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As the warm water cascades over us, washing away the blood from her, I hold her in my arms, slowly rocking her as she cries.
“Why does it hurt so much? It shouldn’t hurt so much.”
“I wish I had an answer, doll.”
And if I hadn’t hated myself up to this point, I do now.
CHAPTERTWENTY-ONE
JADE
The early morning sun is peeking through the window as I’m startled awake. My eyes are all puffy from crying, and it takes me a while to realize I’m in my bed, the memories of yesterday flashing in my head.
Going to my doctor to get the abortion pills, pushing Prescott away and the pain. So much pain. I’m not even sure which one was worse: the physical pain or the emotional one. It was all one big blur.
The moment I felt it, I went back to my bedroom and curled into myself. I didn’t want to talk with anybody, and for once, the girls actually listened.
But then he was back. For a split second, I could see the anger flash on his face. I deserved it. I gave him a broken promise. I never planned to call him because I couldn’t take his love. Because that’s what it was. Love. Prescott might have never said the words, but I saw it. I felt it. I didn’t deserve it.
After the shower, he helped me dry up and put on some clothes before we slipped into bed together, where he held me all night long. We didn’t say a word. What was really there to say?
Now, I watch the muscles of his back move as he pulls his pants over his hips.
Prescott turns around, his hollow eyes meeting mine.
This.
This is what I’ve done to him.
Seriously, how selfish can I be?
I should let him go.
I should let him return to his life.
To be happy.
To live.
“How are you feeling?” he asks, sitting down on the bed and gently smoothing my hair away.
“Sore,” I whisper, my throat raspy from unuse.
He slides his hand over my forehead and cheeks as if he’s testing me for a temperature. “Any more cramping?”
“Are you going all doctor on me, Wentworth?” He gives me a pointed glare, making me sigh. “A little bit, but nothing like yesterday.”
That anger that’s been simmering under the surface flashes on his face for a split second before he pushes it back.
“Good.” He brushes his lips over the top of my head. “You should rest. It’s still early.”
“Where are you going?” The question slips out of my mouth before I can stop it, and I don’t miss the neediness in my tone. So much for letting him go.
“I have to go home and grab my things. The bus is leaving in less than an hour for our game.”
The away game.
Shit.
