Page 11 of Worth of Waste

Because she believed, no matter what, she’d love him, too.

“I’m sorry,” Dino mouthed. “I’ll see you soon.”

That was it.

That was all he said.

Dino was gone before Karen could even think about what she wanted to do or say next. All she saw was his back as he disappeared beyond the barrier, and he didn’t even look back at her that time.

She fell into the hard chair with a thump, suddenly feeling so unsteady and unsure.

Had she made a mistake?

Was she wrong for wanting that man?

I’ll see you soon.

His words rang through her mind like a clanging bell, over and over again. It left her feeling more unsure than ever, like her world had suddenly been put on pause because he wasn’t kind enough to tell her this was the end.

Instead, he’d put them on hold.

Dino didn’t seem to understand that it couldn’t work that way for Karen. While he was locked away and unable to explain himself to her, the world wouldn’t stop for her while she waited for him to get out.

Her world still turned.

She was still pregnant.

She had to keep moving forward so that she could do what she needed to do in order to care for his child. She wouldn’t keep putting herself through hell emotionally, on the off chance that Dino might give something more to her than a look that made her heart clench and words that only cut her deeper.

She wouldn’t be coming back to the prison at all after today. She had given him the chance to tell her who he was and what he needed or wanted from her, and he hadn’t even tried to provide her with those things.

Dino cared.

He loved her.

Karen knew those things without a doubt.

The problem was, love couldn’t always be enough and no matter what people tried to say, it couldn’t be unconditional. Love without barriers meant no one thought about the other side of the equation—they didn’t take into account how their behavior or actions might hurt someone else.

It was selfish to love that way.

It was unhealthy.

Yet, a small part of her still didn’t care.

I’ll see you soon.

Maybe by the time he was ready—by the time he could give her what she needed—Karen wouldn’t need or want it anymore. The part of her that he owned could be put on the shelf for a time while she waited on him, but the rest of her was still going to have to keep moving.

She was worried the rest of her would eventually take the waiting part with it, too.

That probably scared her the most.

Karen

IT had taken Karen a long time—long enough that a guard had come to tell her she needed to leave so the next visitor could come in—for her to stand up and ready to leave the prison. The heaviness in her heart wouldn’t leave, no matter what she did.

It was a long drive home from the prison to her apartment in upper Chicago, and she wasn’t exactly looking forward to the silence. When she was alone, her second thoughts and misdeeds were far more apparent, and since she didn’t have anyone else to talk to, she was left with talking to her damn self.