Being Me(Inside Out 02)(89)

“Don’t shut me out.” My voice quakes.
“I’m protecting you.”
“By shoving me away? By using everything but me to get through this?”
“I’m going to destroy you, Sara, and I can’t live with that.”
I can almost hear a locked door closing between us. “Shutting me out will destroy me.”
“You’ll thank me later for this, I promise you. I’m going to have Jacob and Blake look out for you and get you through this Rebecca thing.”
Like he has some obligation to protect me. “I don’t need anyone to get me through anything. Just like you, right, Chris?
If we’re over, we’re over. I’ll get a mover to take my things back to my apartment.”
“No.” He grabs my arm and pulls me to him. “Don’t make me f*cking worry about you on top of dealing with Dylan. You’re staying in the apartment and you’re accepting protection until Blake says you are safe, or I swear to God, Sara, I’ll lock you in a room and keep you there.”
I squeeze my eyes shut, and try to find some cold comfort in the fact that he doesn’t want me to leave. That maybe, just maybe, he’s clinging to me and us, and this tonight is all his pain talking.
“Just go do what you have to do.”
“You’re staying at the apartment.”
“Fine. Yes. I’ll stay.”
Slowly, his grip on my arm eases and he lets me go. “I’ll have a driver take you to the apartment. I’m going straight to the airport.”
I fight the pain that makes me want to turn and dart away.
He’s hurting. He’s not himself. “I’ll fly up for the funeral.”
“No. That’s not necessary, and it won’t be in L.A. anyway.”
“I’m coming to the funeral,” I insist, and walk up to him and press a kiss to his mouth. “I love you, Chris. Nothing about tonight changes that.” Slowly, I pull back, but he won’t look at me. With extreme effort, I turn and blindly walk to the door. I reach for the knob and hesitate, waiting for him to stop me, but he doesn’t.
He lets me leave.
I have no memory of how I make it to the front of the mansion. Suddenly I am walking down the steps, and a guy in a suit is watching me expectantly. I don’t stop at the bottom. I don’t stop for him. I keep walking, and I reach for my cell phone as I tell him, “Open the gate.” I dial information. “Connect me to a cab company.”
“What address do you need?” the woman on the other line asks.
I grimace as I realize I have no clue and I’m halfway down the winding path approaching the exit. Not knowing where I am is yet again another brilliant move on my part. “I’ll call back when I get to a street sign,” I say and hang up, noting the closed gate before me.
It doesn’t open when I finally reach it and I wrap my hands around the steel bars and drop my forehead to the metal. It’s icy cold beneath my palms. How appropriate, since I’m freezing to death in every possible way.
The sound of a car behind me gives me hope the gates will open and I step aside to find the Jaguar beside me. The window slides down. “Get in,” Mark orders.
I consider declining but I just want out of here. I just want out. I climb into the car.

Chapter Twenty-seven

“Where do you want to go?” Mark asks, leaving the car idling.
I don’t look at him. I stare blindly out of the window and give him my apartment address. I don’t care that I have no furniture. Chris has his way of dealing with things and I have mine.
The idea of returning to Chris’s place, which was supposed to be our place, is unbearable tonight. I’ll face it tomorrow.
“Sara,” Mark says softly and I turn to him. “Are you okay?”
“Not yet. But I’ll find a way to survive. I always do.”
“You don’t need to be alone. I have a spare bedroom and I live a few blocks from here.”
“No. I’m not going to your place. Thank you, but I need to be alone.”
He considers me for a moment and puts the car into drive.
Numbness begins to form within me. I remember this sensation when my mother died. The absolute nothingness of what I felt, and I welcome it, recognizing it as my mind’s way of surviving.
Twenty minutes later, I break the silence and direct Mark to my building. “You can just let me out here.”
“I’m walking you to your door.”
I sigh inwardly. I won’t win this battle and I don’t have a fight left in me anyway.
He parks and we walk to my door. I turn to him. “Thanks for the ride.”
“Let me have your phone.”