Page 190 of It Should Have Been You

Each harsh word, each brutal blow, every cruel kick—I would take it all over again just to keep her safe. For her not to have those memories. For them not to grow up with the questions they’re going to have.

How do I explain it to them when I find it hard to breathe?

The wind gathers strength, its touch cold against my skin. I close my eyes, taking a deep, steadying breath as I tilt my head back.

I don't forgive him, not entirely, not yet. But I've battled the storm for too long, and I, too, need absolution. I need to breathe freely again.

I don't know who I'm speaking to, but I need to say it out loud.

Blindly dismissing the tears tracing their way down my cheeks, my voice trembles. “I don’t hate you anymore. I can't afford to because the energy it takes is a luxury I don't have. It robs me of moments with the beautiful children we brought into this world.” Lifting my face, I draw in a lungful of cool night air. “Thank you for letting us go.”

For the first time in what feels like forever, I draw a breath and there's no sting, no ache, no burn.

Just peace.

Standing on shaky legs, I don’t go back inside. Instead, I take the steps to next door. His lights have remained on. A silent beacon, a reminder of his presence, of his promise.

I don’t get the chance to knock before the door opens.

There’s a form of agony I’ve never seen before until now, and it’s in Logan’s eyes—a thousand silenced words.

Somehow, we already know.

We don’t need to speak.

Taking the final step toward me, he lifts me around his waist and carries me to his bed.

He doesn’t kiss me again, but his hands remain a constant on my body, grounding me, lending me strength.

Pressed against his chest, there’s a part of me that finds its way back, to mend, to something resembling whole.

It’s in his arms, a sleep free of nightmares comes to find me.

Forty-Seven

“Beth, honey, I need a very large coffee.” Eden comes traipsing into the café ten minutes before my shift ends. She pulls out a stool and slumps forward on the counter.

A burn radiates from the balls of my feet, reminding me the lunch time rush just finished, and apart from an older couple and a young family, the only other people up front are me, Molly, and Eden.

“Sure.” I smile, grateful for another distraction.

Being busy kept my mind from wandering to that kiss.

God, that kiss.

But I didn’t want to think about it. No matter how much I could still feel the firm press of his lips on mine, the scratch of his beard I thought I’d hate but didn’t and couldn’t stop thinking of somewhere else. A shiver runs down my spine like it did when his hand went there, brushing the skin where my shirt lifted.

I’ve never moaned making a coffee, but I’m close to it.

I dreaded my shift today, convinced people would see my cheeks still flushed, but now that it’s finished, I wish there was another busy spell. It’s too quiet. My thoughts love the quiet and everything in my head is overwhelming. Nothing makes sense anymore.

I peeled myself from his arms in the early hours before he woke.

Something shifted in me, in him, in us. Something in my foundation has cracked, and I need time. I need to make sense of all this before I face him again.

For now, I’ll focus on the coffee.

Eden throws her head in her hands with a groan so loud, the remaining customers spin to see where it came from.

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