The Wicked

We pick up some takeout from my restaurant, then we go back to his hotel. He hands his keys over to the valet, and with bags of food in my hands, I follow Hayden onto the elevator.

Everything feels normal with him. I didn’t hesitate to come here to make him better, and that scares me. It feels like I’m falling back into the place I was before, when my entire world revolved around Hayden Monroe and nothing else mattered. I haven’t even bothered to tell him that I broke off my engagement. I feel like that will open a whole different can of worms I’m not ready to face.

Hayden presses the button for the penthouse, and I chuckle.

“What?” he says, facing me.

“Nothing,” I say, smiling. “Just a very Hayden Monroe thing to do, book the penthouse when you’re only staying for a few days.”

He shrugs, laughing softly. “Yeah, well. Some things don’t change.”

I hum between my lips to agree, and we spend the rest of the elevator ride in silence. When the doors open, I follow him out into the make-shift lobby outside the entrance to the penthouse. He digs around in his pockets for his key, then scans it over the sensor on the door to unlock it.

Stepping in, he holds the door open for me. “Go ahead.”

Walking past him, I scan my gaze around the room. It’s high end, but still has a beach-resort feel to it. The art on the walls is all neutral, but with touches of elegance that show me how much this room must be costing him.

I put the bags of food down on the table just inside. “Hungry?”

Hayden closes the door, locking it, then faces me. “Not really.”

I laugh. “So why did we stop and get food?”

He shrugs, quiet for a moment as he stares at me. “P, what’re you doing here?”

Sighing, I shake my head. “I don’t know. I just couldn’t leave you to deal with this alone.”

Stepping toward me, he reaches a hand out to touch me, and I move out of his reach. “Don’t.”

He nods, freezing. We stare at each other for another breath, then he takes a step away. “I’m going to take a shower. Make yourself at home.”

He’s turning and walking away before I can respond, so I dig around in the bags and pull out my dinner. I haven’t eaten since this morning, and my stomach growls when I smell the fettuccine inside the plastic containers. Grabbing a plastic fork, I make my way across the suite and find the mini fridge, grabbing a bottle of water and balancing it in my arms as I head for the couch.

I put everything down on the coffee table, then kick off my shoes.

Sighing and taking the lid off my food, I settle back on the couch and eat in silence.

What am I doing?

The question repeats over and over again in my mind as I eat slowly, and everything starts to click. Maybe Hayden is right – maybe we met at the wrong time, maybe it would work if we tried now, but I’m so scared of what could go wrong that a weight starts to settle in my gut whenever I think of trusting him again. I’m still too angry, too bitter, too fucking scarred.

When my food is gone, I put the lid back on the container and get up to throw it away. Settling back on the couch, I turn my head and rest it on the back.

Hayden appears across the room a moment later, a pair of sweats hanging on his hips, with his chest bare.

He looks refreshed, and part of me craves a shower as well, wanting to wash away the feeling of being at the hospital.

“Hey.” He sits next to me, grabbing a cushion and wrapping his arms around it. “Did you eat?”

I nod. “Yeah.”

“Good.”

Silence takes over, and it feels like a living, breathing thing.

I focus on the sound of his breathing, closing my eyes to let the noise calm my racing heart. I always loved listening to Hayden breathe – there were so many nights I stayed up just to bask in the sound of him simply existing. It used to be my favorite song, my mantra that everything was going to be okay. The thought brings tears to my eyes so I close them tighter.

“You don’t have to stay here, Penelope. I’m okay, I promise.” His voice slices through the silence like a knife, and I risk cracking my eyes open to look at him.

He’s so beautiful, even with the ghost of everything underneath his gaze.

“I’m staying,” I say, and his eyes find mine. Something snaps within me, and I want to cross the space and kiss him.

Instead, I close my eyes again like a coward, like a little girl avoiding the truth.

“Tell me about your life now,” I say, breathing through my nose.

He clears his throat, pulling his legs up on the couch and getting comfortable. “I have a house in Santa Monica, I work for my father’s company – which I guess is mine now – Levi works with me too. I surf when I can, but I don’t have a lot of time.”

“Are you dating?” I ask, the question sour on my tongue.

“No,” Hayden answers.

“Why not?”

He shifts in his seat, and I open my eyes to look at him. He’s staring at me, something in his eyes that makes me uncomfortable. “I don’t want to talk about this, P.”

I nod. “Okay.”

His hand slides to my leg, and I hate how good it feels. I don’t push it away, allowing myself to enjoy it. “Your turn. Tell me about the last four years.”

Sitting up straight, I thread my hands together. “My dad died a few weeks after you left, then a few months later, my mom died unexpectedly – a stroke. I stayed in their house for months, then finally sold it. After a year, I tried to think about my future again. Everything else kind of fell into place without me realizing. I found the restaurant and Gavin, and it’s been day-to-day ever since.”

He takes a deep breath before he speaks. “I never took you for someone who would be happy living day-to-day.”

I shrug, finding his gaze. “Yeah, well. Shit happens.”

“P…” he starts, lifting his hand to my chin. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Hayden.”

He shakes his head when I shrug again. “It doesn’t seem like it. It seems like you’re still really fucking broken.”

His words reach deep down inside me, and moisture licks at the back of my eyes. “You weren’t here to pick up the pieces of what you did, so I had to do all the heavy lifting alone, and then everything else crumbled down around me, and it just got too fucking heavy. I’m fine. I’ve learned to live with all of this brokenness at my feet, and it all feels normal now.”

He leans toward me, and I pull back.

“Don’t.”

“Penelope.” He shakes his head, looking away. “Tell me what I can do to make the parts that I broke better.”

“There’s nothing…” I answer, a tear rolling down my face. “You’ll go back to California and live your life, and I’ll still be here, in Luxington, living in the ashes of everything my life has become.”

I can tell that my words have hit home, because he flinches and his face morphs into a sadness that feels so familiar it burns. Clearing my throat, I try to change the subject. “Is there anything I can do to help with the funeral? Do you have a plan?”

“It’s all taken care of.”

“Okay.”

A few minutes pass with no words exchanged, and I hate how uncomfortable it makes me. And then, Hayden stands up. “I think I’m going to go to bed. You’re welcome to use one of the other rooms – or if you want to go home, that’s fine.”

“Okay,” I repeat, even though nothing is okay right now. “Sleep well.”

He doesn’t look at me. “You too.”

I watch him walk across the suite, into his bedroom, and when he turns to close the door, he finally meets my gaze. He looks broken too, even if I don’t want to admit that it’s possible because of how selfish my own brokenness has made me – and my heart splits open. As he closes the door, I keep my eyes on him, and when it finally shuts, I blow out the breath I didn’t know I was holding, a tear rolling down my cheek.

Around 4 a.m., I wake up under the heavy comforter on the bed, confused as to where I am. It’s a moment before I remember I’m in one of the bedrooms in Hayden’s suite, and I sit up to drink some of the water on the nightstand.

There’s a boulder in my gut, spinning and rocking, and it makes me throw the comforter off and step out. Creeping my way out of the room, my eyes adjust to the darkness in the main area, and I slowly walk toward the room Hayden is in. When I approach, I push the door open, trying not to wake him, just needing to see him.

He’s under the blankets, his chest rising and falling slowly, and I take a couple of steps into the room to listen to him breathing.

After a moment, his voice cuts through the silence, heavy with sleep. “Come here.”

I hesitate, but eventually walk toward him and climb into bed without another moment of hesitation. He rolls over, wrapping his body around me and engulfing me in the heat I didn’t know how much I missed. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” I whisper, curling against him. His hands stroke down my bare arms, and my skin turns to goosebumps. Silence falls, and the sound of him breathing fills my ears. I listen to him until I’m confident he’s fallen asleep, then I finally close my eyes and let sleep consume me too.