He Never Let Her Go, So I Pulled My Millions

3: 3

"Muriel needs her burn dressed."

The electronic queue number rang out, drowning the last of the words I'd forced out of myself.

Blake picked the report off the floor, gave it a careless glance, and ruffled the top of my head.

"Let me get that hopeless girl treated first. Be good and wait for me."

Wait for him. Again.

I reached out and caught his wrist just as he started to turn.

"Don't go yet. There's something I need to say to you, clearly."

He looked down at my hand, and something flickered fast in his eyes, an irritation that a heartbeat later was buried under anger.

His voice came cold and disappointed.

"Georgia! I always thought you were the most reasonable person I knew. Chasing me all the way to the hospital and making a scene over a venue, and now what else do you want?"

My fingers froze around his wrist.

The startled look he'd worn earlier, I'd been naive enough to read as him noticing how bad I looked. It turned out he only thought I was clinging, blaming me for refusing to let go.

The pain in my chest crawled out into my arms and legs, denser and denser, until it swallowed the cramping in my belly.

I slowly loosened my grip and let out a low laugh, my vision blurring until I couldn't make out his face.

"The last time you called me by my full name like that," my throat tightened, tasting of blood, "you said, Georgia, marry me."

Blake stiffened, his steps halting, some of the anger draining out of his eyes.

He sighed helplessly and reached out, out of habit, to circle my shoulders and pull me against him.

"All right, my jealous little thing. I raised my voice, I'll admit that. Stop this now, okay?"

The warm arms around me didn't ease a single ache. I gently pulled free.

"Blake, let's break up."

The words had barely left me when Muriel hurried forward and laid both hands over the back of mine.

"Georgia, I'm the clumsy one who got scalded. This is all my fault. Please don't be angry with Blake over it."

She lifted her eyes and stole a glance at him, some small tender feeling hidden underneath, her voice going softer still.

"Back then I was the one who wronged him. I couldn't hold up under the pressure, and I left when he was at his lowest. All these years, I've carried the guilt. I never imagined my promotion party would end up throwing your wedding into chaos…"

Every apology was another reminder to Blake: this old, youthful regret still weighed on her.

His face darkened at once, his brow knotting, and whatever faint, barely-there hesitation my breakup had stirred vanished in an instant.

"Don't bring up the past!"

I watched the whole clumsy performance and felt nothing but how absurd it was. I lifted my eyes and looked straight at him.

"Blake, you keep saying you want nothing to do with her, yet everything you do ties the two of you together for life!"

Confusion crossed his eyes.

"Georgia, what are you talking about? How could I possibly…"

"You couldn't? The wedding date you picked, isn't it her birthday?"

I shook Muriel's hand off and pointed straight at her face.

"You were going to have me put on a wedding dress and marry you on your ex-girlfriend's birthday! You make me sick."

Blake's throat worked, his gaze skittering away, and not one word of denial came out.

Muriel's fragile act froze on her face too, panic flashing through her eyes before she stepped forward to soothe me.

Disgust and hurt rose up together, and I couldn't hold it in another second. I shoved the fake, sickening woman away hard.

There was a scream, and Muriel went down. Clear fluid seeped slowly from the back of her hand. Her eyes reddened in an instant, and she trembled with the pain, yet she bit down on her lip and didn't make a sound.

Blake's pupils shrank, his face going white in a breath.

He raised his hand almost the same instant, and without a moment's hesitation, swung it.