Then something else. Something heavier and much darker.
Guilt.
Shame.
Disgust.
Because they aren’t tears of sadness.
They’re relief.
I’m relieved.
CHAPTER 40
collins
NOW
Johnnie shifts her gaze,her eyes meeting mine.
I just stare at her. Disbelief, confusion…a heart full of ache, one that doesn’t quite know how to carry it all.
We sit on my bed, quite similar to the way we sat this morning.
Johnnie, her legs tucked beneath her, hands twisting and wringing over and over on her lap.
And me…trying to gather my thoughts, trying to find something, anything to grasp onto that won’t come out wrong, but damn, it’s hard. Resting my head against the headboard, I squeeze my eyes shut, then open them again. Squinting at the ceiling, trying to get it to come into focus, I take a deep breath in.
“Say something. Please.” Her voice reeks of desperation, cracking around the edges.
I remain still until I reach my arm out, laying a hand on her knee, the contact, hopefully, reassuring. I’m not sure about any of my decisions at the moment.
Then, resting a fist against my forehead, I force out the only thing I can muster, the words dragging against the weight of the situation.
“You didn’t know whose it was, did you?”
She doesn’t answer. But I feel it anyway, the bed beginning to shake beneath us. It’s subtle at first, then harder. A second later, warm drops of her tears land on my hand, one after another, soaking into my skin.
I can’t look at her.
I’m not…mad.
I just…don’t know what I am.
Everything inside me feels twisted up—tight, tangled, impossible to sort through. I hate seeing her in pain. I don’t want this for her, but I think I’m a little too lost in my own grief right now to reach for her the way she needs. To offer comfort. To be steady.
She just dropped a bomb on me.
Just when I thought things couldn’t get any worse…they do.
She shifts beside me, moving her legs out from under her, pulling her knees up to her chin, folding into herself.
“Collins, I was so lost.” Her voice trembles, fragile and thin, as though it’s going to bend under its own weight. “Just thinking about where my head was back then, it’s scary enough to just want to stop. I don’t have the strength to go anywhere near that space anymore.”
I squeeze her knee, just enough to let her know I’m still here, still listening, even if I don’t have the right words.
“I was barely eighteen years old. He broke me. He stole so much, some of which I’ll never get back.”
