The Fragile Line: Part Three (The Fine Line #4) Read online

  The

  Fragile

  Line

  PART three

  A Fine Line Novella

  by

  Alicia Kobishop

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2016 by Alicia Kobishop

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any form or by any means electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval systems without prior permission of the author except where permitted by law.

  Published by

  Alicia Kobishop

  PO Box 510183

  New Berlin, WI 53151

  License Notes:

  This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your online retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Book Cover by Alicia Kobishop

  Edited by Angela Barber Farley

  The Fragile Line: Part Three

  The highly-anticipated conclusion of Chloe and Matt’s story!

  (It is necessary to read The Fragile Line: Parts One and Two before starting Part Three of this invigorating, three-part, New-Adult Romance series).

  The Fragile Line: Part One

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  Chapter One

  ~Chloe~

  I walked down Matt’s staircase, leaving him behind in his bedroom, urging my body to keep pushing forward when all I wanted to do was run back to him and jump into his arms. So far, he had abided to my request: Please don’t follow me.

  The floor creaked as I entered the living room, the noise snapping me out of my conflicting thoughts, reminding me that I had yet another hurdle to cross before I could walk out of Matt’s house—and out of his life.

  My eyes landed on Logan, who sat relaxed on the couch with his ankles crossed on the coffee table, holding a car magazine while he waited for us. The creak alerted him too, and he looked up from the article he’d been reading.

  Had I not just experienced one of the worst moments of my life, I may have been a bit more nervous to talk to—or even see—Logan. Instead, I truly felt indifferent. All that mattered to me now was that I right the wrong I had done and then get the hell out of there.

  I took a deep breath, pushing back the tears that itched to burst out. I had nothing more to lose, and Logan deserved the truth.

  “Nothing happened between you and me that night,” I blurted.

  He nodded, knowing exactly which night I was referring to. His intense eyes studied me like he was genuinely trying to figure me out. I was grateful for that. Anyone else wouldn’t have given me a single ounce of a chance. Logan was the kind of person that saw the good in others, always giving the benefit of the doubt. Knowing that he was one of the good ones only made me feel even more guilty for the hurt I had caused him.

  He leaned back on the couch with his arms crossed. “What did happen?”

  “Look, I’m really sorry,” I pleaded. “For all of it. I messed up. I thought I felt something for you, but I know now that…well…it just wasn’t what I thought it was. I know it wasn’t love. And I know what I did was wrong. I was losing control, and I guess I just felt like I had to hold on to it somehow, so I used that situation…used you,” I sighed, trying to figure out how to explain it all in a way that didn’t involve me becoming a babbling idiot.

  Then I realized that there was nothing to figure out. I just needed to do what was right. Which simply meant telling him the truth.

  “You were out cold when I got to your place, totally passed out,” I continued, gaining a tiny morsel of confidence. “And you didn’t wake up until morning. All we did was sleep in the same bed and not because you wanted to. You were basically comatose…you had no choice in the matter. I’m the one who forced it. But I promise you, nothing else happened.”

  He absorbed it all for a moment before accepting it. When he did, I saw the relief in his eyes, the weight lifting off his shoulders.

  “I’m so sorry, Logan. I never meant to hurt you. I was just…selfish. And I remember what you said that morning about love and what happens when it’s real. That when it’s real, you stop being selfish. I didn’t get it before, but...” I thought of Matt and the look of devastation in his eyes when I told him, just a few moments ago, not to follow me. “I understand it now.”

  He paused, trying to find the right words. “Thank you, Chloe.”

  I shook my head, bowing it down in utter shame. “Don’t thank me. That’s the last thing I deserve.”

  I turned to leave, but he took my wrist and said, “Hey.”

  I looked back at him, confused.

  “Thank you, Chloe.”

  Chapter Two

  ~Matt~

  Just like that, Chloe was gone. I stood paralyzed in my bedroom, staring at the floor, wondering what the fuck just happened. Twenty minutes ago, we were connected on a level I had never experienced before…ever…with anyone. We were so in sync. United in every way. Before that damn doorbell rang, I was so sure I had actually made a breakthrough with her.

  She was about to admit that she loved me, or at the very least, that she was falling for me. Likewise, I would admit the same. Then we’d figure our shit out and move forward. Together.

  What I had envisioned sure as hell didn’t end with her leaving me.

  I vaguely heard some muffled talking coming from the living room downstairs. Heard Chloe’s voice. Heard Logan’s voice. But I was in too much of a state of shock to register what was being said because her confession played on repeat, a tormenting mantra in my mind.

  I’m not yours to lose.

  I never was.

  Fuck me. I only snapped out of my own thoughts when the front door slammed closed. And snapped I did. In fact, I damn near lost my shit because with the closing of that door, came the leaving of her and ending of us.

  After everything…she left us.

  Then, I saw nothing but red.

  The thing about rage is that you don’t always know it’s happening until it’s over. Not entirely anyway.

  Heat rose from my chest to my face, and my heart began to pound viciously, my teeth and fists clenching tight. Blinded with fury—because anger is a hell of a lot easier than pain—I grasped the wooden desk chair that rested beside me, raised it over my head, and smashed it to pieces on the floor, splinters flying and crashing everywhere.

  “Fuuuucccckkk!” I yelled at the ceiling, fists clenched tightly, ready to swing at something…anything. Lost in a storm of confusion and hurt, my right fist pounded the wall, striking again and again, doing more damage to my knuckles than the wall since its hard surface was made of solid oak.

  I grasped my injured fist with my other hand as I let out a frustrated growl. Damn that hurt. But not enough to take away the anguish that infiltrated my body. My soul. My goddamn bleeding heart.

  Unsatisfied with the damage that I had already done, I managed to finish off my tantrum by clearing the contents from the top of my desk onto the floor with one violent sweep of my forearm. The computer’s LED monitor ripped from its wires, sm
ashing to pieces by my feet, pens and pencils scattered, and the brass lamp landed on the floor in a series of heavy clunks.

  I took in the mess I had just made, my chest rising and falling with each volatile breath I took. As the eruption of rage gradually cooled down, the pain in my knuckles intensified, until finally, I collapsed to my knees, hanging my head in absolute defeat.

  She left us.

  All the tension in every muscle of my body transferred to my face. My eyes burned. My head felt like it was being squeezed. Heat ignited on my cheeks. Sweat dripped off my forehead. I thought I was going to lose it…thought I’d break down and cry like a little pussy…until a hand on my shoulder urged me back to reality.

  “Dude,” Logan said simply, observing the aftermath of my destruction.

  “Yeah. I know,” I replied with a huff, thankful for the diversion while giving zero fucks about the mess.

  “I’ve never seen you like this, man,” he continued, shuffling through the disaster.

  He was right. Never in my life have I ever been blinded by rage like that. But then again, I have never been in love the way I love Chloe. The outburst was just a lousy attempt at covering up the devastation. I guess the more you love someone, the higher the stakes. And when you lose what means most, you clearly become bat-shit crazy.

  “She’s gone,” I muttered, giving him the reason for my conniption, as if he didn’t already know. “For good.”

  Saying it out loud only made it worse. It only made my chest constrict tighter and my stomach twist into rigid knots.

  He reached down to pick up the lamp, brushed it off, and set it back on the desk. He chose his next words carefully, hesitating like he wanted to make sure to say the right thing.

  “She fessed up, you know,” he said.

  I sighed and lifted myself up from my knees, taking another look at the wreck I had created. “What do you mean she ‘fessed up’?”

  I walked to the window Chloe and I had stood in front of only minutes ago. There she was, on the sidewalk below, watching the family next door make snow angels on the ground in front of their house. Why was she watching them like that? Did she know them?

  A realization hit me. Fuck. I brought her here in my truck. She didn’t have a way home. She told me not to follow her, but no way in hell would I let her walk home from here in the dead of winter.

  “She admitted everything,” Logan said. “That morning, when you saw her leave my apartment. She lied, man. She admitted that nothing happened between me and her that night.”

  “Good for her,” I replied as I took my cell phone from the nightstand and opened my Uber app, lost in my own thoughts as I requested a driver.

  “Dude, that’s got to be worth something.” Logan’s voice dripped with pity. Normally, having that kind of tone directed at me would piss me off. But I was too preoccupied to give a shit.

  My eyes shifted from my phone to Chloe and back again. When my request for a ride was accepted, and I found out that the Uber driver was only four minutes away, I felt a small slice of relief.

  Chloe wouldn’t have to stay out in the cold too long.

  Looking out the window again, I kept my eyes on her, taking her in for the last time, tormented by the fact that I’d never get to run my fingers through her soft hair again. Never get to touch her smooth face. Never feel her warm skin against my chest.

  “Matt!” Logan called out a little louder this time.

  “What do you want me to say?” I retorted. “Look, I’m happy that you got some closure, I really am. But am I supposed to be proud of her? She just got done playing me.” I finally tore myself away from the window, away from her, and looked him in the eye, pointing at him. “Just like she played you.”

  He tilted his head. “You sure about that?”

  “Yeah,” I huffed out a humorless laugh. I dialed the Uber driver’s phone number and waited for him…or her…to pick up. Looking back at Logan, I finished my thought. “I’m pretty fucking sure.”

  “Hello?” a woman answered. Thank Christ. Knowing that it was a woman eased my tension slightly. Chloe had made it pretty damn clear that she didn’t want me the way I wanted her, and I had no idea if that meant she’d continue her promiscuous ways. Most likely, she would. After all, I had become exactly what I feared I’d be to her…just another number. She was done with me and probably already moving on to the next. It might damn near kill me if I witnessed her near another man anytime soon, even if it was only the Uber driver.

  “Yeah,” I replied into the phone. “This is going to sound strange, but the person you’ll be picking up didn’t request the ride, so she might not want it. She might even put up a fight about accepting it.”

  “Uh—” the woman sounded distracted. “Sorry, buddy, I’m not—”

  “However,” I cut her off knowing that once she heard my offer, she’d be happy to comply, “if you can persuade her to let you take her home, I’ll give you a fifty-dollar tip.”

  After a brief pause, she countered, “Make it seventy-five, and you’ve got a deal.”

  “The fuck?” my face contorted into confusion. “Are you serious?”

  “Hey, I’ve got bills to pay, mister,” she responded. “Take it or leave it.”

  Fuck this day.

  Fuck this driver.

  Fuck this shit.

  “Fine,” I replied through clenched teeth. “You’ll be looking for a woman with blond and pink hair. Can’t miss her. Make it happen.”

  Without pressing the end button, I whipped the phone across the room like a skipping stone, not giving a fuck where it landed.

  Logan caught it like a damn ninja, looked at the phone now in his hand as if he couldn’t even believe his own reflexes, and then raised his brows at me. “Are you done now? Or do you need to smash more shit?”

  I shrugged. I kind of wanted to smash more shit, but I had already caused enough damage. “Nah. I’m good.”

  “Are you sure? Because I bet we can find something at the shop to smash if you want to.”

  I shook my head no and stared at the mess, wondering where to even start with the clean-up.

  “You have to admit,” he continued. “That catch was pretty fucking awesome.”

  A small bit of my tension subsided as I gave him a nod. “It was alright.”

  “Alright my ass,” he laughed, displaying the phone in front of his face. “This thing had to have been flying at eighty miles per hour at least. Another time and another place, and you’d be freaking the fuck out over my kick-ass Kung Fu moves.”

  I couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle. Thank God Logan was here to keep me from immersing myself in the whys and hows of this disastrous morning.

  “I admit,” I said, “It was a nice save. Thank you for not letting me kill my phone.”

  “You’re welcome,” he responded as he tossed the phone back to me. I caught it and slipped it into my back pocket.

  A broom. I’d need a broom. I made my way down the steps, Logan following behind me.

  “What if Chloe didn’t…play you,” he said, catching me off guard. Until this morning, I had always been the one defending her. Now, it was him—the most unlikely of people—doing the defending.

  I stopped in the middle of the stairs and turned to him. “Are you fucking with me?”

  “Just hear me out.”

  “Okay,” I replied, crossing my arms and leaning my back against the wall. “Say what you need to say.”

  “Remember that night, about a week or two after you came back from Afghanistan, and we were at your brother’s place playing poker and getting shit-faced?”

  “Not really,” I replied honestly. “That was the same day that I saw Maya at the jeweler with her husband. My only mission that night was to drink myself into oblivion. I do believe I conquered that mission because the last thing I remember is taking my seventh shot of tequila.”

  “Yeah,” Logan chuckled. “Followed by your third time falling backward off your chair.”
>
  I shrugged, “I did win that hand, though, with a royal flush, Sucka.”

  “Need I remind you that you played for shit after that? Dylan and I won our money back twofold in the next few hands.”

  “Doesn’t matter. It was my first and only royal flush ever,” I bragged, tapping my pointer finger on my temple. “It’ll forever be in these memory banks as the one good thing that happened that day. And you’re wrong about winning back your cash. I specifically remember breaking even.”

  “That’s because we took pity on you. Dylan didn’t have the heart to clean you out the same day you had your heart broken and neither did I, so we gave it back after you crashed.”

  “You didn’t have to do that,” I said, irritated. Being pitied was worse than losing cash any day.

  “You would’ve done the same for me.”

  He was right. I nodded in agreement. “Tequila actually sounds pretty damn good right about now. You in?”

  “It’s, like, nine a.m.”

  “Call it a special circumstance.”

  He shrugged. “Yeah. Sure. Why not.”

  We walked down the rest of the stairs and to the kitchen. As I passed the refrigerator and remembered what Chloe and I had been doing against it just before Logan got here, my chest fiercely tightened. Knowing that I wouldn’t be able to press her against it anymore made me want her more than ever.

  I pulled a bottle of Patrón out of the top cupboard shelf along with two shot glasses.

  “What does that night have to do with anything anyway?” I asked, continuing our conversation as I poured the shots.

  Logan leaned against the counter. “Do you remember what you told us that night? About Maya and why you left her to join the Army?”

  “Yeah.” I took the two tiny glasses and handed one to Logan. “I was trying to do what was best for her. She needed a stand-up guy who could take care of her. Someone who could provide for her. And that sure as hell wasn’t me at the time. I mean, I lived in my parents’ basement for chrissake. I didn’t even have a job. Didn’t have a future. She deserved better than that, so I did the only thing I could think of to become the man she needed.”