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“I’m sorry I wasn’t a better wife.”
Fucking hell. The words cut goddamn deep. She’d never fucking see it, but she was the best. She was everything. Being her husband was a fucking honor—one I’d taken advantage of.
She didn’t belong in Vegas with Gabby. She belonged here. With me. In our home.
And so I ran.
I ran faster than I ever had in my life to catch her.
My heart pounded like a madman in my chest. My lungs burned with every frigid breath. Every fucking minute counted. I needed to catch her before she made it to Main. If she made it to Main and out of town, there was no fucking way I’d catch her. The neighborhood crossroads was where I had to cut her off.
But when I got there, it was empty. I turned in a slow circle in the middle of the crossroads. Only darkness greeted me from every direction.
She should’ve been here. So, where the fuck was she?
Had I missed her?
“Give me some kind of fucking sign!” I shouted in anger to the sky as if God or the universe or someone would fucking hear me and help. “You can’t fucking tell me it was all for nothing! Haven’t we been through enough? We deserved better than this!”
“Did you see Hamilton is closed, dear?” Esther? I turned, blinking rapidly against the rain. Sure enough, my batty fucking ladies stood there in their goddamn tracksuits with a fucking umbrella over their heads as if completely unfazed by the weather.
“What the fuck are you doing out here?” I demanded.
“Our car got stuck in the mud puddle on Hamiton,” Vera told me.
“We really should’ve gone down Grace instead,” Esther agreed.
“They never fixed Hamilton?” I asked. Hamilton was the town’s notoriously fucked up street. Every time it fucking rained, the whole street had to shut down because it was nothing but a watery death trap. Hamilton was also the main road leading to Mom’s house, which meant…
I took off.
Genevieve would’ve never driven down Hamilton in the rain—especially in a downpour like this. She would’ve taken the long way around, which would’ve added at least an extra five minutes.
Maybe, just maybe…
I saw her car roll to a stop two streets down. Fuck, fuck, fuck. I pushed myself harder, fucking desperate to get to her. For whatever reason, she sat there. I didn’t have a fucking clue as to why, but I wasn’t complaining.
Just as she started rolling forward, I slid through the mud in front of her car and slammed my hands to the hood. She squealed, and the car jerked as she stomped on the brake.
“Killian?” Those pretty eyes widened as she stared at me, completely bewildered. Yeah, she wasn’t expecting me to chase her. I didn’t blame her. I’d betrayed that trust a long time ago.
“Why are you leaving?” I asked, my chest heaving as I caught my breath. She said nothing, but I knew she could hear me. “What made you do it?”
There were better questions to fucking ask—better things to fucking say—but it was the first thing to pop into my goddamn head. I wanted to know why. Why now? What changed?
“I just…” Her voice trailed off, and her mouth opened as if words failed her. I waited with bated breath, straining to hear whatever she had to say. I didn’t want to miss a word of it.
Instead, she opened the car and stood, clinging to the door.
“Why are you leaving, Genevieve?” I tried once more.
“I told them the truth,” she whispered. My fucking soul left my body in shock. She’d told them? Of all the things she could’ve said, that wasn’t one I ever expected to hear.
“Do you mean it? That you’re leaving?” I knew her. If she told them the truth, she was running. Running from her father. Running from the shame. Running from all of it.
“I told them the truth…” Genevieve repeated softly. Tears rolled down her cheeks with the rain. “I can’t do this anymore… I can’t… I’m so tired of hurting. I want my son back.”
The fact that one sentence could hurt so fucking much. Her pain bled through my very soul.
