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Everything this man has put me through floods me, it rushes through my veins with fiery speed and then leaves me altogether. There’s nothing left but the good times, the laughter, the promises I know he can keep, and the life we can create together.
Except alongside all of that… the other thing I can see with crystal vision is all the pain I’ve put him through, too. My stomach roils with guilt.
“You’re here,” he says, pulling me to his chest. “I thought you were mad at me.”
“Why?”
“You didn’t answer or call me back.”
“I was on a plane,” I mumble into his chest as he lifts me from my feet and carries me into his room. “I needed to see you.”
“Why,” he mimics.
“Why?” I push at him until he sets me back on my feet. I feel tears prick the corners of my eyes. “You could have died. She could have killed you!”
“I’m right here,” he says, gently, his hands reaching for me again. “I’m safe. Coach made…”
“Dad what?” He doesn’t finish his sentence, his eyes closing as he fights back whatever feeling is taking over him.
“He made sure I was safe. When she pulled the gun, your dad pushed himself in between us.” Cillian can barely get his own words out. My dad is the only one he’s ever known. Though I know it’s been hard for him to play for Dad without his personal approval, Cillian hasn’t ever complained. Regardless of how much it must have killed him inside.
His actions don’t surprise me, it’s the kind of man he is, and he’d do this for just about anyone. That doesn’t take away from what Cillian is feeling though. I can’t imagine witnessing someone ready to put their life at risk for you.
“He never stopped loving you and he protects what’s his,” I repeat my dad’s words to him.
“I wish I could say I’ve always done the same.”
“Cillian,” I start to argue, but he doesn’t let me.
“I didn’t, Isla. You were mine; Sadie was mine when she was nothing more than a nugget inside you, and I didn’t protect you. I held open the door for danger to walk right through,” he says, his fingers clenching in the fabric of my coat. He holds me at arm’s length but doesn’t let me go either.
“You were a kid; you didn’t know what you were dealing with. We’re still kids, practically.”
“I can’t afford to be that, Isla. Not anymore.” He lets go of me, turning away. “What means more than sorry? How do I express how much I regret everything I’ve done?”
“You already have.” Closing the distance, I wrap my arms around his waist and rest my head on his back. His muscles bunch with tension and the anger he’s directing at himself. “I believe you, Cill. I forgive you for it. I don’t forgive her, I never will. But I forgive you.”
“I should have fought for you. I should have been on the first flight to Seattle, fallen at your feet, and begged for forgiveness. That’s my biggest regret,” he says, still not hearing what I’m saying to him.
“Yes, you should have. But I should have fought for you, too,” I say, letting my own anger tinge my words. “I always knew there was a chance, a good chance that you didn’t hear me tell you I was pregnant. Would things be different now if I’d have called you the next day? Or the day I had my first ultrasound? Or the day Sadie was born?”
“Yes,” he says, finally turning in my arms to look at me again. “It would have changed everything.”
“Then how can you ever forgive me?”
The expression he wears tells me he never expected me to ask him this. That’s my fault, because I’ve spent so much time since he’s been back telling him that he’s to blame. Or that they are. But never me. What a load of bullshit. We’re all at fault in our own ways.
“You had your reasons,” Cillian says with more conviction than I feel.
“What? My ego, my pride?”
“Your self-preservation, Isla. The health of you and Sadie. That’s more important than anything else.”
Tilting my head, I study him with a knowing smile as I wait for him to catch up. The tightness in him slowly subsides, his shoulders fall, and chest slows.
“You’re good for my health, Cillian. You’re good for Sadie. If you can forgive me, and I can forgive you, surely, we can forgive ourselves.”
They always say two wrongs don’t make a right. What if that’s not entirely true? Maybe I wouldn’t have been able to forgive Cillian so fully if I hadn’t caused him pain, too. There’s no way to know, of course. Life dealt us a difficult situation and neither of us handled it well. But faced with the consequences of our actions, we could rail against them or accept them and make the best of it. Make better of it.
