Page 40 of I’m Already Gone

I leaned in slowly, giving her every chance to pull away. Still, she tightened her grip, her hand sliding up behind my neck, fingers tangling in my hair, guiding my descent with an urgency that mirrored my own.

I caught her gaze before my mouth finally claimed hers. It was a hungry kiss, deep and searching, tasting of salt and sunset and everything I loved about her.

God, I loved this woman with every fiber of my being. Every breath, every shared glance, every touch was a testament to the life we had built.

I pulled back and looked at her. My voice rough with emotion, I said, “I want to get you pregnant again.”

A soft, surprised chuckle escaped her. “Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah,” I affirmed, then leaned in to steal another quick, possessive kiss from her still-swollen lips.

“We already have two,” she teased, a grin spreading across her face. “You really want another one?”

I placed my hand on her belly, my heart swelling with love. A smile tugged at my lips as I gazed at her. “I want as many children as you are willing to give me.”

I kissed her again, a deep, lingering promise that tasted of forever, of family, and of all the beautiful, chaotic life we were still meant to build.

“Ethan?” Lily’s soft and tired voice sounds from down the hall and pulls me away from the memory. She’s wearing a baggy sweatshirt that she wore in high school, and a pair of gray leggings with fluffy socks. Her hair is tied up in a messy bun, begging to be set free. I used to love pulling the tie free and watched all that gorgeous silk cascade around her shoulders.

She doesn’t look like the happy and bubbly Lily I fell in love with all those years ago. She looks... broken and sad.

“Ethan?” she asks again.

“Sorry.” I shake my thoughts away and hold out the bag. “This is from Mom. She wanted you to have it.”

She steps close enough to take the bag and takes a step back. “Thank her for me, please.”

“No.” I shake my head, rubbing my temples. She seems taken aback by my abrupt reply. “I mean, no, she would rather hear it from you. She misses you.”

She looks down at her feet. “I miss her too,” she says almost in a whisper.

“You should call her. She really wants to hear from you,” I tell her.

She looks back up and smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Thanks.”

“Okay, well, have a good night.” I turn around to walk out before I suffocate in pain. When my hand reaches the doorknob, she calls out,

“Ethan, do you think you can keep the kids until Wednesday?”

I turn, my gaze catching hers. A brief flash of something other than sadness flickers in her silvery eyes, the kind that tells a story she’s not ready to share. It’s almost as if whatever she’s holding onto is a physical weight, causing her more stress than she can bear. She’s protecting herself, or perhaps me, from its harsh reality. Before I can form a question, she speaks again.

“Can you keep them?” she presses.

A familiar heaviness sinks into my chest. God, how I want to push, to demand answers, to tear down the wall that’s been between us since that night everything shattered. But the familiar barrier is still firmly in place, and for good reason.

All I can manage is a slow, firm nod as my chest tightens with concern. “Yeah, Lily. Of course I can keep them,” I say, trying to convey the promise that I’m here, even if she won’t let me in. “I hope you know you can always count on me.” Her eyes soften. “I know I can,” she says.

Neither of us looks away. I want to ask her what’s really going on. I want to beg her to let me carry even a fraction of whatever weight she’s holding. But I know better than to push.

“Good,” I say softly. “Have a good night, Lily.”

Her mouth curves into a smile. “Night, Ethan.”

I walk out with my heart feeling heavy, full of regret for not being the one she can come to anymore, for failing to be the safe place she once needed.

Lily

The mixer whirs to life as I hum along to “Stand by Me” playing on the radio. I watch the blade whip and swirl through the thick, fudgy brownie batter.