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“Can you blame me? It’s you.”
I chuckle humorlessly. “No, I don’t think I can.”
“Listen, maybe… Fuck.” He sighs. “Can’t believe I’m saying this, but maybe I can talk to her, make her —”
“Just take care of her,” I tell him.
I want to say so much more here.
I want to say help her heal if you can. Help make it all go away for her.
Wipe her tears. Make her smile. Make her forget me.
Make her forget that she ever met me.
Just fucking make her forget…
Because I can’t do it.
I can’t be the one to heal her when I’m the trauma in her life. I can’t stitch her heart back together when I’m the thorn that has stabbed it and pierced it over and over again.
Because I’m no good for her, am I?
I mean I always knew that. But there’s one thing that I hadn’t realized before. Not until she told me two days go.
That I’m no good for myself either.
I don’t think I’ve ever been.
I always thought I could handle my anger. That my anger was mine and hence under my control. I could rein it in if I wanted to. I could curb it, tame it.
But I don’t think that’s true.
And while my anger has fucked things up before – my career, my relationship with my brothers – this is the first time that it has fucked up with something that I was born to do. This is the first time it has fucked up something that I think is my God-given job.
This is the first time I’ve hurt my family.
My one true family.
It’s something that I’ve been feeling more and more over the past few months but I’ve been afraid to even give it voice. The fact that she’s my family.
She’s the one who always stood by me. No matter what. Since day one. In fact, she stood by me even after I broke her heart and her trust. She stood up for me in front of my brothers. She stood up for me in front of her brother. She stood up for me because I’m her family too.
And instead of taking her away from her sham of a wedding when I had the chance, I saw her in that wedding dress and lost my shit. I gave in to my selfish urges and staked my claim the only way I knew how.
I got angry and jealous and selfish.
I hurt her. And those innocent babies in her belly.
I hurt them all.
Stepping back from Reed, I start to walk away.
“Where the fuck are you going?” he calls out.
“Feel like taking a walk.”
People say taking walks can be cathartic. Taking walks can make you think.
And time has come that I really, truly think about who I am.
What kind of a man I am.
And if this is the kind of a man I want to be. Who hurts his family – like my father did. Who hurts the babies that aren’t even born yet. Who hurts the girl he loves.
I love her, don’t I?
I do.
Probably from the first moment that I saw her. Which is exactly how long I’ve been abusing her and hurting her. All because of who I am.
It’s been the easiest and toughest realization of my life.
So yeah, I’m going to take a walk and figure some shit out.
I’m going to figure out how not to hurt people that I love. Because apparently, abandonment is not the only way you hurt the people around you. Sometimes staying is worse than leaving.
So I’m doing just that.
Chapter Forty-One
“Oh my God,” I breathed out on our FaceTime call the night before everything blew up. “These are so cute.”
His face appeared unsure as he looked down at the cutest onesies ever. “Yeah?”
“Duh.”
He looked up. “I still think they’re a little too big.”
Is he insane, that’s what I thought.
What was he talking about?
Because I couldn’t stop smiling at those little things. I couldn’t stop my heart, my belly, from clenching and clenching with love.
Of course, back then I hadn’t known that it was love for him.
I just thought I loved the fact that he bought those things for our babies. That while he was at an away game, that was what had been on his mind. Our babies. And so he bought them their very first gift.
Propped up on pillows, I was lounging on the bed. “Ledger, for the third time, this is the right size, okay? Babies grow up really quickly. So shut up about it already and take off your t-shirt.”
The light frown between his eyebrows cleared up and he shot me a look from across the screen. “Take off my t-shirt.”
“Yes.” I nodded. “And put those on your chest. I want to see.”
“See what?”
“How they look.” I bit my lip, pressing my thighs together, imagining what our babies would look like resting on his corded chest.
