Master of Death (Hollow #2)

CHAPTER 8

The buzzing of my phone against my night table wakes me up from my disturbed sleep Sunday morning. When I got back home to Chicago last night, after an uneventful flight with Damon, Harvey was already asleep.

So, after taking a shower, I lay awake for most of the night knowing I had to break both of our hearts today.

I breathe in and out, grabbing my phone, reading a text from my dad asking if I thought about his and Gia’s suggestion. I reply to him that I’ll move back home. Then I read his text saying he’s leaving for Seattle for a few weeks and to use my house key to get in.

This is really happening.

The door to my room opens fast and slams against the wall. I leave my dad’s text unanswered, my eyes locking with Harvey’s.

“How could you do this?” His nostrils flare, his eyes shredding part of his inner demon. I was hoping I could gather all the courage I’d need for our conversation, but it seems we’re doing this now.

And the three days apart hasn’t calmed his fury.

You betrayed him.

I did. No matter my reasoning, no matter the messed-up logic behind me falling for Damon, I need to remember that I betrayed Harv. I love him and I hurt him, and I need to take responsibility for that.

“Can I go to the washroom? Then we can talk—”

“You know, Claire warned me about this. She noticed the little things—slightly more makeup, the work outfits, working overtime.”

I close my eyes, placing my head on the pillow. I hear him wheel himself toward me, and I know he’s right next to the bed, near my face, but all I can think about is why she would’ve been telling him these things about me.

“Open your fucking eyes .”

I do. I do, and I wish I didn’t because he’s harboring so much pain in his own.

If you cared so much about me, why didn’t you show it? Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you shout it out to the whole world if I meant so much to you?

“You told me you noticed.”

“What?” he asks, confusion lacing through his voice.

“Before we broke up, you said you didn’t understand how I could think you wouldn’t notice these changes in me, but you just admitted that Claire noticed. She noticed—not you. There lies the problem, Harv.”

“What’s your point? Don’t talk like that. Stop looking at me like that!”

“Like what?” I sit up straight, leaning against the bed.

“Like you’re sorry. Who would’ve known it would be so hard for you to remain loyal to me? The going gets tough and you land yourself on another dick .”

I shake my head, counting to ten.

The screaming lady has returned. She’s back. She’s always roaming my inner mind when I’m around Harv.

“I’ve been there for you through everything,” I tell him. “There’s no part of me I didn’t give you—you just threw it all away. You rejected me until eventually I caught on and gave you space.”

There’s a crack in his armor. His usual unattainable self, the one he’s perfected over the past few years, is gone.

He’s been crumbling ever since I broke up with him, and while it’s hard to witness, I think we both need to crack so we can flourish outside of each other.

I could stay with him and make him happy, at least happy to the extent of what he believes he deserves, but what about me?

It’s not fair to either of us.

“You don’t know what it’s like.” He looks away, biting on his lip. “To be in this fucking chair ... to struggle to walk ... you don’t know what it’s like!”

He eyes me warily before he continues, “Instead of us being equals, you have to look down at me all the time. I can’t be the man I used to be. I can’t do the things I used to do with you. I can’t ride with you, and I sure as hell can’t be the man who walks up to you and fucks you against the wall.” He runs out of breath when he finishes, and finally he’s shedding some light as to why he might’ve pushed me away.

“Harvey,” I whisper. “The body doesn’t make the man ... his spirit does. And in case you haven’t noticed, you have a really nice body.” I clear my throat. “You know I’ll never be able to understand, but you could’ve let me in.”

“I did—”

“No.” I shake my head. “No. You let Claire in, not me. Seriously, Harvey, why her?”

“Because you’re on my case for everything. For fuck sakes, Gemma, she’s my nurse, yet you treat me more like a patient than she does!”

I replay his words—wondering if there’s any truth to them—if I really treated him like fragile glass. If I might’ve broken my promise to him, too, since I promised him after the accident that I wouldn’t treat him as such.

Is that when he started resenting me? When I started treating him like a to-do list rather than a human being?

He breathes deeply. “And Claire is just light ... in this darkness.”

His words cut deep. It’s as I suspected—she’s a lovely sunny summer day, while I’m quiet chaos.

I clear my throat. “You never gave me a chance to make it better. You never even gave yourself a chance to be better, to go outside and smell the fresh air. You don’t even leave your damn room, Harv. But listen—it doesn’t have to be all bad.”

“It’s not that simple—to be constantly stared at and pitied everywhere you go.”

I stare at the ceiling, trying to contain the tears before I whisper, “Why didn’t you tell me you felt this way?”

He swallows, and I know that I’m right. I crawl to the end of the bed, sitting on my knees, reaching for his hand, but he swats mine away.

Always, always, always pushing me away.

Just like Damon.

“Well, I’m telling you now.”

“And that’s the problem. You’re telling me now, not then. You can be happy with her, you know. It’s okay.”

I keep all my emotions in check so I don’t collapse and lose every part of myself in front of him. “You’ll be okay. You will be happy one day.” My voice breaks when I notice a tear leak from his eye. He’s blinking rapidly, refusing to look at me, but I continue. I have so much to say to him, so much to get off my chest. “You can continue drawing and maybe start working at the tattoo parlor? Even if for an hour. You can—”

“Stop! Why the fuck do you want to leave me so bad ?”

When he closes his eyes, I muster the bravery of a thousand soldiers. “You deserve better. We both do.”

“Why, because you’re whoring around with your boss, or because you love him?”

I take a deep breath, containing my anger, trying to wash away the fact that he loves another woman. Because I cheated first.

It’d break his heart to admit the truth, and I don’t have a heart anymore. It’s gone. Damon has it, and the rest is smashed into pieces.

I have nothing left for Harv.

So, I ignore his question, hoping to save him from more pain.

But he grinds his teeth instead, hatred pouring out of his light-blue eyes like acid burning me alive.

“I hate you.” He wheels himself back like a caged animal, ready to escape, as if he suddenly realized the truth his statement holds. “I hate you.”

He rubs his eyes, and the words leave my mouth before it’s too late, before I repeat this vicious cycle—the one drowning me over and over again without any light in sight.

“We’re done, Harv.” I swallow. “I’m moving out. My dad’s in Seattle, so I’ll be living at home in the meantime.”

His chuckle fills me with lead. He’s crying, shaking his head, shifting away from the bed. “You know, sometimes I wished I’d died in the crash.”

“Harvey, stop! Don’t say that. I think it’s time you speak to someone. Or Claire—you shouldn’t keep everything inside.”

“And right now,” he continues, ignoring my comment, “I wish you’d died with me.”

I freeze.

His hateful words are powerful, all consuming, to the point where numbness overtakes me completely. For a second, I wonder if all of this is my fault—if I truly am to blame for our breaking point.

Surely a stake to the heart would’ve been less painful, but I let him dig it further into my chest.

I’m so sorry.

Harvey . . .

“Gemma? Gemma, can you hear me?” Gia tells me while we’re on the phone.

“Um, yeah. Yeah, I’m here.”

“Are you okay? How was New York?”

I swallow, holding back a million tears threatening to fall. The screaming lady is crying all my tears. There are so many of them that I don’t think she’ll ever stop.

“It was good.”

“Oh, Sis, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I wanted to hear your voice.”

In true Gia fashion, she talks about Athena and her pregnancy. Hearing her talk about other things makes me feel better somehow.

As much as I know my family will be there for me during this tough time, I must heal by myself.

To find myself, all by myself.

The lost girl, who’s somewhere deep within. And the future me, who’s itching to be found.

“I’m moving out.” I say eventually. “We’re done. Going to Dad’s.”

“We’re all here for you.”

She tells me to let her know when, then we hang up. I head to the basement, gathering piles and piles of boxes that Gia had kept from the last time we moved here.

Don’t think of that.

It’s done.

I do several trips, bringing them to my room, then I text Henrik, letting him know that Harv knows.

About an hour later, I’ve packed my room, since I don’t own many things.

I sit on one of the boxes, looking at the empty shelves around me. A few work outfits linger in my closet, and I’ve kept casual clothes on the top of my dresser, in case.

Hen finds me like that when he comes in after knocking on the door. He sits on the floor, his back against the bed, staring at the empty space.

“I’m gonna miss you, little sis. You better keep in touch no matter what happens between you two. I’ll bring the good weed.”

I squeeze his hand, nodding, before letting go. “Always.”

Henrik and I are friends. I don’t see that changing anytime soon. But things won’t be the same.

A breakup always means losing more than the partner. It means losing the family that came with it, the dreams, the future. Everything runs dry, leaving you feeling hopeless and helpless.

“Did you talk to your parents?” I ask.

“You don’t worry about anything. We’ll be here for him.”

“Well, look at that.” Harv’s in the doorway. “Here to fuck him too?”

“What the fuck, Harvey?” Henrik looks pissed, which is something I thought I’d never see in my lifetime.

“Shut up, Hen. What’re you doing here?”

“I’m helping her pack.”

Harvey’s eyes widen. “She’s not leaving.”

“I’m pret-ty sure she is.” Henrik swirls his forefinger in the air, signaling the empty room with the boxes piled up near the door.

“Gemma, we can fix this. What’re you doing? You’re not leaving me. Let’s talk about this.”

I stand, ready to keep packing. He’ll just slow me down, and I don’t want to fight anymore.

“Please, let’s work through this, Gemma.”

I shake my head. Not this time.

“I’m trying here, and every time I do, you push back.” He’s pleading, his voice desperate. He keeps looking at his brother like he wants him out of our house.

“I’d say you have two years of groveling to catch up on.” Henrik narrows his eyes at him.

Harvey leaves, and I want to run to him and apologize. I can’t, though, because I’m trying to break this cycle where both of us are depressed, and neither of us have the courage to leave.

Henrik and I move to the bathroom, and he starts throwing stuff into boxes. We continue packing most of my stuff, with him sporadically asking me if something’s mine.

I feel my body ready to crash, to tumble to the floor and give out. I want to, but I don’t. I keep going, focusing on one box at a time, one question from Henrik at a time. We move to the kitchen and then the basement.

I order tacos as takeout from a local restaurant and hand Henrik a few beers for dinner. Harvey never leaves his room.

If I truly think about leaving him and let myself feel the pain associated with my decision, I won’t make it out of here.

Before leaving, Henrik goes to Harvey’s room to speak with him. He looks pensive when he comes out, and I bring him to the front door.

“He’s a mess,” Henrik says. I can sense his nerves even though he tries to say it nonchalantly.

“I’ll talk to him,” I reassure him. “Thanks for everything.”

He shrugs. “Of course. Text me when you move. I’ll help.”

I throw myself into his arms.

I know I’m being silly, but I’ve grown accustomed to having Hen in my life since Harvey and I started dating. He’s become a close friend, and I don’t want to lose him. While others might judge and give me critical advice (Gia and Layla), Henrik will pass me a joint and list a million reasons why my life is beautiful.

“Don’t be foolish. I’ll always bug you still.” He pats my head and presses a kiss over it. My heart constricts, full of goodbyes and sadness and sorrow.

I can’t do this.

I can’t leave him.

“Promise me you’ll watch him like a hawk.”

He promises and then leaves.

I gather all my courage, knocking on Harvey’s door. When I step in, I adjust the light in his room—it’s dark in here.

He’s not gaming like I expected him to be. The TV’s turned off, and he’s staring at it.

“Harvey.” I sit on his bed, breathing in the smell in the room. Such a different fragrance from Damon, and yet so good all the same.

I’ll miss him. I’ll miss his smell, his random remarks, his laugh when he picks up Athena, his art, his silence.

I’ll miss everything about you, Harv. But perhaps one day I won’t.

“Can I hold you? One last time?” he asks.

I feel like I’m dry heaving. Why couldn’t he have asked me that before I met Damon? Why did he need to hear that I wanted another man for him to care?

He puts his hand out after I nod. I grab it, holding on tightly, not knowing if this is the last time I’ll feel his warmth.

I was right. I do love Harvey.

He pulls me to his lap on his wheelchair, and I let myself have this moment. I wrap my arms around his neck, and we hug each other—tightly.

“When are you leaving?”

I shrug, closing my eyes. “Probably this week. I’m not sure.” I need to make arrangements. I hope to rent a truck as soon as possible.

“You’ll be at your dad’s?”

“Yeah.”

We’re silent for a while.

Why did we wait until it was all too late?

“I’ll do anything to keep you, Gemma.” His fingers trace my collarbone—his favorite spot on my body.

“I know. People will go to great lengths when desperate. Then the routine kicks in, and we’ll be right back where we started.”

“No—no—you’re wrong.”

“Harvey, please, I don’t want to fight.”

“ Babe , I’ll do anything.” His term of endearment doesn’t flatter me anymore, not when I heard him call Claire the same a few days ago.

I stand from his lap, needing to go to sleep before I make any false promises.

I break all my promises to Harvey.

First, I told him I’d never go back on a sport bike after the accident, and I broke this promise with Damon during our LA work trip. Then, I told him we’d try to fight for us.

“Good night, Harv.” I’m about to walk away when I hear words I never thought he’d speak. It goes against what he believes in. It wounds his pride and murders his ego.

“Therapy.” His whisper carries through the room. “I’ll go to therapy with you.”

My hand trembles against the door, the remains of my heart breaking into smaller pieces.

Therapy.

How many times did I beg him not to stop his sessions after the accident? That we should do joint therapy? Maybe I should’ve pushed him further. Maybe then we could’ve fixed what was broken between us.

But then I wouldn’t have met Damon.

“I can’t do this anymore,” I say.

“Take your space, but let’s try. You promised you’d try.”

“It was wrong. I was wrong to promise you that.”

“Therapy—think about it. Good night, Gemma.”

I stand outside his room, waiting for him to get in bed before I leave a crack open and let his soft snoring soothe my heart like a lullaby.

I hate you.

His earlier words spoken with such disgust flash through my mind. He saved his best card for last. Therapy. I can’t think about anything. I just want to make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid.

I wake up in the middle of the night, having curled asleep in front of his door. I check on him again, and when I see that he’s sleeping, I head back to my room.

I love Harvey, but I love Damon more.

It doesn’t make sense; none of this makes sense.

But that’s love. It doesn’t have barriers, nor boundaries, nor borders to cross. Love simply is. In its most subjective form. Love is anything if not irrational.

Raw. Bleeding. Passion. Fire. Fury.

Love doesn’t need measurement tools. It’s felt. And it knows.

The heart always knows. You can’t lie to it.

It knows more than you do.