Chapter 67 Chapter 23.1
Desmond let Heaven stay with her parents, even though every part of him wanted to keep her close. The moment he dropped her off, he drove straight to a bar, needing—desperately—to drown himself in alcohol. He wanted a few minutes of numbness, a few minutes where the pain wouldn’t claw at his chest.
He slid onto a stool at the counter and immediately ordered a bottle. As soon as the glass touched the table, he filled it to the brim and downed it like water. The liquor scorched its way down his throat and settled hot in his stomach, but it didn’t burn nearly as much as the grief eating him alive.
His fingers curled tightly around the glass. His face was stone-cold, hard, dangerous, the kind of expression that could terrify anyone who dared approach. A part of him wanted to pick a fight with someone, anyone, just to release the pressure cracking his chest open. But Heaven’s face flashed in his mind, and he clenched his jaw. The last thing he wanted was to give her another reason to worry.
He poured himself another drink and tossed it back. And another. Then he gave up on the glass entirely and drank straight from the bottle. A few women across the room were already whispering, nudging one another, daring someone to approach him.
One finally did.
“Hi,” she purred, leaning closer.
Desmond turned to her with a deadly glare.
“Don’t come near me unless you want this bottle smashed over your head.”
The woman’s breath caught, and she bolted away. Her friends scrambled after her.
Desmond rested his elbows on the bar and muttered darkly under his breath, “Whoever was with Heaven at that hospital exit… you’ll pay for what you did.”
He lifted the bottle again, draining the last drops before signaling for another. The bartender handed him one without question.
The alcohol was already making the room sway, but the pain remained, sharp and merciless. No matter how much he drank, it never loosened its claws. He thought of Heaven, what she must be doing now, whether she was eating, sleeping… whether she was crying alone again.
God, he wanted to be with her. But she didn’t even want to stay in the same house anymore.
He slammed the glass down, releasing a long breath. Anger pulsed under his skin, but he didn’t even know who to blame. Himself? Fate? The hospital? He regretted letting Heaven go to that check-up alone. If he had gone with her, if he had been there, maybe none of this would have happened.
“Desmond?”
He stiffened at the voice. When he turned, Macie was standing beside him, worry etched across her face. She sat down next to him, but he didn’t even look at her.
She reached for his arm.
“Don’t touch me,” he snapped.
Macie’s hand fell to her lap, her shoulders sinking. Seeing Desmond shattered like this tore at her.
“I… I’m sorry,” she whispered.
Desmond took another long drink, ignoring her completely.
“I don’t need you.”
The words were flat, cutting. Macie felt her chest tighten. The Desmond she knew, who hated seeing her upset, who once protected her from everything, was gone. Seven months away, and somehow everything had changed.
And she blamed Heaven.
What had that woman done to twist Desmond this deeply?
“I know you’re hurting,” Macie murmured gently. “I’m here if you need someone to talk to. I’ll listen to everything you want to let out.”
Desmond lowered his head. He was trembling, quietly, helplessly. His breath hitched in soft sobs he tried desperately to contain. He didn’t want anyone seeing him like this, vulnerable and broken, but the grief was too heavy. If he didn’t cry, he felt like he would explode.
Macie reached out and rubbed slow circles on his back. Desmond didn’t shake her off. He just kept quietly sobbing, shoulders shaking as he struggled to keep himself from breaking down in front of everyone.
Minutes passed before he finally lifted his head again, eyes hazy from alcohol and tears. The room spun when he stood up. Macie quickly followed, grabbing his arm as his knees buckled.
“I’ll take you home,” she insisted. “You can’t drive. You’ll get yourself killed.”
Desmond could barely stand. Macie had to guide him step by step, struggling to hold him upright. She managed to haul him into the backseat, breathing hard from the effort. Desmond fell asleep almost instantly, unconscious from exhaustion and alcohol.
Macie stared at him, her throat tightening.
“I’m taking you back,” she whispered. “I won’t lose you to her. You’re mine, Desmond… no other woman has the right to claim you.”
Her voice dropped even softer.
“What did she do to you? What has she fed you for you to fall this hard? You nearly drowned yourself in alcohol because of her.”
She shut the door and moved to the driver’s seat, heading straight for a hotel.
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Meanwhile, Heaven sat silently by her bedroom window, staring blankly at the night sky. She didn’t know what she was searching for—comfort, hope, a sign—but all she felt was hollow. Tears streamed down her cheeks again. No matter how she tried, the ache inside her chest refused to ease.
“Daryl… you should’ve taken me with you,” she whispered brokenly. “What’s the point of my life without you? You were my strength… but you left me too. Please come back to me, baby. Please…”
Her small, strained sobs filled the dim room. Anica watched from the doorway, heart twisting helplessly.
She approached her sister slowly, sitting beside her on the edge of the bed.
“No pain can compare to losing a child,” Anica murmured gently. “But you have to fight, Heaven. You have to stay strong. Desmond is hurting too… so why did you leave him alone in that house?”
Heaven stayed silent, but her trembling gave her away. She knew Anica was right. She wasn’t the only one grieving but she had still walked away from him.
“You can stay here as long as you want,” Anica continued softly. “But please… don’t forget your husband. I’m so sorry for your loss. None of us wanted this to happen. We can’t change what’s gone… all we can do now is keep moving forward.”
She rubbed Heaven’s back gently, hoping—just hoping—to ease even a little of her sister’s pain.