Never Letting You Go

Chapter Twenty-Three

Mila

'I'm sorry. I hope that one day you can forgive me.'

I left it there and crept down the stairs, put on my coat, grabbed my purse, and stepped out of his house. I kept walking and walking until Damien's house was out of view and I was able to call a taxi to come and pick me up.

I kept in the tears and stayed strong until I reached Elijah. I didn't tell him what happened, I didn't give him an explanation. I just started sobbing. It hurt. It hurt to think about what I had just done.

I had to leave. I kept telling him that I needed to leave, now. He held me in his arms for a while as he tried to calm me down, but I couldn't calm down.

I was a thief. I stole from the only man that would ever care for me and there was no one to blame but myself.

Elijah didn't ask me any questions. He didn't push for an explanation, and I was thankful for him. I needed an escape and I needed it now before Damien wakes up and realizes I'm not there and that I stole half a million from him.

My heart shattered all over again and I clung to Elijah even tighter as I messed up his clothes with my snot and tears. Elijah called up one of his cousins that lived in San Diego.

They were gracious to let me live with them until I get up on my feet and I quicked the first flight there.

I packed my clothes, my hands still shaking, and my tears still running, and Elijah didn't speak a single word while we drove to the airport.

He held my hand, squeezing every now and then, to let me know he was still here, and I would squeeze back, letting him know I was grateful.

My flight wasn't until a few hours and Elijah waited with me the entire time. He stayed standing there as I boarded the plane, giving me one last wave and smile, and I cried as I waved back to him.

I couldn't even smile. smiling meant happiness, and I was last happy with Damien.

My tears barely stopped when I was seated on my chair and I felt bad for the couple next to me because every time they touched or held hands, I sobbed pathetically into my pillows.

It was a horrible flight for them, and I couldn't even apologize because I didn't want to speak. I didn't want to talk to anyone. I wanted to die.

Knowing what I did and how I left him made me want to die. My heart hurt, my body hurts, everything hurt, and I just wanted to be back in Damien's bed with his arms wrapped around me.

I wanted to wake him up by kissing his back and giggling when he murmured that he was ticklish there. I wanted to hear him call me baby girl and feel his lips against my skin. I wanted to be safe, and sound. I wanted my Daddy.

I thought the whole Daddy thing with Damien was a sexual play that got us both off, but with how Damien treated me, it felt more intimate.

Damien took care of me in every single way. Whether he was brushing my hair or feeding me lunch, Damien enjoyed doing it all. He didn't care about what it meant or how it looked because he cared about me.

He enjoyed the spoiling, the pampering, the cooking and feeding, and the taking care of me when I was sick or tired. Damien did it all.

He never judged me for what I liked, desired, or how I felt. He listened to me, always, without judgment. He was encouraging, always praising, and took care of me better than I took care of myself. He always made me feel seen, heard, and important.

I wonder if he woke up and noticed I was missing. I wonder if he saw my note and if he hates me now.

Did he break the laptop? Did he get so angry that he started screaming and breaking things? Was he upset? Disappointed? Or just angry that I used him and left him? Was he doubting himself?