That One Moment (Lost in London #2)(37)

Suddenly, he snatches my phone from my hands.

“Hey!” I exclaim and reach over to grab it back. He holds it just out of reach and I clamber over him to grab it. “Give it back!”

His chest rumbles with laughter. “Vi, this will be so much easier if we get this over with quickly.”

“Get what over quickly?” I ask, looking down at him and realising with a burst of excitement that my chest is pressed snugly against his.

He looks down as if recognising the same thing. Rolling his tongue against the inside of his cheek, his eyes twinkle with mirth as he returns his gaze to mine. “I’m going to go through your playlist, Vi.” His voice is husky and ominous. “We can do this the easy way or the hard way.”

I arch one challenging brow at him. “Which way means you don’t get to go through my playlist?” I ask, propping my cheek on my hand and resting my elbow on his chest in mock indignation.

His face screws up in contemplation as he stares into the lanterns. “Neither,” he teases while shooting out from beneath me and dashing away just as I make a swipe for it.

“Oh Christ,” he moans, scrolling through the list.

“What?” I ask, already certain I know the answer to my question, but needing confirmation before I start defending myself.

The tone of his voice rises into a comedic shrill panic. “Oh Christ! Vi, Vi, Vi. This is worse than I expected.”

“Just tell me you cheeky bugger!” I exclaim, resting my head on one of the pillows and preparing myself for the definite mockery coming my way.

“You have…One Direction on here.” He walks over to me with a pained look on his face and falls backward onto the cushion beside me. He wields my phone as a knife and acts as though he is piercing it through his chest. “And Bieber. And…Christ, I can’t even say it.” He covers his eyes with his arm. “Miley Cyrus. Fuuuuck, Vi.”

Without warning, and before he uncovers his eyes, I sock him hard in the stomach. He explodes a breath of warm air and curls up into the fetal position, laughing and groaning in unison.

“I didn’t give you permission to look through it,” I chastise, laughing at his ridiculous face. “Judge all you want, but their tunes are bloody catchy.”

He sits up and looks at me pensively. His long leg is bent with one elbow resting on it in the most relaxed way I’ve ever seen him look. “How did your tough footballer brothers ever let you get away with this?”

I bite my lip and it does nothing to conceal my huge shit-eating grin. His knowing eyes turn wide.

“They like them all too,” he guesses.

I nod, bursting into a fit of giggles. “You should see Gareth’s pre-match playlist. He’s got Taylor Swift!” My laughs really take off as Hayden sighs heavily and falls onto his back in complete defeat.

“I feel like a kid who’s just been told there’s no Santa,” he whines.

“Oi, it’s all right, love,” I say in a proper mother hen voice while leaning over him so he can see into my eyes. “Father Christmas still lives in our Beiber-loving hearts.”

The crinkles around Hayden’s eyes as he laughs are enchanting. Every individual line is an expression of his heart. As if he sees something similar in me, his hand moves to touch my face. He drags the backs of his fingers down my cheek and then brushes my nose affectionately.

“I think I’ll find a way to forgive you,” he whispers in a quiet voice.

My heart swells and I bite my lip, battling away the incredible urge I have to lean down and kiss him. He’s right there…He’s right f*cking there! But it’s he who needs to guide this ship…Not me.

I swallow hard and sit up, moving off his chest and into a more proper sitting position. “Day two, right?” I ask, attempting to shake off the heady desire rushing through me.

He sits up and I catch sight of his happy eyes draining into pools of anxiety. He clenches his jaw and nods stoically. I’m unsure if his mood shift is because of my abrupt change of subject, or because of what we’re about to discuss. Either way, he begins informing me that day two was the day he wrote his suicide note.

Suicide. Note.

Those two words alone cause my heart to thunder beneath my chest. I find myself nodding repetitively. Hayden reaches out and touches my hand. “I have it here with me, and I want you to read it…But only if you think you can handle it.” His grey eyes are wide and haunting as he waits on bated breath for my answer.

The severity of his request is not lost on me. I’ll never be able to unread something like this. But I can’t say no. I need to read it as much as he wants me to read it. For whatever reason, Hayden Clarke has chosen me to walk this journey with him and I can’t turn off his path now. I nod again as he pulls out a tattered piece of yellow legal paper and hands it over to me.

My hands tremble as I unfold the note. Watching me must be too painful because he stands up and strides over to the edge of the rooftop. The city lights pop on one-by-one as the London skyline turns more and more black…



To My Family,

People write letters like this to tell you why, right? Why did I do this? Well, I hope I’m clear because the last thing I want to do is leave you all with any shred of doubt. I need you all to know that what I did to myself was something I chose to do on my own. It wasn’t something that anyone pushed me into, and I don’t want any of you worrying over the idea that you could have done anything to prevent this.