Unravel(3)

Lachlan leans close to me. I keep my eyes on the table, but the smooth surface starts to blur as tears pool in my eyes. Something terrible is brewing. I can feel it.

“I can’t keep doing this,” he says.

I look at him. I see the pain in his eyes. “I need you to visit me,” my voice cracks. “It’s the only thing keeping me going.”

Lachlan looks out the window. My fingers reach out and I grip the collar of his shirt, forcing him to look directly at me.

“You can’t leave me.”

A tense silence wraps around us. He looks at me through his eyelashes, his expression grim. One by one, his fingers wrap around my wrists. Firmly, he pulls my fingers off his shirt.

“I’m not leaving you. That’s the last thing I want. But I don’t think I’m helping you. I think I just make everything worse,” he says slowly.

“You help me,” I insist. “Whenever you visit things are better.”

Lachlan says nothing.

“You’re just having a bad day. I’m having a bad day. Tomorrow things will be better and—”

His head turns. I see the look in his eyes. It doesn’t matter what I say. He isn’t going to change his mind.

Everything around me has been a chaotic mess, yet he has stood firm. And now he’s shredding my world.

This must be what hell feels like. It has to be. My lungs are constricting. I can’t breathe. I rub my eyes with my palms, moving my head back and forth in denial. If Lachlan stops coming I’m afraid of what will happen. My sanity is being held together by a threadbare string. I’ll break before that frozen water drop does.

Feeling his hand on my shoulder makes me shake. He squeezes once. I force my hands to stay on the table.

His hand drifts away. There Lachlan goes, walking out of my life.

I turn in my chair. “Wait!”

Lachlan turns around.

At this point, I’m desperate. I know I’m losing him. “Do you remember what you said to me a year ago?” I ask.

His jaw tightens. He looks away and I know he’s trying not to respond to my question, but he can’t help himself. Even when you’re angry, love tugs at your soul in the most painful way. It makes you care—makes you feel—when that’s the last thing you want.

He nods stiffly.

“Then, please, don’t do this,” I say.

He steps forward.

“Lachlan,” Mary calls out behind him.

He stops.

I plead with my eyes. Seconds pass and I think he’s going to tell Mary to f*ck off. I think he’s going to say he didn’t mean what he said. But he slowly backs away.

The world rips out from under my feet. I’m in a free fall, frantically trying to grab onto anything that will save me.

Lachlan’s figure starts to become hazy. My skull feels like it’s been cracked in half. I grip the table and slump forward. Tables and chairs disappear into thin air. The walls crack and shatter to the floor. New walls, the rich shade of brown, burst from the ground. The tan linoleum floors fade into plush, white carpet.

The windows shatter around me. A cold gust of air bursts into the room. I curl my fingers around my head and moan. Shards of glass rotate through the air. They miss my body by inches before they disintegrate. A large window fits into the wall with a loud suction noise. Sunlight fades away, replaced by the soft glow of moonlight.

Then everything stops.

My eyes open. I blink once and slowly stand up.

The rec room is gone.

I’m facing a mirror, staring at my reflection. I don’t look the same. I look refreshed, happy, and even beautiful. My blonde hair is styled in finger waves, one side pulled up with a golden barrette. My cheeks have color and my eyes have life in them. I’m back to being Naomi.

My body is covered in a dress that clings to my body. Turning to the side, I see my entire back is exposed. Quickly, my attention goes from the dress, to the male sitting in the corner of the room.

Max.

My lips curve up and my heart races, as I watch him. He rests his ankle against his opposite knee. His expression is relaxed and the dimple on his right cheek makes him appear boyish. But his full lips curve up into a masculine smile that is anything but.

He stands to his full height and I watch as he slides his black blazer over his wide shoulders, covering up his white shirt and black suspenders. His black bow tie is undone, hanging around his neck like a black ribbon.

His hair is unruly. But he doesn’t care. That’s the thing with Max. He breaks past every single rule and takes his own road.

He adjusts the collar of his jacket as he walks up behind me. His body swallows me up. The top of my head grazes his chin.

I cherish this moment like a lifeline and I hold on for as long as I can. It never lasts long. But each time I see him, I become convinced that it will be different, that he won’t disappear on me.

I take in the strong jaw below his sharp cheekbones. His skin is free of stubble and tan from the sun. He steps closer and his fingertips brush against the bare skin of my back. I shiver.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs.

I stare at us in the mirror. He lifts a brow. His lips curl up in a lazy smile.

Pulling my hair to the side, he wraps both of his hands around my arms, encouraging me to lean against him. I go willingly and when my shoulder blades touch his chest, I practically sigh. He stares at me through the mirror and slowly leans down to kiss me on the shoulder. His teeth graze my skin. I make a noise and tilt my head further to the side.