Pure Belleza | ✔️

(67)

It was late when I arrived back in New York. So I didn't bother Max or Amalia for a ride. Instead I sat in the back of an Uber and watched the city lights reflecting off the tinted glass window while I clutched my phone with a tight grip.

Radio silence.

It was driving me insane that Flynn was sending me straight to voice mail. The nerve that he had to assault my agent and then not even chat to me about it. Like, lord, I was having a panic attack for fucks sakes. I didn't care that he'd beaten him to a pulp and left him behind a dumpster like some dark vigilante prowling the streets to serve justice one perv at a time.

I cared that he wouldn't even call me back to tell me what he'd been thinking. He could have been arrested or hurt. Well, hurt seemed unlikely. It was Flynn and he was huge and capable of taking care of himself. But still.

Okay so I wasn't even sure what I wanted him to say to me. All I knew was that I just had him back and then he was gone again and I supposed that I deserved that. But it still sucked. I missed him so much. I hadn't even realised how much I missed him until he'd held me close to him again. How he'd pushed my hair behind my ears and encased me with his arms.

Those small actions that sound so minor have always meant the world to me. It's incredible how something as simple as his hand on my lower back can give me an array of butterflies. Or how his smile can colour the world around me. I did believe it when he told me that I wasn't a burden on him. That he was here to love me through the good and the bad. I knew that he meant it. That didn't stop me from feeling like a burden regardless.

When I arrived at the apartment, I slipped my key into the door and went inside. As fucking weird as it sounded, I could smell Flynn. He had such a distinct signature scent. It was like a clean, sporty, masculine fragrance. Fresh. I shut the door and almost ran up the short corridor before I came around the bookshelf and saw him sitting at the breakfast bar while Amalia made hot tea in her robe.

"Just in time," she slid a cup across the countertop and smiled. "It's watermelon and pear. It smells so good."

I dropped my back pack, letting it land on the carpet with a dull thud. "What the fuck cunt?"

Flynn slowly stood up while Amalia cradled her hot cup and twisted on her heel so that she was watching the light pollution outside of her kitchen window.

I was on the brink of a full on fit and I didn't give a fuck who was watching. In the back of my mind I could hear the soft reminder of someone telling me that I need to think before I speak - not a strong suit of mine - so I physically bit my tongue and wondered how long I could hold off before I exploded.

"My phone got thrown out," Flynn quickly said. He was dressed in a pair of track pants and a t shirt. There were no signs of an altercation on his hands or face. So I stood still where I was and let him continue. "I'm sorry. I dropped it last night and the screen shattered and I'd also been using it to make some calls and search some stuff so I thought it'd be best to throw it out so that there was nothing linking me to—"

"Beating the hell out of my agent?"

He pursed his lips and nodded.

I let out a long low groan and almost pulled at my hair. But it was twisted up into a knot on the top of my head, still damp from the shower I'd had just before I hopped on the flight this evening.

"Are you mad?" He came closer and stood in front of me. "I know that you didn't want me to tell anyone but I had to do something, Abby. I couldn't stop thinking about the fact that he'd touched you and I felt sick."

There must have been an obvious amount of hurt in my features because he took one final step to close the distance between us and held my face in his hands. "You don't make me sick. That's not what I meant so don't even think it. I meant that he does. What he did. He's disgusting and he needed to get his comings."