss against my lips, my heart feels like it’s going to burst from my chest with happiness. His kiss is simple. Gentle. I can feel every ounce of love he has for me in just this one kiss, but when my eyes find his again, even through the rain, all I see is pain.

  He brings his forehead down to mine. “I will always love you, beautiful, don’t you ever forget that,” he whispers loudly enough for me to hear before he places one last kiss against my temple and turns to walk away. My efforts to pull him back have failed completely. Somehow I’ve managed to let him go as I watch him walk away from me without a backwards glance.

  I try to run to him, but my body is rooted in place, frozen and unable to move. I’m desperately shouting at him to come back, but my words are muted, silently coming out. My heart is shattering inside of me, the pain slowly ripping me apart inch by inch. I no longer have strength as my knees give out and my body comes crashing to the floor. When I lift my head up to look for him again, he’s gone, as if he was never there.