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Haven stood by the kitchen window and gazed out into the driveway, her eyes fixated on the Mazda, the passenger side windshield buckled from Carmine’s fist. Even from where she stood she could see the streak of blood from his knuckles.
“I woke up alone.”
The gritty voice rang out behind Haven, drawing her from her thoughts. She turned to see Carmine in the doorway. “You looked peaceful,” she said. “I didn’t want to disturb you.”
She glanced at his hand, the bruising on his knuckles dark this morning.
“It’s fine,” he said, noticing the attention. He flexed his fingers to prove his point, his jaw rigid as he fought back a grimace. His hand was clearly not fine, but she didn’t argue with him.
They stared at each other in silence. There was so much that needed to be said, but Haven had no idea where to start. All of it was overwhelming. Her eyes filled with tears as she blurted out, “I’m sorry,” the same time Carmine spoke, echoing her words and distress.
He frowned. “Why are you sorry?”
“You’re hurt,” she said.
“I told you, Haven. My hand’s fine.”
“Not your hand,” she said. “You. I hurt you, and I didn’t mean to.”
“You did,” he said, “but I did the same thing. I’d be a hypocrite to blame you. I could’ve stopped this before it started, and that’s why I’m sorry.”
She turned around, his apology making her feel worse. He was trying to reassure her when he was the one who needed to be comforted. He deserved to have the burden lifted from his shoulders, but she selfishly stood in silence, unable to find the words to ease his pain.
His bare feet slapped against the cold, hard floor as he shuffled over to her, pausing at the window. “Christ, look at my car.”
“I’m sorry,” she said again.
“You have to stop apologizing,” he said, startling her as he grabbed her hips. “It happened, it was fucked up, but it’s over now. Dwelling on who hurt who isn’t gonna make the shit go away. You can’t hold grudges and expect anything to get better, because it won’t.”
“Is that what you’ve done?”
“I’ve been doing it for years, all the while wondering why my life was shitty. I’m tired of repeating the same mistakes over and over again. It’s time to accept what happened and forgive.”
She was amazed by his sudden burst of maturity when less than twelve hours before he had been volatile. It was as if he’d been completely crushed, defeated to the point that he had no will left to fight.
“Does that mean forgiving Nicholas too?”
He went rigid. “What does he have to do with this?”
“You said nothing would get better holding grudges so I figured—”
“You figured wrong. That’s different.”
“How?” she asked. “You said dwelling on stuff wouldn’t help anything. It happened, but it’s over, so it’s time to move on. Right?”
He stared at her. “He’s an asshole, Haven. He hurts everything he touches.”
“That’s the same thing he says about you. He’s wrong, and I’ve told him, but maybe you are, too.”
“I’m not.”
“Okay. I’m just saying maybe the two of you aren’t that different, and maybe if you can put everything aside, you guys can—”
“I know what you’re saying, and that’s a lot of fucking maybes. It’s not gonna happen, so there’s no point talking about it. In fact, I don’t wanna talk about him at all, ever.”
She stopped talking, his tone telling her the subject was closed. The tension in the room mounted again, and she fought the urge to apologize for irritating him.
