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He’s getting married.
He’s gonna be a father.
And he’s happy.
Fuck my derailed life. She took it.
No. He jumped the fucking tracks and gave my life to her.
I don’t want that life with him anymore, but why the hell does he get to be happy when he hurt me so badly?
What the fuck kind of karmic bullshit is this?
“I’m sorry, Frankie. I never meant to hurt you.”
I scoff, a laugh nearly bubbling free.He can’t be serious!“Did you reallytrynot to hurt me? Do you really, actually give a fuck how much you did?” I’m proud of the bite in my tone. I feel like such a putz for believing a word he fed me. The dreams he promised. The hope he grew and then so easily trampled on.
His head drops. “I was out of my head. It was the steroids.”
Bullshit. “You cheatedbeforethe accident.Beforethe steroids. By your own admission.” Lies. They come to him so easily. “So we’re clear. These tears aren’t for you.” I swipe angrily at my wet cheeks. “They’re for the man I loved. The promises broken. The dreams that will never come true. The babieswe’llnever have!” I stand to leave. “These tears don’t belong to you.”
My vision spins as a wave of dizziness hits me. I grip the door handle to steady myself.
“Frankie, please.”
Please?“What do you want from me?”
He comes closer. “Forgiveness… Understanding… Why can’t you be happy for me?”
“Happy for you?” I balk with disgust. “You cheated on me for years. You lied to me over and over again. You were emotionally abusive. You assaulted me, not once but twice. You have yet to apologize for any of it. The fact you could do what you did to me and actually expect me to be happy for you now…”
I open the door to step out but pause, meeting his eyes. “You haven’t asked for forgiveness. Telling me your sins isn’t the same as being remorseful. I’m not a priest. I’m the woman who was foolish enough to waste the last nine years of my life on you. I gave you all of my firsts.” My admission brings a new wave of tears. “Such a waste,” I whisper as I slip out the door, hurrying down the hall to the stairs as the world spins around me.
At the top step, he grips my arm. “I’m sorry, Frankie.” His teary eyes hold mine, and for a second, I see the boy I fell in love with. “Please forgive me.”
He’s unbelievable. He may mean it, but the fact he only apologizedafterI said he hadn’t diminishes its impact—its believability. “Maybe someday I can forgive you, Austin. Maybe even be happy for you. But that day is not today.”
I pull away, and he releases me as I hear the gruff voice I haven’t heard in nearly a week. “Angel.”
My heart jumps as if it heard its other half, as if the owner of that voice didn’t shatter what was left of its already broken pieces.
I whip around, moving away from Austin, the motion doing nothing to help my unsteadiness. Coming about, I find Gabriel standing at the bottom of the stairs. His frown morphs into concern as he takes in my face, my distress evident even from a distance.
He steps forward.
I take a step down, only in my frazzled state, I misjudge the lip of the step and stumble.
I reach for the railing, but miss.
Oh, God.
Panic races through my body as I try to right myself. It’s a lost cause.
The cry I hear can’t be Gabriel or Austin’s. It’s too high and way too panicked to be either of theirs.
It’s mine.
The minute I realize what’s happening—what’s unavoidable, as my vision distorts and my angle is hideously wrong for descending stairs in an upright position—I roll to my side, balling up as best I can and prepare for impact, praying hitting my side will do less damage than tumbling headfirst.
