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He’s been so consumed with anger, and he needs to let it go, but in order for him to do that, I need to be gone. The anger will stay as long as he’s looking at me every day. I’m the constant reminder of what he’s lost.
It’s selfish of me to stay, yet it’s selfish for me to go.
No matter what I do, I can’t win. But then again, I don’t deserve to win.
With a sigh, I call out for Gretchen and let her know that I’m going to bed for the night so she can leave early. She gives me a grateful smile before making sure I have everything I could possibly need at my bedside.
The moment I hear the door close behind her, I push back the blankets and find my suitcase. I finish packing a few things, grab my keys, and make my way to the garage door before thinking better of it and backtrack to the kitchen.
With tears in my eyes, I grab a piece of paper and write the only thing I can think of that he might possibly understand.
I’m sorry. I love you.
A tear drops onto the paper as I slip my rings from my finger and place them down on the note.
The emptiness consumes me, but I know it’s the right thing to do. I may never move on and heal from this, but at least Tank will have a chance.
I get in my car with tears streaming down my face while I struggle to catch a full breath. Sobs rip through me as I drive to the airport, my ribs screaming in protest with each gasping breath. It’s only a twenty-minute drive, but it feels as though it takes a lifetime, and to be honest, with my arm still casted and the rest of me still healing, I probably should have ordered an Uber.
Pulling into the long-term parking lot, I hand my keys over to the valet. He helps me grab my suitcase and gives me a sympathetic smile as he notices my red-rimmed eyes and the state of my injured body.
I thank him and head into the airport. Luckily, I only have to wait an hour before the next scheduled flight leaves for Denver.
I sit at the gate, waiting for my flight, and notice the only entertainment the airport has to offer is Tank’s game. Excellent. That’s just what I need. Another reminder of the great man I just left behind.
With nothing left to do and my curiosity piquing, I turn my gaze to the screen. As the game goes on with the Storm in the lead, as per usual, the commentators announce Tank as the new captain for the season. They start listing off his stats and achievements, which I have to admit are extremely impressive, and they far surpass those of other players.
The feeling that I’m missing out on a massive day in Tank’s career doesn’t sit well with me, and I bet he’s probably feeling it too. He has always loved it when I go to his games. He even has his little tradition of blowing me a kiss at the start of every game. I feel absolutely tormented that during his first game as captain, those traditions are missed, and it’s entirely my fault.
My flight is called, and I make my way onto the plane, struggling to hold back the tears. I take my seat and close my eyes, and a little over two hours later, the plane touches down in Denver. After wiping away a stray tear, I make my way off the plane, find my luggage, and drop down into an Uber.
Not long after, I find myself walking up the old, familiar driveway, dragging my suitcase behind me. Letting out a broken sigh, I raise my hand and gently knock on the door, waiting patiently for someone to answer it.
“Who the hell would be knocking on the door at this hour?” my dad’s stern voice comes booming from within.
“Oh, I don’t know, honey. Can you answer it? I’m in my nightgown,” replies my mother.
“What?” my father grunts. “Over my dead body. I just sat down.”
I grin to myself, hearing that familiar banter once again. I hear my mother’s groan as her feet carry her across the old wooden floorboards. “I swear, Robert. One of these days you’re going to find yourself without a woman, and you won’t know how to scratch your own ass,” she murmurs as the locks on the door slide out of place.
The door opens slowly, and standing before me is my mother. Her jaw drops, taking me in, shock sparking in her eyes before finally managing to shake it off. “Sophie?” she asks. “My God, what are you doing here?” She flies toward me and pulls me into a deep hug. The second her arms close around me, the overwhelming grief of the past few weeks comes up and consumes me as I sob into my mother’s shoulder.
