I can’t do this anymore.
ISAAC
“You’re a fully grown arsehole,” Shelly snaps, launching her cup at my head. I move my head an inch to the side, and it whistles past my ear ending its travels against the gym wall. I arch my eyebrow and look behind me. Remnants of tea are both splashed against the wall and pooling on the floor. Liberally scattered pieces of the Avengers mug—which was one of Shelly’s prized possessions—litter the floor. I turn back to Shelly.
“Don’t you give me that look, Isaac James. You’re being a fucking dick, and you know it. You may be my boss, and I may be getting out…” she pauses, “… thank you for that by the way.” Her tone is lighter, and I tip my lips up at her quick change, but then she morphs back into angry bitch. “Don’t you smile about this. You need to go and get the girl. She loves you, and you wounded her, and the fucking reason you did it was because you were hurt by her reaction to your truths.”
I settle back against the machine I was using, knowing Shelly isn’t even a tenth of the way through her tirade, and I’m best just to let her continue. “Maybe if you had been honest with her, trusted she could handle your truth, that she loved you enough to deal with the person you really are, accept all of you, Isaac… all of you.”
Shelly slides down the wall and hangs her head. “I have no one. I grew up with no family, nobody looking out for me. I liked one boy when I was a teenager.” She holds up her finger and whispers, “Just one, Isaac. I was only fourteen when we got together, and he looked at me like I made his world spin, the same way you look at Liv.”
With a strangled sigh Shelly drops her head against the wall. “We were seventeen and got into a car wreck, Simon died.” She levels me with her eyes. “Just like that.” With a click of her fingers, she releases a single tear.
“I’ve never been here, Shelly.”
“Been where?”
“Drowning.”
“Then kick your fucking feet and remember to breathe, Isaac… remember who you are, before you can’t anymore.” Pushing herself up from the wall, she heads toward the door.
“Shelly?” I call. She stops still but doesn’t turn around. “I hate that for you. Hate that you had that. You’ve never shown interest in anyone, not until Toby.” Her shoulders tense.
“He’ll look at you like you make his world spin. I know he would if you wanted to offer him the chance.” Her shoulders drop, and she continues, leaving the gym and heading back toward the house.
I scrub my hand down my face and start cleaning up the broken mug on the floor. At least that’s one mess I can do something about. Once I’m done, I sit with my back against the mirrored wall and pull out my phone hitting some buttons and placing it to my ear.
“Isaac?”
“Does she hate me? Just be honest, Toby.”
He takes a second and sighs heavily. “No, Isaac, she doesn’t hate you. That’s not the problem.”
“What then?” I demand.
“Shit man, she loves you, that’s the fucking problem. She loves you, and you broke her.”
I feel the emotion clawing at my throat and brush my thumb over my eye. I’m surprised when I pull it away and feel moisture. “I need to fix this. I need to speak to her.” I rush out, rising from my lingering pity party on the floor.
“You can’t,” Toby tells me, sympathy in his voice.
“What do you mean?” I shoot back.
“She’s gone.”
“What the fuck, Toby? Spit this shit out,” I growl.
“Liv and Helena went on holiday yesterday. They took off to a villa in Portugal. I’m not sure how long they’ll be gone, maybe you should wait until they get back?” he replies.
“Fuck that. Gotta go,” I instantly mutter.
I jab at my phone again.
“Control.”
“This is Kane. I need a location of Olivia McKenna and Helena Todd. They would have taken a flight out of a London airport yesterday heading to Portugal. I want an exact location sent to my phone and book me on the next flight to the nearest airport from that location. Text me the details.”
“Yes, sir.”
I cut the call and stalk through the gym and back to the house. Most of the guys are hanging around waiting for their next assignment, deciding whether to bail or stay with a new team. Shelly is sitting in the corner, eyes firmly on the TV, her face relaying that she’s pissed off. Even though there are chairs either side of her, the men have given her a wide berth and are balancing on the edge of the sofa arms just to stay away from her. I chuckle, and her eyes slice to me.
“What the fuck have you got to smile about?” she grinds out.
“I’m going to get her.”
Her eyes widen, but I ignore it as I walk to my bedroom, pack a bag, and grab my passport. I leave my team and the house behind. Checking my phone, I jump on my bike and head to the airport.
The heat in Portugal isn’t stifling like it can be in England, but that doesn’t stop my top from sticking to my chest. I hurry to find the car that was booked
