End of Eternity 4 Page 4

  “I will, dear. But you should try calling more often to say that yourself,” he says gently. “Rest well.”

  I jab my thumb against the end button and slam the receiver down onto the wall charger. The urge to scream is powerful, but the last thing I need is some neighbor to call the police.

  As I look around my apartment, my senses are overwhelmed with constant reminders of my life with Owen. A pile of his bills are sitting on the table, and one of his tacky sweaters rests on the back of a chair. It’s like he never left. I can’t even really believe that he’s gone. He hasn’t been home for days, since he randomly texted me that bizarre breakup message. I haven’t had the heart to move anything around or throw out his belongings.

  A part of me is holding onto to the idea that he still wants to be with me.

  Maybe this is just a phase. Like a mini mid-life crisis. A quarter-life crisis. Is that a thing?

  Is Owen just going crazy and letting off some steam? Will he be home soon?

  Please. Please let it be some misunderstanding or mistake.

  I just want him to come home.

  The pounding in my head won’t stop. I find myself stumbling toward my bed, craving the respite of just lying down and resting my eyes. Maybe then I can try to forget. Maybe I can sleep for a few days, until this all blows over, and I will wake up to find that things are okay again. I will wake up to find Owen here, holding me and saying tender words. I smile at this thought as I lazily begin to strip all of my clothing. I feel like my tight jeans are cutting off my circulation and strangling my hips, and I just want to be comfortable. I just need to sleep.

  The pillows on the bed gently cradle my head, providing some relief to my headache, but not nearly enough. I can still hear my heartbeat throbbing in my ears. I try to take deep breaths in order to relax, but nothing is working. I turn over onto my side and sprawl my legs out against the soft sheets. This is normally one of my favorite positions to sleep in, but right now it feels alien and uncomfortable.

  It’s been like this for days. Ever since that text message. I’ve always had issues with insomnia, but I have been trying to reduce my stress levels and do stupid, monotonous tasks like knitting so that I could regularly fall asleep without the aid of sleeping pills. Unfortunately, it seems that is out of the question right now.

  I can’t bear the thought of tossing and turning for hours with this skull-splitting headache, so I reach over to the bedside table and grab at the bottle of my prescription pills. I shake two out onto my hand and reach for a half-filled glass of water from the night before. I quickly wash down the pills, and lie back down and wait for the peacefulness of slumber to take me away.

  It doesn’t happen.

  My mind keeps echoing Owen’s painful words and replaying his ice-cold gaze. I wish I could laugh, but I’m not as cruel as you are, my love. Did I really do that? Did I really laugh at him whenever he asked to marry me? I guess I never really put much thought into how difficult it is for a man to ask a question like that. I never really considered how much it actually meant. Now that I’ve been in the same position, I understand what I’ve done to him, over and over again throughout the years.

  God, how cruel was I? But I never meant to cause him any pain.

  It’s just a piece of paper, isn’t it? A waste of time.

  I must have been the most cold-hearted bitch on the planet. I didn’t just reject him or talk about the reasons I didn’t feel ready. I laughed. Actually laughed. Was I really so awful? I must have been, because I somehow turned the sweetest man on earth into a bitter and hostile creature.

  This isn’t working.

  Reaching to the side, I quickly pop another two sleeping pills into my mouth, frustrated that the first two haven’t kicked in yet. I urgently need to sleep and banish this night from my mind. Once I can get some rest, I am sure that it won’t seem so bad when I wake up.

  I begin to feel foggy, and my headache calms to a dull, minor throbbing in the front of my skull. That’s better. Almost there. I wait for several minutes, but it doesn’t ever become perfectly painless. No matter how long I stay still with my eyes closed, I can’t get comfortable and fall asleep. I shift again, reaching for the bottle once more. There are only a handful of pills remaining, and I am far too tired to keep popping two at a time. I need to be asleep. I need to forget.

  I need a little peace. That’s all I want right now.

  Tossing the remaining pills into my mouth, I wash them down with the remaining water and let my head rest against the pillow. I sigh happily as I close my eyes and imagine Owen’s arms wrapped around me. I imagine him whispering one of his silly jokes into my ear, making me smile and chasing away the pain in my heart.

  I knew it. He’s right here. He was never really gone.

  I finally start to feel that peace that I seek. My heart isn’t pounding in my skull anymore and I can feel the waves of sleepiness washing over me.

  Finally.

  Chapter Seven

  Caroline Hoffman

  A splash of cold water rips me from my dreamless sleep.

  “Wake up!” someone shouts at me. “Wake up!”

  The voice is familiar to me but I can’t seem to recognize who is speaking. My body doesn’t listen to my commands to move even though my mind is starting to become alert.

  “Caroline!” the voice shouts again. “What did you do, Caroline? What did you do?”

  I realize that it’s Owen speaking to me.

  My Owen.

  I knew that he would be here when I woke up. “I couldn’t sleep,” I say softly.

  “Jesus, Caroline!” he shouts. “How many pills did you take?”

  I feel weightless all of the sudden and try to open my eyes as best I can. “Just let me sleep, Owen. My head hurts so badly.”

  “Drink this,” he demands in an authoritative voice.

  My mouth opens on its own, following his instructions. He always was the most attractive when he was being a doctor. A foul tasting liquid touches my tongue and I want to spit out but Owen is there to stop me. He pinches my nose shut and forces me to swallow the syrupy substance. Immediately I feel my insides being ripped apart. Owen guides my head over the bathtub as the contents of my stomach are emptied into the tub.

  It feels like several minutes pass before I finally stop vomiting. I can feel Owen behind me, holding my hair out of the way. My head begins to clear up and my heart stops racing in my chest. I find myself coughing and gripping the edge of the tub as I slowly come to my senses. I feel Owen wiping a washcloth across my lips.

  “What happened?” I ask in a hoarse voice.

  “You almost fucking died,” Owen says bluntly.

  I turn over and rest my head against his strong chest, clinging to him. “I didn’t mean to,” I say brokenly. “I’m sorry.”

  “God, Caroline,” he whispers as he wraps his arms around me tightly. “Don’t you ever do that to me again. You crazy German woman!”

  A smile touches my lips as I rest against him. I feel him running his fingers through my hair in a soothing way. It takes a moment before the gravity of the situation hits me. My eyes find the brown bottle filled with ipecac lying next to us on the floor. My eyes narrow as love fills my chest. “You saved me,” I say tearfully. “You could have just left me there. But you saved me.”

  “Left you there?” Owen says in disbelief as he holds me tighter. “What kind of a man do you think I am?”

  “Someone who doesn’t love me anymore,” I whisper.

  “Carol,” Owen says softly. He leans down and presses his forehead against mine. “You know that isn’t true. Is that why you did this? Did you—did you really try to—”

  “No. I just had a really bad headache.” I bury my head into his chest and tightly grip my fingers into his shirt. “I needed to sleep, Owen. You weren’t there to make the pain go away.”

  He releases a deep sigh and presses his lips against the top of my head. “Girl,” he says in an effeminate voice. “You b
e trippin’. Thanks for scaring the bloody shit out of me!”

  A smile causes my features to relax. “You came back,” I breathe in relief as I cling to him even more. “I knew you’d come back.”

  “Of course,” Owen says gravely. “I left all my good underwear here!”

  My chest begins to shake with laughter. “You moron,” I mumble softly, and I can hear that I have grown too lazy to enunciate carefully, and my accent has grown stronger. “I love you,” I say as tears begin to form in my eyes. “I’m sorry I scared you.”

  “Carmen’s husband killed himself,” he reminds me softly. “So if you were trying to hurt me with some kind of poetic-justice-revenge thing, that’s not cool.”

  “I really didn’t mean for this to happen,” I tell him, gripping his hand tightly. “I just overdid it with the sleeping pills. I was really in a lot of pain, Owen.”

  “Did you try your knitting or meditation, or any other stress relief techniques?” he asks me.

  “No,” I admit in embarrassment. “I was too miserable to do any of that.”

  “Caroline, how many times have I told you to open the pills and put them into a tea?” he asks me with a lifted brow. “Two pills are more than enough if you just put it into a tea and don’t take the stupid capsule.”

  “I needed a quick fix.”

  “And you didn’t consider hitting up one of our neighbors for a booty call?” Owen asks.

  “What? No way,” I say in horror. “Owen, I still consider us together. Maybe you were able to move on easily and completely, but I wasn’t.”

  “It’s not that easy,” he says softly. “I’m so sorry, Caroline. God, I’ve been a dick. I never meant to hurt you like this. I know that I’m responsible for your overdose.”

  “I’m perfectly fine,” I tell him as I struggle to sit up. “I had plenty of time to think, and I know that I deserved this. I know that I hurt you first.”

  “Will you just let me apologize properly?” Owen asks me angrily as he gently grasps my shoulders. “I broke up with you in such an awful way. I just didn’t know how to tell you. It was so hard for me…”

  “You don’t need to explain yourself,” I assure him, turning away.

  “I sure do if you’re going around stuffing pills down your throat!” he says angrily.

  “Owen,” I say warningly. “Don’t…”

  “Don’t what?” he asks me.

  “Don’t pretend you care!” I say sharply as tears stream down my face. “You don’t even want to be here. You just wanted your underwear, right? Well, just take it and leave! Get out!” I pull away from him and put my face in my hands. Only then do I notice that I am naked when the coldness of the bathtub sends a shiver through my body.

  “Just shut up, Caroline,” Owen says as he reaches out to lift me off the ground. He cradles me in his arms and carries me over to our bed. He lays me out gently and presses his hand against my forehead. “I’m going to take care of you,” he tells me. “You need a glass of water.”

  “Don’t you dare tell me what I need!” I say with annoyance. However, he’s right. I could definitely use a glass of water.

  Owen ignores me and returns with a glass, which he gently holds to my lips. “Drink,” he commands.

  “Go screw yourself,” I tell him angrily. “I don’t need your help. Go take care of your new girlfriend.”

  “How about I handle one girlfriend at a time?” Owen says with a suggestive wiggle of his eyebrows.

  I am not meaning to smile, but I do, and he uses the opportunity to shove the water at me again. This time, I reluctantly drink.

  “Good,” Owen says, taking the glass away from me. “Doesn’t that feel better?”

  I scowl at him in response. I don’t know why I’m being so mean, but I guess it’s just the way we normally behave. Also, I feel the need to scare him away before he can hurt me again.

  “I’m going to spend the night here,” Owen declares suddenly. “I’ve got to keep an eye on you and make sure you don’t do anything stupid.”

  “I’m a big girl, Owen,” I tell him softly. “I can take care of myself.”

  “Like hell you can,” he says with a scoff.

  I am a little surprised by his aggressive manner. This is not the same man I love. This man has a backbone.

  Owen climbs into the bed beside me. He gathers me up into his arms and presses his face against my shoulder. “I’m right here, Caroline. I’ll always be here for you. You know that.”

  “I actually don’t.”

  “Sure you do,” he says lightly. “Come on. No matter what happens in life, you’ll always be a part of me. And I’ll always be a part of you. We helped each other grow, and we built so much. We will always be friends.”

  “That’s what people always say,” I tell him glumly.

  “Well, I’m not people,” Owen says softly. He’s quiet for a few seconds as he holds me, and I feel myself finally drifting off to sleep. After a moment, he speaks again, and his voice is filled with emotion.

  “Caroline,” he says brokenly. “My car died.”

  “Oh, sweetie,” I say softy, as guilt floods my chest. “I’m so sorry. It must be my fault. I drove it all the way out to—”

  “No, no,” he interrupts with a shake of his head. “I knew that she was hanging on by a thread. I just thought that she’d go out in a blaze of glory, like a war hero or something. Not die in her sleep.”

  Reaching up, I rub his arm gently. “I know how much you loved that old scrap heap.”

  “I got into a big fight with Carmen after your impromptu proposal,” Owen tells me sadly. “I was really drunk and I think I hurt her feelings. She disappeared… and I haven’t been able to reach her. I’m a little worried.”

  I stiffen slightly at the mention of his other woman. “Maybe she just thought that you should give me another chance,” I suggest.

  “Maybe,” Owen says quietly, “but she could be in trouble. She has a twisted vendetta against this really dangerous guy, and he’s hurt her before. I should check on her to make sure that she’s okay.”

  “I’m sure she’s fine,” I tell him as I stroke his hair in the soothing way that always makes him sleepy. “Don’t worry so much, panda bear.”

  Owen smiles and snuggles closer against me.

  “It’s good to be home,” he says softly.

  Chapter Eight

  Bradford West

  I dip my hand into the bathwater, testing its temperature in order to make sure it is suitable. “It’s too cold,” I snap, scolding the maid behind me. “Do you want my bride-to-be getting sick on our wedding night? Fetch me a bucket of hot water, now.”

  “Yes, sir,” she tells me nervously as she scurries out of the room.

  I turn around and cast my gaze toward Carmen’s sleeping form. Her chest rises and falls in subtle motions. She is so still that I might think she was dead if I did not know better. The torches hanging from the stone walls illuminate the room in a soft orange light. It touches her golden hair just right, creating the illusion that the silken strands are ablaze.

  My lips curl upward in pleasure as I extend my fingers to slowly caress the velvet skin of her arm. There are little transparent hairs standing up on her skin, glowing in the firelight. I stop once I feel the rough fabric of her shirt, and my brows furrow in contempt. These clothes are far too filthy and coarse for my blushing bride.

  “Set the wedding gown up on the door,” I order my maid as she returns. “I want it ready for when she finishes her bath.”

  “Yes, sir,” she says as she begins to pour the steaming water into the bath. “I return soon.”

  “Good,” I tell her gruffly. “Make sure it’s perfect. I want my woman to look resplendent for the ceremony.”

  She nods as she turns on her heel, quickly running off to complete her task. I observe the meek woman carefully as I watch her go; her eagerness to serve and ability to follow instructions have kept her under my employ for longer than most. It also h
elps that I have threatened to torture and murder her siblings in front of her if she displeases me.

  I stride over to the tub and run my hands over the surface of the water. “Much better,” I say to myself as I flick the water off of my fingers. I return to Carmen’s side and gently lift her head off the bed. Slowly, I begin to remove her ragged and dirty dress from her body, revealing her perfect porcelain skin.

  My eyes are drawn to the subtle stretch marks on her abdomen. I am reminded of her recent pregnancy, and my stomach turns in disgust. That was an inconvenient matter. I softly slide the tips of my fingers against the lines across her skin. One of my eyebrows twitch in irritation. Grayson, you fool, I think to myself, cursing the dead.

  Still, there is something charming about the stripe-like marks on her stomach. Carmen almost resembles a wild tigress, and the comparison causes my groin to tighten in anticipation. I imagine her body moving beneath mine as I thrust myself into her. The feeling grows more, and my mind begins to get cloudy. I slide my hand down her body, hooking my fingers in the waistband of her white cotton panties. I gently slide them off her hips and revel in the sight of her nude form. I push her thighs apart so I can gaze upon the intricate folds of her forbidden flower.

  Hunger gnaws at my groin as I lean forward, my mind aching with need for her. I breathe in deeply, inhaling Carmen’s intoxicating scent. She smells like strawberries. Strawberries and ash. I reach out with shaking hands to brush my thumbs against the outline of her vulva. I remember the amazing sensation of entering her, only a few days ago.

  That was before she fled.

  What made her think she could flee from me?

  As my fingers move to penetrate her flesh, I have to force myself to stop. Later, I promise myself. Soon she will be mine forever, and I will have all the time in the world to do as I wish. There is no use in defiling her body before the moment is perfect.

  As I move to discard Carmen’s clothes, my eyes are drawn to her softly rising breasts. My breathing becomes shallow as I gaze upon the perfect mounds. Her nipples are stiffening in the cool air, and growing hard as little pink diamonds. Ash clings to her face from the fire, and her feet are black from soot. This will have to be rectified before our wedding can commence.