*This chapter contains sensitive content* 

Chapter 22

Mary's drained face replayed like a skipping record in his mind after a few days of work demanded his attention. He tapped his finger on his desk and shook his knee. The calendar on his screen appeared a colorful smear as his focus blurred concentrating on harsh memories.

He was careless, he thought. Of course, she would find out about that ceremony, but it didn't cross his mind when he was so desperate to trace his knuckles along her jaw and feel the sweat behind her knees again. Good god, she was a creator of a world he didn't know could be his. Finally, there was more to life than proving he was a winner. He didn't drive and conquer with familial blindness he tried to escape at the same time. She saw him. From her, he couldn't hide the one thing his father told him to camouflage from the world– his anguish.

He was a renowned winner in charge of hundred-million-dollar agreements. If Nathan put his mind to something, he could have it. And finally, he had been celebrated for his achievements. But it wasn't until Mary that he realized the satisfaction he searched for was never in the long game of resistance he played with Rafal Burke.

He dreaded being so far from her, but he hoped the distance would open a window of forgiveness, yet days had passed since he broke her heart again. Mary refused his efforts to talk. She had cautioned him of how she managed heartbreak. Nevertheless, he had to defy her. The separation felt strange as he had a habit of purposely taking himself as far as possible from a loved one's wrath. But she wasn't someone he wanted to be away from, not when she filled every blank space in his mind.

"Mary, please talk to me," He texted on the third day from his office. The distance worked in her favor, not his. If he wanted her all he had to do was dream and recall the visions of her bare body or lustful eyes asking for more. But that wasn't enough as that wasn't all she was. He was riddled with her spirit, it felt impossible to imagine bleeding her from his system. When the evening arrived, he sped home. Belle always warned him about driving when he was highly strung. But putting himself behind the wheel gave him some semblance of control when he had none.

He stalked from the garage and in the empty kitchen. As luck would have it, she wasn't in the outdoor living or the guest house when he knocked frantically. He checked the house calendar and Mary hadn't marked any time off so he resorted to calling Belle. Even then, he received no answer. Panic widened his eyes. Charging back into the house with his phone to his ear, he sprinted inside and up the stair hall into the east wing. Just then, he received a text.

The new medication puts her to sleep.

He released a long exhale and advanced confidently down the hall. Gently he approached the room with the clogs and canvas shoes resting outside the door. He peeked inside. His sweetheart's attention was already his from the seater beside Belle's vanity while the matron was fast asleep in her bed. He began removing his shoes but Mary left her place and stepped into the hall.

"Hi," he said anxiously. He followed her face, as her attention favored the walls.

His voice whispered deep into her ear, "Please, I haven't talked to you in so long. I can't take it."

She pulled her shoulders together, glimpsing at him. It was easier to ignore him when he was away. But it wasn't as though his texts didn't emotionally drain her. In fact, every incoming ring or vibration kept her on edge and shaken.

Mary gave in. She bent her head, hesitating to sign nervously, "What?"

He opened his mouth but was interrupted by the ringing in his pocket. Without taking out his phone, he pressed a button to temporarily silence the ring and returned to maintain her eyes. "I need to explain my relationship with Karina."

She was unable to hide her sigh of despair before instinctively rubbing the nape of her neck. He took a step closer when she wrapped her arms around herself.

"I didn't lie to you about cutting things–" a ring cut him short again. He grimaced, yanking his phone from his pocket to turn it off when his face widened immediately. His eyes welled with remorse, but Mary goggled back and gestured to answer quickly.

He mouthed an apology before answering the call cautiously.

"Trish?" Nathan raised his brows inquiringly before he paled. This was bad, she realized. He brushed past her out of the hall and onto the central balcony.

"Where are you?...You have to go home! Right now!...Whoa, whoa, don't do that! Don't go there, come to my house!... I'm going to order you a ride, okay?... No, you're coming to my house first. How does that sound? You just have to tell me where you are."

She shuddered at his echoing distress. He hung up and swiped quickly on his phone. She met him and he paused suddenly to regard her raised hands in question. "You can't be involved in this. I need you to go to the guest house."

She shook her head defiantly with a creased forehead.

He lowered his eyes. "Now, Mary!"

She flinched, and regret struck him for a moment. His throat moved up and down before he attempted to pass her. But she held him back clinging to his arm. She closed her eyes tightly until she felt his hand over hers.

"I can't let you see her. She's an alcoholic," he said gravely.

She stepped back. He hated that he couldn't feel her anymore and begged her to retreat again. Still, she didn't want to go, shivering in terror.

"Why?" He asked.

Mary's glistening eyes danced around before he saw her fists clench. His expression dulled, this was no time to fight his instinct to protect her. Turning her shoulders, he shuttled her to his bedroom into the master bathroom. He pointed at the ground and demanded she stay put. He answered an incoming call. From the context clues and high volume, the driver had Trish and was on his way. Nathan warned her again and left her alone. From his bedroom, she heard his raised voice while on another call. He rowed with Chaz, desperately seeking answers regarding the woman whose call struck him with fear.

Mary turned on her music and put her head down on the vanity. Focusing on her breathing, time slowed down with the soothing interplays of familiar tones and rhythms. The music dipped when a text from her sister came in. Of course, she thought. It was hard not to believe in telepathy when most times Nellie checked in the moment she needed support. Would she lie again or tell the truth? How did her sister do it? How did she overcome the trauma of their childhood? Mary tightened her lip, deleting her message and pausing the music.

She plodded from the bathroom out the suite door. At the central balcony, Mary froze and closed her eyes. The shouting instantly terrorized her with memories, as she heard Nathan's efforts against Trish's drunken refusals. Wiping the wetness collecting around her jaw, she took a stabilizing breath before descending the stairs.

At the bottom, she inched into the view of the open door. A frail woman sat still on the middle steps. Nathan knelt before her speaking softly until his eye caught Mary lurking.

"Go!" He sprang to his feet. Mary neglected him while mystified by the bony shoulders partially covered by messy blonde hair halfway out of a bun.

Now she could see the woman's distant brown eyes surrounded in pinkish-red. Trish finally sensed a new presence. She put on her sunglasses from her clutch, faced ahead, and crossed her arms. In a low voice, she sped through her words. "I don't know who you are and I don't want to talk to you."

Nathan blocked Mary's view. "What are you doing? You're shaking."

If he wanted her to go, he shouldn't have caressed her chin before running his palms down the sides of her arms and grabbing her hands. Finding a sense of control her eye shifted toward Trish before looking at him again. He answered, "I'm going to have her stay here tonight."

"I don't need your help, Nathan!" The inebriated shouted before her clutch struck his back.

Without hesitation, Mary shoved him to the side and wrangled Trish by the wrists. She sneered a cracked whisper, "No."

She dipped her nose looking above her opaque shades and slipped from her grip. Her head snapped upward as she protested, "I don't know what you're all panicking about, I'm completely sober."

Mary jumped back. Like clockwork for any drunken rambler, there was projectile vomit all over the steps. It was all liquid.

"See?" Trish coughed. "I'm fine."

"Trish, we're going inside," Nathan insisted.

Trish looked down in her lap and She returned a little helpless shrug. "I'm disgusting, right? That's why you won't let me go to his house."

Mary shook her head, but Trish's tears unfurled before she erupted into tears. Nathan swept her up and sped indoors and climbed the stairs into the west wing.

She felt chills all over her body Pulling her wrists above her head. Her head felt clouded but she detected rushed but faded footsteps approaching. Nathan returned and lowered himself to her.

She didn't look at him and held her heart. Suddenly, she stumbled for the closest patch of grass, fell to her knees, and puked.

Alarmed, he hooked his arms and wrapped them around her shoulder. Be begged for her attention. Mary unraveled into tears. He pulled her tight into his lap and she wept. Nathan shook, pained by her tears pleading for her to hear him. She gasped in audible short breaths and held his arm tight.

"Squeeze me as tight as you can," he whispered in coaching. "Come back to me.