🥊 Hate or Fate 💕 {Enemies to Lovers}

.8.

Elijah's eyes twitched, then, his lashes fluttered open to wince against the lights.

"What happened?" His whisper was as broken as his body.

I stood up from the unforgiving plastic chair next to Elijah's bed to push the straw of a dinky plastic cup toward him. His confounded expression receded the moment his pupils were able to focus on me.

Elijah gratefully fit his lips around the straw to take a short drink.

"You were involved in a car accident this morning," I explained while his mouth was engaged. "Both you and a woman named, Meghan Keen, suffered some pretty significant injuries."

He spat out the straw in shock to gape at me like a fish out of his bowl. Subdued panic filtered into his expression, but the drugs they had him on were probably making it difficult for him to come up with a good excuse.

"That's what I thought," I nodded solemnly.

My stomach wrenched again, but I refused to bend under the agony. He may have blindsided me, but I'd been hit with worse and survived. My frayed nerves were already cauterizing with the indignant anger scorching my insides.

Besides, Gray already confirmed my worst suspicions. He didn't speak when I faced him down on that soggy sidewalk. Instead, he gave me a strong, and uncharacteristically silent, hug. 

I don't know how and I didn't give a good goddamn why, but for a while the pain subsided, replaced with a profound sense of release. We stood out there like morons, quietly hugging and crying and freezing our butts off while the clouds overhead started to match Gray's stormy attitude.

I could feel the tender stroke of his hand lingering on my hair. I could still smell the hint of warm cinnamon mixed with salty tears and sweet tobacco on his jacket as he cradled me outside in the rain.

"It's not what you think," Elijah begged, his mouth working lazily to complete a sentence.

"Oh yeah? And what innocent activity were you two doing on a Saturday morning in your car?" I remarked indignantly. "Her paper routes?"

"It's not like that, baby!" Elijah cried, finally looking down to see himself hooked up to a bunch of tubes and wires. "Holy shit, I'm in the hospital!"

"And I'm leaving," I announced, holding back fresh tears.

"Wait, BABY!" Elijah howled at my back.

I stopped, debating whether or not to look at him. Elijah's betrayal cut deep. Deeper than he was capable of understanding at that exact moment.

He wasn't just ruining our relationship or our future (and shattering my heart in the process), he was taking away the only family I had left. The realization was like an anvil to the brainstem and I sagged against the doorframe to steady myself. 

"You can't leave me here like this," Elijah sounded scared, and not entirely sure of what just happened. "Hey! Isla! Where are you going?"

Someone was going to have to tell him (again) that we broke up, and it wasn't going to be me.

"I just wanted to make sure you were alright," I mumbled into my chest, gnawing on my lower lip to stop from sounding as weak as I felt. "Goodbye, Elijah."

I pushed past Grady, Bart, and Gray who were huddled in the hallway of the recovery unit. My rain boots squelched loudly, a reminder that I was probably going to catch a cold too.

At least Gray was getting his wish, I was out of their lives forever.

Hours later, I was sprawled out on our bed, crying my eyes out and wiping snot all over our duvet. It felt as if someone had skewered me with a smoldering poker, puncturing a hole in my heart that was collapsing in on itself.

I kept scanning my memories, searching for suspicious moments when I should have caught on. Was that the first time? If not, how many 'hiking buddies' did he have before, Meghan?

Elijah and I met at the beginning of our junior year in undergrad, and he'd made it very clear (from day one) that he wanted us to be serious.

He told me I was different, that I was the type of girl he wanted to hold on to. The way he looked at me, as though I were the most beautiful creature in any room, had me completely hoodwinked.

He'd seemed so fiercely loyal, and we were so crazy about each other, that I ignored my fear of jumping into a relationship.

Though it was hasty, our whirlwind romance had also been a lifesaving distraction.

Up until then, I'd been nearly consumed by the loss of my grandma (and my last surviving relative who actually cared about me). She had passed away seven days before the anniversary of my grandpa's death (her husband) the year before.

Let's just say, that by nineteen I knew how to plan a pretty nice funeral on a shoestring budget (including where to go for volume discounts).

Had he been around, I'm sure my dad would have told me to wait. To get to know Elijah and take my time with the messy business of love. 

He'd also probably remind me that I was at school to learn, not to study boys (like his father, my dad believed that education and hard work proved your worth in the world).

Elijah and I dated for the rest of college, and after graduation, I moved into his downtown condo. By then, the Wagner's already felt like family and his parents didn't seem to mind that I was living with their son, rent-free. It was pretty much accepted that Elijah and I were going to get married and pop out a few kids when the time was right.

Stupid me, I thought we were happy.

Blind fury, nauseating confusion, and excruciating heartache combusted inside my chest, propelling me off our bed like a jet pack.

I yanked open drawers to riffle through our things, tossing anything and everything I might need for the next couple of weeks into the biggest carry-on suitcase I owned.

One thing my dad taught me in his tragically short time on this planet is that you can get through almost anything if you have a plan.

Several T-shirts, a few blouses, and a couple of fistfuls of panties went into my bag. Next, I flung at least six bras, my favorite ratty sweats, a skirt I hadn't worn in years, and a vintage Chanel blazer into the mix.

Then, I wrapped 2 fuzzy sweaters around the only thing that mattered more than my passport, phone, or wallet, my dad's priceless collection of, Beatles LPs.

My toiletries, hairdryer, power cords, and makeup were shoved into every conceivable nook and cranny I could find in the mess of clothing and crap I was trying to remember to pack.

I think I even panic-grabbed a bikini, but I wasn't going to check until I got to the hotel room that I had yet to book.