I hadn’t expected Blake to still be at the bar, but there he was. I wasn’t sure how to explain the heap of documents I now had, and I hoped I wouldn’t need to. As if sensing my thoughts, he scanned the crowd until his eyes met mine. He gave me a half-smile, waiting for me to approach before speaking. -“You still have feelings for him, don’t you?”
“That chapter’s closed,” I responded, feeling a tightness in my chest. I wanted to collapse on the ground and cry for days, but there was no time for that. “You seem like a good guy. I don’t want to make things complicated for you. If you decide not to talk to me again, I get it, and honestly, it might be for the best.”
“We can still be friends, right?” he said, exuding confidence and flashing a wide grin. “Let’s get out of here. I don’t want you shedding tears in this place.”
The moment he mentioned the word “tears,” they began streaming down uncontrollably, accompanied by a stifled sob. He wrapped an arm around me, guiding me to the exit. I felt held, comforted, but it wasn’t his embrace I yearned for.
***
“Here’s what you’ve been after,” I said, tossing the folder brimming with information onto Dave’s desk. He looked up in surprise, snatching up the documents with a mix of urgency and greed. I could almost see drool pooling at the corner of his mouth.
Without waiting for a response, I turned to leave. Jessi was waiting for me downstairs to drive me to school.
“I didn’t read a single word in that pile of papers. I didn’t want to know what Donovan was up to or where his whole scheme was headed…”
That’s what I wished I had done. But curiosity is a killer, and I felt like I was its next target.
There were three sheets with my name, my photos, and extensive details about my life, even my complaint against Shawn. However, that wasn’t what caught my attention. It was the handwritten notes next to each fact and the separate annotations on the back of every sheet.
I could tell that the handwriting next to each listed fact was Donovan’s. For every itemized statement, he seemed to challenge it.
“Dave, her uncle, is your main target. The best way to get to him is through his niece by marriage, Celina Brown (Such a kid. Thanks, boss).”
“Challenging home life: alcoholic father and schizophrenic mother (She’s truly off her rocker).”
“Temperamental; don’t try to woo her romantically (She loves a subtle hint here and there, without being too forward and me playing hard to get).”
“Doesn’t use any narcotics (She probably should, followed me into an alley during a deal in a massive dress).”
“Had a boyfriend she accused of assault; he was acquitted due to lack of evidence (She’s likely lying).”
A sinking feeling burrowed into the pit of my stomach. I remember my throat tightening, my face feeling aflame, while the rest of my body seemed to be on a different plane, each movement causing pain.
I was aware it wasn’t healthy to base my entire existence on another person, and the romantic notion of “dying for love” had always seemed exaggerated. Yet, now I began to grasp that raw emotion, the devastation that follows an unrequited love. The realization that Donovan had never been in love with me, viewing me as just some crazy, lying kid, was gut-wrenching.
These thoughts, one after the other, took root deep in my mind, piercing me. And yet, I couldn’t stop reading.
All these records painted a bleak picture, and Donovan’s scribbled remarks made them even more poignant… Until I read the back of the sheets. There, he had rewritten each detail and adjusted his comments, leaving me utterly taken aback.
“Dave’s niece, Celina Brown, is your in (I should’ve declined. How did things get this complicated?)”
“She has a fiery temper and doesn’t seem to want any friends (She’s a fun, fierce girl who stands up for what she believes in and doesn’t let anyone walk over her.)”
“She comes from a troubled family. Her dad’s an alcoholic, and her mom’s schizophrenic (She knows how to deal with people with special needs, like my own mom. She’s the sweetest, most empathetic person I’ve met in a long while. Her dad’s a jerk for not cherishing her as she deserves.)”
“Don’t try to win her over romantically (I never tried, but it’s tough not to tell her how special she is every time I see her. She’s beautiful, and I don’t know how to stay away.)”
“She doesn’t use any drugs (I’m beginning to think she might be mine.)”
“She had a boyfriend she accused of rape, but he was acquitted due to lack of evidence (I’ll do whatever it takes to ensure no one hurts her again… But I fear I might be the one to break her completely.)”
“(I’ll protect you even from myself because I love you. This lovesick masochist gave his heart to you the moment he met you.)”
Donovan always knew how to pull my strings, taking me one step forward only to push me two steps back. He could tell me he’s the worst human being alive, then confess he’s in love with me, and I’d still fall into his embrace. It’s absurd that after all he put me through and how he belittled me, I’d still want him by my side. He claims it’s for my own good, but deep down, I know we’re toxic.
I grabbed my phone, and honestly, I was looking for his number. I wanted to hear his voice, just to confirm I’m making the right decision by distancing myself from him… Because if Donovan is so sure of it, why am I not?
I was about to tap his name when an incoming call from Blake filled my screen.
And I answered.
I didn’t attempt to call Donovan again that day.