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Instead, he died. On a night I was supposed to be with him, stopping him from making the biggest mistake of his life, I wasn’t. And he died because of me.
I might as well have thrust the knife in and twisted it myself.
And with that, I destroyed every last strand of hope there ever could have been for my soul.
My marriage with Kelly was doomed before we even signed the marriage license. I only went through with it because she told me she was pregnant, something she later admitted she made up. I stayed with her anyway because I cared about her and loved her as much as my dead heart could love anyone. Toby’s death turned me into a cold motherfucker who merely existed, but I thought I could try for Kelly.
Nevertheless, I failed.
And she died too.
I bent my head back, trying to crack out the kink from my neck. It didn’t work. My entire body was one ball of tension strung tight. Typically, I would fuck or fight the tension out of me, and since Meech wasn’t around, fucking seemed like the only option.
It was easy.
Just prowl some bar, pick up a random woman, and fuck her into oblivion for a few meaningless hours, during which my mind would clear.
And then maybe wake up in the morning to find out she’s your fucking dead wife’s sister.
I sighed and dropped my hands. Yeah, it would be a while before I fucked a random woman again. That one-night stand with Charlotte would haunt me for a while. And in the worst way possible because I enjoyed it. In fact, it was fucking amazing sex. Charlotte was uninhibited, and her moves were untried, but there was a sweet eagerness that drove me up the wall. She tasted like pure, raw, untouched innocence.
Like a fucking aphrodisiac.
Fuck me. Charlotte was one of the sexiest women I’d ever taken to bed.
And I still felt like a pervert for thinking about her like that.
But thinking about her having a kid wasn’t even fathomable at this point, especially one she had at fifteen.
Who was the dad?
What kind of kid was she?
Plus, what kind of kid had a son?
Especially a kid who was tall and walked with wide-ass shoulders, looking overgrown for his own body.
There was something about seeing the kid and his bright blonde hair that bothered me. I couldn’t figure it out, but I just had a feeling that there was more to the kid than I was seeing.
Yeah, there was no fucking way he was Charlotte’s kid. She would have had to have him when she was about fifteen, and even if it were possible, it just didn’t seem plausible. Plus, Charlotte wasn’t the type of mother who would go out to clubs while her kid was at home waiting for her. She was the type who would have his damn picture on her phone and everywhere and mention him in the first few words of introducing herself to someone. She would talk about some arbitrary thing he did that made her proud, like the fact that he passed the fifth grade or some shit like that.
She would be a very warm, involved parent.
Maybe I didn’t know her well enough to predict these things, but something told me I wasn’t wrong.
The fact that there was no evidence of him on her Facebook, combined with her nervous voice when she spoke, told me it was a lie. The boy wasn’t her son.
So who was he?
Shit.
I rubbed my hand against my hair again. It was better to forget about it. I was so damn tired and paranoid that I was probably conjuring up assumptions from thin air.
It’s better I get to work. The faster I finished setting up my new business, the faster I could get the hell out of dodge. And hopefully, I would never see any of the Mulins again and be overwhelmed by the storm of guilt for the shit I’d done.
* * *
It rained the next day.
