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“Fuck, Isla. I want to say she’s not capable of that, but I really don’t know anymore.” Trina has a lot to answer for, and this is information I’ll have to confront her on. She’s not what I want to focus on right now, though. There isn’t much that can be done about Trina tonight, but there is something I can do to help Isla and I get to where we need to be. “Do you want your letters?”
“Yes, they’re mine, damnit. Even if they have her shitty smell all over them now.”
“There’s a Bauer box on the floor of my closet. Have at it,” I tell her as I start to clean up the mess of our dinner. She doesn’t spare me a glance while tromping her way inside.
A long history resides in that box. I give her enough time to explore it, but not enough to deep dive in. My anxiousness gets the better of me. I need to know how she’s reacting. Does she believe the words she’s reading were genuine when I wrote them? Does she see me offering them to her as my own form of manipulation? That’s not what I mean them to be, not even a little. I only want Isla to come back to me if she comes willingly and of her own accord.
She sits cross-legged on the floor, the dim light from a single lamp barely illuminating the tear that drops from her eye to the paper in her hands.
“Isla,” I say her name like it’s a sigh of relief. A release of years of yearning. An admission of my guilt and regret. And a cry of hope. I’m done being angry at her; it serves no purpose. “Don’t be sad.”
“Do you ever wonder if there’s an afterlife? That on some plane of existence we can’t see, there are the ghosts of those that were. That the ones that died by their own hand live there in continuous torture over what they’ve done? I believe it’s possible, because that’s what life is like right now. You’re gone and it’s left a hole in my chest that festers and hurts every day, but the gun that caused it sits smoking in my clenched fist,” she reads the words that I wrote too long ago.
“They aren’t all that morose, I promise.”
She drops that one and picks up another. “I never told you this, afraid I’d scare you off when we’re still so young. Ever since our first date, I’ve fantasized about a life with you and babies. I want what your parents have. Little girls, that look like you, hanging around the arena with me. Skating or just watching. Maybe there are boys, too. I don’t know, I wouldn’t care either way. The only major difference I see is that the parental roles would be reversed. You’d be the one to scare our kids’ potential suitors with that attitude of yours. I’d be more like your mom, casually taking in their fear with amusement. The dream means more to me than the NHL, I see that now. I spent my whole life with one goal, the Stanley Cup. It doesn’t hold the same shine anymore. Nothing looks the same with you gone.”
She fingers through a few more letters.
“There was a storm tonight. Thunder but no lightning. I sat outside on my porch and let the rain shower down on me. It wasn’t cold, I hardly even felt the wetness. What I did feel was you. As if you sat there with me, holding my hand, and telling me we weren’t completely lost. I remembered the time you made me watch Jane Eyre with you and it felt like that. Like there was a string from my heart to yours. I don’t know, but it felt like I was home for a few minutes.”
I sit down behind her, wrapping myself around her as she quiets. “What are you thinking about?”
“The whole time I assumed you didn’t care. Or at least not as much as I did. There was this fixed vision of you happily living your life with her at your side. One where you never thought about me or what my life had become. It helped me convince myself that you wouldn’t care that I had kept the pregnancy and had a baby. That even if you knew about Sadie, nothing would be different. That’s not the truth though.”
“No, it’s nowhere near the truth,” I say into the nest of waves above her ear. “The fact is, I’ve been obsessed with you every day since we met. If you would have told me you were pregnant, I would have done anything I could to make things work out differently.”
Whatever that looks like, I don’t know. I like to think I would have convinced her to transfer to some school in Boston, where we’d live in some house I bought, and I’d come home every day to her, our baby girl, and my cat. Her moving her entire world for me wasn’t something I ever wanted for her, or for us. I can see now how stupid it was that I didn’t try harder for that.
“Only I didn’t have all the right conversations with you. Because I didn’t want you to want me just because I was pregnant. And I was terrified that you and Trina would try to take her away. I was so, so angry and sad. Because of that, we both suffered in our own way. That part is all on me, isn’t it? That’s my crime to pay for.”
“I’m not imparting a sentence on you.”
“Because you want a clean slate?” She tilts her head up, which lets me see the change in her. This is the first time since I’ve been back that there isn’t that gleam of hatred in her eyes.
“I do, but that’s not why. I love you, Isla. It’s as simple and as complicated as that.”
“Is a fresh start even possible for us?”
“Anything is possible, Isla. For my part, I trust that you won’t hide or run from me, again. I’m choosing to put my faith in that. You have to get to that same place on your own time, or not.” Fuck, I hope she does. Living without her isn’t something I want to do, but I will if it’s what makes her happiest, if it’s what is best for Sadie.
She blinks up at me and I imagine sparks lighting up in that brain of hers as she wonders how she can ever trust me again. If it was as easy as fucking that into her, I’d do it in a heartbeat. When she’s soft like this, languid in my arms, I miss the easy times we had. I miss the connection that was there both in bed and out. I miss falling asleep with her in my arms and waking up with her sprawled over me.
“What makes this time different?”
Everything.
That’s not what she needs to hear, though. Giving her an easy answer won’t get either of us where we need to be. For me, that’s with my family. Even if that doesn’t mean Isla and I together, I need her to trust me as a father to our daughter, as a partner, and a support system.
“The obvious answer is Sadie, but she’s not the only reason. I know what it’s like to grow up without a father, and I’ve witnessed what it’s like to have one who gives his support so generously. I’m never leaving her or being anything but the best dad to her I can be,” I tell her, dropping my forehead to hers. “I’ve had you, and I’ve lost you. The pain of that loss, the misery of being without you… I never want to feel it again. But more than that, I never again want to cause you the pain I did. I hate myself for it, Isla. There’s a sharpness in my chest whenever I think about it, and next to it, a need to be the man that you always deserved. I never want to watch a storm again and see your face in the clouds, your tears in the rain, or your thunder attempting to strike me down time and time again. I’m determined to be only a source of strength and support for you and Sadie.”
Her expression softens some, then tension lessoning minutely. My heart wants to believe it means she’s trying to take my words as truth. I don’t hold out that hope, not yet.
“Trusting you is going to be a long road, Cillian. I can admit that whatever initially attracted me to you is still there, maybe it’s a little faded from time, but it isn’t gone. There’s an easiness with you, I’m more comfortable in my own skin with you than I’ve ever been able to be with anyone else. Even Tyson.”
“Fuck that guy,” I hiss.
“What happened between you two,” she asks me with a narrowed gaze.
