I tried speaking to Addison a few times in the car but she gave me the silent treatment. I realized then I had seriously fucked up. When we drove back into the garage, she all but jumped out of the car and stormed off to the room. I sighed, running a hand through my hair. I got out of the car following her.
The hotel room felt suffocatingly silent as I stood in the center, still flushed from the adrenaline of mine and Christians fighting. The faint hum of the city outside seemed to mock the heavy tension within the room. Addison's face was a mosaic of pain and anger. She moved silently around the room, packing her belongings with a controlled fury.
I watched her every move, The memory of the confrontation with Christian played on a loop in my mind—a necessary but regrettable act to protect Addison.
I felt my hands tremble as she folded clothes and stuffed them into a suitcase. Her silence, more powerful than any spoken words, hung in the air like an unspoken accusation. It reminded me of something my father had once said to me "Actions taken, no matter how justified, have consequences". I sighed.
"I had to do something, Addison," I finally spoke, my voice edged with a mix of remorse and frustration. "He hit you. He hit you and you didn't tell me Addison. You didn't tell me. I got a message from Gigi and I just, I don't know. I had to do something."
Her eyes remained fixed on her task, her lips pressed into a thin line. The silent treatment continued, each second stretching longer and longer.
"I know you're angry, and you have every right to be," I continued, running a hand through my hair in frustration. "But I couldn't stand the thought of him hurting you."
She closed the suitcase with a force that seemed to punctuate her lingering resentment. She turned to face me, her eyes revealing a storm of emotions. Hurt, betrayal, and something deeper that she struggled to articulate.
"He's my father," she finally spoke, her voice barely above a whisper. "You didn't have to do that."
"I know," I admitted, my shoulders slumping. "But I couldn't just let him hurt you without knowing the consequences."
A heavy silence settled between us, the unspoken conflict hanging like a fog. Addison went to say something, but stopped herself. She walked back to the cupboard and grabbed her shoes. She walked back to me and the suitcase opening it again.
"Addison" I said my voice laced with hurt and regret. She just continued.
"You don't have anywhere to go Addison, Just please, come to bed and speak to me." I said sitting down and touching her arm. She moved it away. I felt my patience growing thin.
"Addison!" I said my voice more angrily. "Don't do this. We can work this o-" I get cut off.
I felt a pain against my arm and realize she just hit me with her slipper. I looked at her. And a tear ran down her cheek.
"He's my father, And yes we don't have the greatest relationship. But he's still my father. And you beat the shit out of him. If there was ever a chance he would accept this relationship, you just beat it out of him. If you don't want me to pack my stuff up and leave so be it, I'll leave my stuff but I'm leaving" She spoke.
"Where are you going to go?" I asked, desperation in my tone.
"Checo. I just need some space," She replied, her voice cold and distant. "I need time to figure this out." She said before turning and walking to the door. "I'll be back later, don't wait up" I heard her say, as the door closed behind her, the weight of the situation pressed heavily my shoulders. Our room, once a refuge from the outside world, now felt emptier than ever, echoing the hollowness of my actions.
I stood up and started unpacking her bag, putting everything back where it belonged, before jumping in the shower. I shaved before sitting down in bed and picking up my book. I looked at the time, it was nearing midnight. My stomach twisted my mind going to the look on Addison's face as she left.