The Confession (The Promise Series Book 7)

by Kate Benson

  “That’s not fair,” she whispers her reply, quickly swiping away another tear. “Chase, that’s not what happened. You can’t-”

  “Then why don’t you explain it? Why don’t you tell me how it’s possible to keep a secret from half of your soul, Sophie, and maybe I’ll see things your way? Because now, I don’t even see how the girl I married, the woman I vowed everything to, would even be capable of rationalizing something like that,” I cut her off, this time my emotion choking me enough to force my eyes away from her for a moment. The words surprise us both, the weight of them sitting stagnant between us before I clear my throat and speak once more. “You’re right, babe. It’s not fair, but that’s exactly what you just did.”

  “March thirty-first. April ninth. May second. July tenth. August twelfth. September seventeenth. October eighth. November twenty-third. May nineteenth. December seventh,” she grounds out, the shake in her voice making me glance back up. “Do you know what those are?” I’m about to speak, but before I can, she cuts me off. “The day we met. Our first kiss. The first time we were together. The day I realized I was in love with you. The first time you told me you loved me. The day you first proposed. The day I moved in with you. The day I said yes. The day I found out I was having your baby and our wedding day. Every fucking day that made us, Chase,” she cuts me off, tears streaming down her cheeks as she stares back at me. “I know I fucked up, okay? I get it. I know all of this is my fault and I’m so sorry. I’m sick to my fucking stomach at the thought…” she swallows hard, glancing away for a moment before her eyes come back to mine. “You can lock yourself in this office all day and be as mad as you want, but don’t treat me like I don’t love you more than I’ve ever loved anything. No matter how badly I’ve messed everything up, don’t fool yourself into thinking you’re the only person in this relationship who has been completely consumed since day one. The sky could fall tomorrow, and without hesitation, I would let you blame me, but don’t ever accuse me of not making you a fucking priority.”

  Chapter Eight

  Drake

  Between the traffic and the quaint country roads I took once I got off the highway, the day is half gone by the time I make it to Camden.

  Over the course of the last three years, I’ve been to this small town more times than I can count. However, the vast difference between this place and all the others I’ve been never fails to make me double take my surroundings. I’d thought my emotions couldn’t get much more intense, but every memory I have of this town is wrapped up in her. It makes it so much harder to not get pulled into the hopeless pit beginning to form in the center of my chest.

  I make my way around her favorite bend, the one that runs beneath a natural arch of oak tree limbs forming a canopy over one of the narrow back roads of Camden. Her dreamy expression, the way her chocolate strands would dance against the back of her seat as she closed her eyes and let her fingers taste the breeze coming through her open window seeps into my thoughts, making my chest ache.

  “I’m coming, baby. Just hold on,” I whisper inside the cab, willing her soul to somehow hear me. “I’m going to fix all of this,” I continue, still unsure if I’m sending a message out into the void or just trying to reassure myself. “I don’t know how, but I swear to God, I will.”

  I drive passed the cemetery, not stopping. That’s never been Ana’s place of solitude.

  “They’re not there. Why should I be?” she’d once said, the echo of her voice in my thoughts pulling a deep sigh from me.

  Once I approach the street her parents house is on, I slow slightly and glance over the property, but I don’t stop there, either. Maybe later, I tell myself, but it’s not why I came.

  If Analise is in Camden, there’s only one place I believe she would be.

  Ten minutes later, I pull up to the park and finally, I come to a slow stop. I can see them out across the way, the tops of the multi-colored trees doing all they can to shield their blades from me. I walk by the small playground, the swings moving slowly with the autumn breeze adding an odd feeling to my chest, but not causing me pause at all.

  I’m nearly there, the leaves crunching beneath my shoes the only sound for a moment until I come to the familiar break in the trees and the low hum finally finds me.

  “This one,” she’d whispered, her eyes filled with an awe only perfect memories can offer. “This is the best one.”

  I come to a slow stop at the table, my heart falling when I find little more than a few discarded cigarette butts at my feet. I glance around me, searching for any sign of her, calling her name out into the abyss and find it abandoned still. When my voice is hoarse and the sun is beginning to set, I move to the edge of the table, defeated, and pull myself up onto the top, resting my feet on the seat below.

  I glance out in front of me, taking in the turbines as they spin slowly, the fading sunlight ricocheting from its blades almost too bright, even from this far away.

  “How often do you come here?” I’d asked, the first time she brought me.

  “Any time I need to think,” she admitted, leaning her head against my shoulder and winding her arm into mine. “I’ve done some of my best thinking right here on this table.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Mhmm,” she nodded. “Whenever I’m scared, or just not sure what to do next, this is always the first place I come,” she sighed. “It’s my safe space. My very own little secret.”

  “Like a lair?” I’d teased.

  “Sure,” she giggled, making my smile widen.

  My God, she’s gorgeous, I’d thought to myself, not for the first time.

  Certainly not the last.

  “Well, it’s not a secret anymore,” I reminded her, savoring in the way the light hit her gray eyes, making them sparkle just so. “Where will you hide now?”

  “Nowhere,” she whispered, her fingertips tracing the edge of my jaw. “I’m not sure you could ever do anything that would make me want to hide from you, Drake Mitchell.”

  My vision goes hazy with the memory and I swallow hard.

  “Jesus, Ana,” I whisper to myself, the emotion I’ve shoved down into my chest taking over me faster than I thought possible. “Where the fuck are you?”

  Analise

  I’d hoped some time alone at the park watching my windmills would help me to clear my head the way it had so many times before, but it didn’t.

  For the first time, it only made me feel even more hopeless than I had when I arrived.

  I swipe my cheeks as I step inside the house, the dank and musty smell overtaking me for a moment before I realize I just don’t care.

  I’ve only been here once since Lucy died and even then, I didn’t stay long. This house, although filled with some of my best memories, also holds a whole lot of my hardest.

  Still, it’s home.

  The only home I’ve got left anyway.

  I check the lock on the door and am grateful for the heavy curtains still covering the front windows, shielding me from the world outside.

  The old wooden floors still creak below my feet in the same spots as I make my way through the house. Memories flood me at every turn, the bitter taste of the past more than I’m interested in acknowledging as I set the paper bag down onto the dark kitchen counter. I reach inside and pull out my supplies for the night, a wave of guilt filling me as I pull out a tall bottle of vodka inside this place.

  I swallow it.

  “This is different,” I tell myself, pushing the emotion down with the rest of it as I twist the top off and toss it onto the dusty counter. “Lucy had a child to think about. I don’t have shit.”

  I down the first long sip and cringe at the burn it sends down my throat. I stare out in front of me, taking another long draw as I allow myself to finally acknowledge the ache that’s been pounding in my chest for days… months, really, if I’m honest.

  I let my thoughts roam, the echoes of my past finally catching up with me inside the one place I said I’d never return.<
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  I think about my parents, how the light inside this house used to flow so easily over the kitchen table. How my father used to twirl my mother around the living room on New Years eve while Jack and I watched secretly from the hallway.

  I tip the bottle back once more.

  I trace the back of the couch as I recall the day we buried them. How Jack and I came home from the cemetery, both of us too young to have a clear understanding of what had just happened to us or the terrifying future ahead. How we sat on the couch and cried together, the only thing holding us in one piece being the arms of the other clinging so tightly.

  I take another sip.

  I think of the day he brought Sophie here. How I’d been so protective, yet somehow more scared than I’d ever been before. How I went into my bedroom that night and prayed she’d either be the thing he’d been searching for or she’d simply vanish altogether by morning.

  Another.

  I think of the day he asked me to watch out for her and then, the sound of her heartbreak as she collapsed in front of this door the day the officers told us he wasn’t ever coming back.

  Sip.

  I think about the days that followed, how I sat alone on that same couch, holding myself together for her, all the while wishing Jack was there to drape his arms around my shoulders again.

  Another.

  I think of the day we left this place. How I followed her in my Jeep, and we cried the whole way to Rockport, neither of us ever admitting as much to the other. How terrified I was we wouldn’t make and we’d have to come back to this place to rot until…

  Drake.

  My eyes flutter shut, tears finally slipping down my cheeks as I recall his scent, the way the linen of his shirt clung to his broad chest, how his arms felt as I gripped them beneath my trembling fingers, even that first day.

  His eyes were so blue.

  My God, I’d never seen eyes so blue.

  Yet, there they were, somehow staring into the pits of my broken soul, breathing life into the same darkness that had been consuming me for what felt like an eternity.

  Sip.

  Our first kiss, the first time we were together, the tremors of heartbreak that followed our first fight, the night he asked me to belong to him and him alone as the street lights danced across his skin. His lips against mine when I took his name. The way he held me so tightly, his palm resting against my heart as he spun me slowly on our wedding night to Coldplay. Paris.

  Another.

  Darkness. The sharp intake of air being rushed into my lungs, surges of the most beautiful lights clouding my vision, yet the only thing I wanted to see was his impossibly blue eyes as my name left his full lips in broken sobs.

  “Ana, come back. Baby, please don’t go.”

  Sip.

  “Please breathe. Please stay with me.”

  Another.

  “Your little one. It was just too much.”

  Sip.

  “What the fuck do you want from me, Ana?”

  “I want my husband back!”

  “Your husband died on a fucking bathroom floor!”

  Another.

  “It wasn’t this place that destroyed us. It was your decisions.”

  “You broke my fucking heart.”

  Sip.

  “I made a fucking decision and I’m not fucking sorry, Ana!”

  “If fate has shown us anything, it’s that we are clearly not capable of being parents right now.”

  “Windmill,” I whisper, my breaths leaving me in broken sobs as I feel myself sliding down the inside of the front door. When I finally make it to the ground, I wrap my arms around my knees, my chest wracking with sobs deep enough to steal my breath. “Windmill.”

  Chapter Nine

  Chase

  Once she’s slammed the door behind her, I set my keys and phone down on my desk and take a seat, firmly rubbing the palms of my hands over my eyes. There’s a mountain of paperwork sitting in the center of my desk, paperwork that seems even heavier today than it had when we locked up on Friday, but I can’t focus on any of it right now. Instead, I release a low breath, trying to push the hurt and anger out of my chest.

  I lean forward slightly in my chair, resting my elbows on my knees as I trace my wedding band with my fingertips.

  I shouldn’t have yelled at her. Yeah, I’m pissed, hurt, but she’s my wife, the mother of our children.

  There’s nothing she could do to justify me raising my voice like that.

  I replayed her explanation in my mind for the tenth time since I’d woken from broken sleep. I understood why she did it, why she thought this would be the best thing for us.

  This path isn’t one I’d imagined for myself, but I’m good at it. Taking over for Drake as the head of a thriving company he’d devoted his entire professional life to isn’t just a huge step forward in my career, it’s the opportunity of a lifetime.

  My wife, our children… if I play my cards right, none of them will ever want or need for anything. She negotiated my hours, granting me a set schedule that would ensure there was no possible way I’d lose a second of my time with them. What’s more is it wasn’t solely on my shoulders. Brad would head the Tampa office and Jack would take over for me as second in charge, Matt taking over as site manager. Drake would still be a bulk shareholder, stepping in as a consultant on larger projects and should anything happen to him, Ana and their children’s children would be set for life.

  Sophie had covered everything. On paper, it’s a dream come true.

  Even through the sting of betrayal, I can see that, but the fact remains.

  Her intentions were pure, valiant even, but Sophie lied to me. She went behind my back, kept secrets for weeks, sealed a fate I’m still not even sure I want.

  I can deal with a lot, especially from her, but secrets and lying?

  Those are deal breakers.

  They’re deal breakers and she’s known it since the beginning of our marriage, the beginning of us.

  I lean back in my seat, staring up at the ceiling as I swallow my frustration yet again. The smell of coffee drifting in through my door tugs at my thoughts, prompting me to glance at the door.

  I need to talk to her.

  Regardless of my anger, my disappointment, I know there’s nothing I want more than the woman standing on the other side of the wall I’m currently staring at.

  I may not know anything else right now, but I know I need her to breathe.

  I stand, pushing my pride to the side and after a moment, I force my feet to move forward, taking me to the door that will lead me to her.

  I pull it open and glance up, finding her back to me as she busies herself with something in the tall file cabinet across from her desk. When she doesn’t turn, I know she hasn’t heard me leave my office. I watch her for a moment, the gentle sniff from across the room tears at my chest.

  She’s crying.

  Swallowing the emotion the sound of her sadness never fails to fill me with, I quietly clear the distance, the need for privacy making me lock the front door on my way over.

  My fingertips brush her waist, my lips nestling into her blonde hair as I wrap my arms around her, pulling her against my chest.

  “Shh,” I whisper, winding my arms around her front, burying my lips into her neck. “Don’t cry, princess.”

  “I’m sorry,” she manages, her voice leaving her in a low sob as she struggles to regain control. She winds her fingers into mine, her free hand moving to wipe her cheeks clean. “I know I fucked up.”

  “Hush baby,” I whisper, turning her in my arms and holding her close, rubbing small circles over the small of her back to soothe her. “It’s okay,” I sigh, pressing my lips to her temple as my free hand cradles her neck, holding her against my chest. “I know you were trying to do the right thing for everyone.”

  She nods, her silent sobs still racking through her small frame as she grips my waist, my shirt bunching into her fists. We stay like that for a long time before
her breathing begins to steady, her grip on me still just as tight as I pull away slightly to face her.

  My chest clenches as I take her in, her vivid green eyes red and puffy as I gently trace beneath them with the pad of my thumb. The light from outside seeps in through the tiny slits in the closed blinds on the windows all around us, revealing the light dust of freckles splashed over the bridge of her nose.

  “I’m sorry I was a dick,” I say low, watching her shake her head as she buries her face back into my chest, nuzzling against my neck. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you.”

  “I’m sorry for everything,” she whispers, inhaling my scent. “I never should have made that kind of decision for you, kept it all a secret,” she rests her forehead against my chest, still gripping my shirt, holding me close. “I know asking forgiveness for something so unforgivable isn’t fair,” she swallows hard, clamping down on her lower lip. “But I’ve made a mess of things and I don’t know what else to do,” she admits. “All I know is I can’t bear your resentment. I know I couldn’t survive this ending us.”

  “What?” I ask, her words sending a wave of shock through me. “Sophie,” I shake my head. “No. I’m mad and knowing you felt like you had to keep something from me hurts,” I admit, stroking her waist with my thumb. “But I wouldn’t...” I sigh. “You and me, baby. Always.”

  “Always,” she breathes, gripping me tighter.

  “Look at me,” I order gently, angling her face to mine and holding her eyes for a moment before I bend to press my lips to hers. “Tell me you love me.”

  “I love you, Chase,” she says immediately, staring into me and reaching up on her toes to meet my lips again. “I love you so much. I’m so sorry.”

  Her lips crash against mine, the desperation in her kiss enough to have me kissing her back just as hard.

  “Shhh,” I whisper, holding her eyes as I wrap my arms around her waist, my lips hovering over hers. “No more secrets, princess,” I gently command her. “Not ever.”

  “No more secrets,” she shakes her head, her eyes still misty, her lips so close, they move like feathers against mine. “I promise.”