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“The baby ... is gone. The baby didn’t make it.”
I feel like my entire body is in pain. Everything hurts. I feel it twice over because I’m causing him pain.
“You should go. I need to stay here and heal.”
“No,” he says. I hear the catch in his voice, and I have to fight back a sob. “I’ll be right here. I don’t ...”
“NO! Jaxson, you need to go. I can’t go with you. We don’t have the same dreams. Everything is different now.”
He recoils as if I’ve struck him. I never call him by his first name. Tears flow freely down my face, soaking the pillow beneath me.
“What ... what do you mean?”
His tears, they are like knives to my chest. I’m wounded because I’m wounding him.
Taking both hands, I wipe my face to clear away some of the tears then I look directly at him.
“I dare you to go and be a famous NASCAR driver.”
Death. Blow.
He stumbles back. Leaning against the wall, he shakes his head before squaring his shoulders, and walking out my hospital room door.
I feel the moment he’s gone. The wail that leaves me is even more devastating than any sound I’ve ever emitted.
It was easier to tell myself that he’d left me. If that’s the story, then I can blame someone else. Otherwise, I have to accept my part in it. I didn’t want to do that. This way, he’s the bad guy and I can direct my anger at him. Not that he ever deserved it.
I’m tearing up and not paying attention to where I’m going when I walk into someone.
“I’m so sorry,” I tell the person.
When I right myself and look up, I see green eyes. Green eyes that look happy to see me. I turn slightly to see if there’s someone behind me. when I turn back, the smile is hidden.
“Are you all right? I wasn’t paying attention,” Daire tells me.
“Neither was I. I’m so sorry. I think I got some of my ...”
“What? What is it? Is something wrong?”
I’m distracted by the item on his necklace. I don’t think I noticed this before. Around his neck is a silver chain. On that chain is a black ring with pink jewels.
It can’t be.
I know this ring. I lean in to get a closer look at it.
“Where did you get this? How do you have it?”
He looks at me as if I’ve lost my mind.
“I bought it.”
The look of incredulity on his face pisses me off.
“What do you mean? How could you have purchased one that looks almost identical to mine? My grandmother gave me that ring.”
Unbidden, tears begin to form. I’m angry that he has something even remotely close to an item I’ve treasured for so long.
“Right. She ...”
