Page 134 of The Heart Breaker

She lets out a breath. “It’s okay,” she says, and the quiet, defeated way she says it damn near kills me.

No, it’s not. We both know it’s not.

“Only two more years, right?” she says with a little laugh that doesn’t sound real.

It could have been less. All I needed was one month to prove to the court I was stable enough, good enough to take care of Soph and get my sister out of that house for good.

One more month, and I let it all slip through my fingers for Aurora.

But even now, with Sophie here beside me, I can’t say I regret it. Maybe I blew my shot at custody, but Chase deserved to get his ass kicked then, and he deserved it now.

I look down at Sophie tucked against my side and wonder if I’d really change anything if I had the chance. If I could’ve swallowed the anger and put being smart ahead of wanting to protect Aurora.

I don’t think I would change anything about that night, though.

After a minute, she yawns, rubbing a fist against her eye.

“Alright,” I murmur, pushing her up. “You need to go back to sleep before you drool on me.”

She chuckles as she pushes herself up. I watch her shuffle back toward the bed, then glance down at my phone and tap Aurora’s story again.

“You should text her.”

I glance back at Sophie, who’s smirking at me halfway beneath the covers.

What would she say if she knew she’s still stuck with Dad because I got arrested trying to protect Aurora? Because I barely knew her back then and still couldn’t stop myself from stepping in. Because I couldn’t stand the sight of that asshole’s hands on her, and yet she still called the cops on me.

Would she still be telling me to text her?

Probably.

Sophie wouldn’t blame anyone but Dad.

I used to blame Aurora for what happened. Told myself she was a snake for turning me in, that she screwed me over. But Aurora didn’t make me hit Chase.

I did that.

That’s on me.

Not her.

I narrow my eyes. “Mind your business and get in bed.”

She laughs, the mattress dipping as she crawls back under the covers and reaches over to turn off the lamp.

I look back down at my phone, Aurora’s story still open on the screen, and my chest tightens at the sight of her face.

I open our text thread, my thumb hovering over the keyboard.

I don’t even know what the hell I would say.

I typeI miss youand stare at the words, too small and nowhere near enough. Because yeah, I miss her. Miss her so badly I can feel it deep in my bones. But that’s not the point. Missing her doesn’t fix a damn thing.

I think about her standing outside my door with tears in her eyes. I think about the way her voice shook when she asked me what was going on. I think about how badly I wanted to drag her inside and tell her I was angry and scared and drowning and taking it out on the wrong person. Instead I stood there and let her walk away thinking she meant nothing.

I delete it and start typing again, my thumbs flying across the keyboard because there’s too much I want to say.

That I didn’t mean any of it. That I’ve felt sick ever since. That I miss her so badly I can’t think straight. That I need her. That I love her.