by Chloe Walsh
I know telling you how it was for me doesn’t change what I did, but I was scared stiff, Derek. I was freaking terrified. Lee had just had her miscarriage . . . and then I find out you already have a child. I wasn’t thinking clearly. Fear and anger were what pushed me into making the worst decision of my life. If it makes any difference, you should know that I regret it. Every single second of every single day. I wish I’d told you . . . I needed you so much—your calm, rational thinking. I was so upset, angry and afraid. Nothing was logical in my mind at the time. I acted on impulse and I fucked my whole life up—I allowed my jealousy and insecurity to sabotage my future . . .
I was so numb afterwards. So cruel. I took my pain out on all of you. I was a complete bitch to you and Kyle . . . I purposefully bullied Lee because I was jealous of her. Of her strength. I hated myself for my weakness. I’d made a decision I wasn’t in the right frame of mind to make and I couldn’t take it back . . . I watch you with Hope, when you think no one’s paying attention, and it makes my heart squeeze so damn tight because that should have been us. It could have been us, Derek . . . You’re not the type of man who walks away from his responsibilities. You’ve never been that type of man and I’ve always known that. I should have known that. I should have believed in you.
I should have believed in myself . . . I love you. I love you. I love you. I am crazy in love with you, Derek Andrew Porter. If I could write out a whole page worth of I love yous and sorrys, I would, but the ink in this pen is running low and you knowing everything is more important because I’m running out of time.
I went home to my parents after the phone call, stayed with them before . . . The night before my procedure, I overheard my father talking on the phone. You won’t fucking believe this, babe. He was talking to Lee’s mom! I’m not joking. At first, I thought I was losing my mind, I mean the woman’s been dead with over nineteen years, but then he said something, something that triggered a memory. He called her Dee-Dee and that’s when I knew. It was her. And then the memories I never knew I had flooded me . . .
I was three and half when Mrs. Bennett disappeared, but I remember the woman. I remember my father calling her Dee-Dee . . . and I remember him kissing her. Touching Lee’s mom. Touching Lee’s mom the way he was supposed to be touching my mom. I guess I must have blocked out those images, kids are good like that—resilient—but everything came back to me the second I heard Dad say her name. I confronted Dad about it and what he told me . . . I’m still sick to my stomach thinking about what he told me. He said . . . Dad says that Lee is my sister.
She is my sister, Derek.
My flesh and blood.
All these years I had a sister, she had a family, and neither of us knew it. I lost it pretty badly with Dad. Slapped him in the face and left. I haven’t spoken to him since. I’ve been avoiding mom, too, because from what I can gather she doesn’t know about the affair—about Lee.
I stayed in a motel for three days before I came home to The Hill. I needed time to process everything I learned. I still don’t think I’m fully me again. Too much too quickly. I can’t digest it, Der. I have a sister and I have a niece. Hope . . . Hope is my flesh and blood . . . Oh my fucking god, Der, if Lee marries Kyle (which I’m fairly certain is going to happen any day now) then Kyle will be my brother-in-law! How screwed up is that?
I want to tell Lee. I know I should, but I can’t. I can’t do it to her, Derek. If she knew that she suffered all these years for no good reason, how the hell would she cope? Her mother is a coward and our father is an even bigger one. She won’t want to hear any of this, and I can’t bear to be the one to tell her. You’re the only person who knows. You’re the only person I can tell. Please don’t tell her. She will never forgive her mother. She’ll hate me. I can live with a lot of things, Derek, but Lee hating me is not one of them. It would kill me. It’s killing me now, knowing that you hate me . . .
I know I need to make this better and the only way I can think of doing that is to leave you guys alone. So I’m leaving, babe. I booked a flight to Dublin and I’m leaving tonight. On my own. There’s no more Mike. Oh god, Derek, I have so many regrets. But the one thing that you need to know is that I did not leave you for Mike. He was a poor choice, influenced by alcohol and guilt. After I did what I did, I knew I didn’t deserve you. I also knew that I couldn’t accept your son. That’s a selfish statement, but it’s the truth. She told me she was moving to Boulder, and I had to separate myself from you. From the moment she knocked on our door with your child. I couldn’t deal with it. That’s how I felt back then. I don’t feel like that anymore. I’ve realized that there’s not much I wouldn’t do–or couldn’t handle—in order to be with you . . . I used Mike as my escape. He was the easier option. At the time, I needed you to hate me, and you hating me over a lie seemed more bearable than you hating me over the truth . . .
Please look after Lee while I’m away. I have a feeling Rachel will be back. That crazy bitch needs to be locked up before she kills someone. I know that sounds weird, but I have this niggling feeling in the pit of my stomach. I’m scared for her, Der. She’s only a kid, who has a kid, who’s in love with an over-grown kid.
So there it is. My truth. I left you to protect you from me . . . from ever having to find out what I did. I’m hoping this letter gives you some semblance of peace—of closure. I’m also hoping when you read this, you’ll find it in your heart—somehow—to forgive me and use the ticket. (There’s a ticket in the envelope I know you crumpled up and dumped on the floor.) If you can’t, I understand. But I really hope you do, because I truly can’t see my future without you by my side. I just want you to be happy Derek. You deserve happiness in your life. You deserve love and kindness, and a woman who will adore you as much as I do. But if the time comes that you feel like you can love me again, or even look at me, I’ll be waiting. I’m placing the pebble you gave me into this envelope with the hope that you’ll return it to me. I’ll never stop searching the crowd for your face. Every night I go to sleep, I’ll think about you. I’ll close my eyes and smile because I’m dreaming of your green ones.
Bye baby,
I love you and I’m so sorry,
Camryn xx
PS: Could you tell Lee that I’m sorry about the photos I sent to her phone yesterday? She’ll know what you mean . . . Oh, and please tell Kyle that I know what he did to my six hundred dollar electrolysis machine. (I know you helped him break it, but I love you more than I love him, so I’m letting you off the hook.) Tell him it’s fucked and as penance for his crimes I expect their next child (because, let’s face it, he’ll probably have her knocked up by the time my flight lands) to be named after me. Boy or Girl. No exceptions.
And for future reference please, for the love of all things holy, do not use electrical items with water. I don’t care how hilarious you guys think it is to shock one another and shout ‘clear.’ It’s not funny, it’s stupid, dangerous, and one of you is going to blow the house up—or each other. Stay away from the helium balloons at Dixon’s parties (you know why) oh, and if Kyle dares you to touch the toaster with a fork, don’t and I repeat don’t do it again. You’re not a ‘pussy’ if you say no, and don’t let him goad you into doing something you know is stupid. You know how influential he can be . . . dammit, the ink’s almost dried up . . .
Love you D.
C x
“Derek, what is that? Derek, what’s wrong?”
I could hear Karen speaking to me, but the blood roaring in my veins was drowning out her voice, drowning out all logic and common sense.
I sat, frozen on my old bed, holding Cam’s letter in my hand, tracing my fingers over her handwriting. Dropping my head, I leaned forward and rested my elbows on my knees, my eyes glued to the sheet of A4 paper that held her final words. I love you . . . I was pregnant in January . . . I terminated our child . . . You’re my penguin . . . I’ll be waiting . . .
Her words floated around in my mind until I felt l
ike I was going to explode. What the hell? I couldn’t process this. She never stopped loving me? She died while still in love with me?
I glanced over at the crumpled up envelope but made no move to pick it up.
I couldn’t.
A plane-ticket. Dublin. My future. Our future. Goddammit . . .
Jordan’s face flickered in my mind and I flinched. Jesus Christ. How was I supposed to handle this? What was I supposed to do with this letter?
“Jesus Christ, Cam,” I whispered, clenching my eyes shut, still feeling the tears slide down my cheeks. “Why are you still doing this to me?”
“What about Cam?” Karen walked over to where I was sitting. Pushing my knees apart, she knelt between them, and cupped my cheeks with her hands. “Derek, talk to me,” she urged, her brown eyes full of concern.
“Did you tell her?” I managed to choke out, forcing myself not to push her away from me.
“No,” she whispered. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Suddenly her hands on my skin made me feel dirty. Her touch was making my skin crawl. ‘Liar,’ my mind hissed. Liar.
Leaning away from her touch, I straightened my spine and glared down at where she was kneeling. “Did you tell Cam?”
“W-what?” she stuttered. “Why are you bringing her . . . ?”
“Did you tell Cam I had a son before you told me?” I demanded, praying she’d tell me the truth. Give me hope that we could somehow get past this.
I needed the truth.
I deserved the truth, not another fucking liar. Jordan’s voice calling me dad made me give her one more chance to confess. To have some fucking faith in me. “Did you tell my girlfriend I fathered your child before you told me?”
“Of course not,” she replied in a nervous tone. “I didn’t know her.”
“You’re sure?” I asked, my voice deathly quiet. “You’re absolutely certain you never spoke to Camryn Frey. Ever?”
“I swear on my life I didn’t,” she told me—she looked in my fucking eyes and told me. “I promise, Derek, I’ve never spoken to her,” she vowed and my heart died in my chest.
A block of ice encased it until it was frozen, blackened, gone . . .
Pushing her roughly away, I jerked to my feet and backed away from the stranger in front of my eyes. Tossing the letter at her, I balled my hands into fists and hissed, “Read it.”
“I don’t want to . . .” she began to say, but I interrupted her, unable to listen to another word spill from her lips.
“Read the fucking letter,” I roared, my chest heaving. “Read it.”
With trembling fingers, I watched Karen unfold the letter. I kept my eyes locked on her face, watching for the moment her expression would falter–for the moment she realized I knew. It came in the form of a weak protest. “It wasn’t like that,” she protested. “I didn’t know . . .”
“I’ll ask you one more time,” I said calmly. “Did. You. Tell. Cam. About. Jordan?”
“Yes,” she admitted, her eyes filling with tears. “But I didn’t mean to . . .”
Backing up until I felt the wall behind me, I allowed myself to sink to the floor. “You lied to me,” I whispered, eyes locked on hers. “Again.”
“I didn’t mean to lie to you,” she sobbed, her voice frantic. “I just didn’t see the point of bringing up something that would tear you apart.”
Crawling over to me, she grabbed for my hand. I pulled away. “Derek, you were so fragile,” she cried. “You were so broken . . . and I . . . I didn’t want to upset your recovery.”
“Did you do it on purpose?” I asked her, not recognizing my own voice. I didn’t sound like me. My voice was blank, empty, and void of emotion. “Did you want revenge, Karen, to see me suffer? To make me hurt because you felt I deserted you? Did you want to see me bleed?”
Karen flinched, but I didn’t pull her into my arms. I didn’t try to comfort her. I didn’t care anymore. Whatever feelings I had developed for her had evaporated, not because of Cam’s revelation, that I could have handled, but because of her lies. Because she could look me in the eyes, lie to my face, and live with it. “Get out,” I whispered. “Now.”
“Derek,” she bawled. “Don’t . . . please don’t do this.”
“Get the fuck away from me,” I snarled, forcing myself to stand and move away from her. “I need you to get away from me before I say something you’re not going to want to hear.”
“I’m sorry,” she cried, clinging onto me. I stood frozen, unwilling to give her an inch. I would not give in.
Not this time.
Never again.
The only two women I’d even given my heart to hurt me—fucking damaged me—so badly that I knew I would never do this again. I would never put myself in a situation like this for as long as I lived. I would take care of my son. That I would do. I would love him, but that was it. That’s as far as I would spread myself.
“I love you,” she whispered.
“You love me. She loves me,” I tossed back at her in a mocking tone. “Everyone seems to love me today.” I shook my head in disgust. “You fucked me over, Karen,” I snarled. “She fucked me over. She took my choices, my rights away from me . . . You took three years of son’s life from me. I’m done. It’s over.”
“What about Jordy . . .”
“Don’t you dare try and use my kid as a weapon against me,” I growled. “I’ll take care of my son in every way he needs me to, but I won’t live with a liar in order to be his father.”
“So that’s it?” she demanded, wiping her eyes with the back of her hands. “You’re just giving up on us?”
I opened my mouth to answer Karen when a shrill, agonizing scream cut through my thoughts. I stepped around Karen and ran for the front door.
Driving down Thirteenth Street, with my husband’s hand on my knee, I didn’t feel the usual sickly smothering fear that used to haunt me. Instead, I felt something inside of me slip into place.
I inhaled deeply, breathing in the fresh mountainous air, reveling in the happiness inside of me. “What time did Karen and Derek say they’d be ready?” I asked, my voice sleepy from the heat of the sun hitting my face, warming more than just my skin. I had the love of my life beside me, the fruit of our love growing inside of me, and our Hope waiting for us at home. Home . . .
“About two hours ago,” Kyle murmured, his thumb drawing lazy circles on my bare knee. “I love you in this dress,” he said softly before turning his face to look at me. “Easier access.”
“Enjoy it for the next six or so months,” I said wryly. “Because I have a feeling I’m going to have to put up a wall to keep you out.”
Kyle laughed loudly. “Remember I told you I’d knock down all the walls. Even the ones you put up to keep me out.”
“True,” I agreed. “But this is the last time.”
Kyle rolled his eyes and grinned, his dimple puckering in his cheek, the expression he wore on his face called me a liar.
“I mean it, Kyle,” I argued. “I’m not your personal baby-making machine.”
“You’re my personal everything,” he scoffed before adding. “I’m glad we did this, baby.”
“Did what?” I asked.
“Had Hope so young.” Parking his car on the sidewalk in front our old house, Kyle unfastened his seatbelt, reached across the seat, and rubbed my swollen belly. His smile widened into a mega-watt smile. “When they’re raised we’ll still be young,” he paused before adding, “A gentleman’s family.” He wiggled his brow and smirked. “Who’d have thought, huh?”
“Not me,” I replied nervously as I took the scan out of my purse. “So . . . ah . . . here’s the thing . . .” I handed him the sonogram. “Cam was kind of right when she said you had powerful genes in your jeans . . . surprise.”
Kyle’s brow rose in disbelief and I fidgeted nervously with the clasp of my purse.
“No fucking way.” Kyle’s eyes w
idened to saucers, unblinking, and completely focused on my scan. His gaze flickered to my belly and back to the sonogram. “Jesus, I’m like a machine.”
“Good surprise or bad?” I held my breath while I waited for his answer.
“It’s a good surprise, baby. An awesome surprise.” He blew out a breath and held my sonogram in front of his face. “I can’t believe we’re having twins again. What are the odds . . .” his voice trailed off as he studied the small rectangular black and white print. “That’s got to be some kind of record, right?” he murmured.
“I know.” Wait, twins? I shook my head. “We’re not having twins Kyle.”
“Sorry, princess,” he said, even though remorse was obviously something he wasn’t feeling, considering the shit-eating grin he was wearing on his face. “But we most fucking definitely are having twins.” Leaning closer, he pointed to one baby and then to another. “See?” He grinned. “Twins.”
I pointed to another. “See.” I smirked. “Triplets.”
Kyle’s mouth dropped open. “Triplets?” He swallowed roughly, his eyes dropped to the scan in his hands.
“Three babies,” I said carefully, trying to gage his reaction. “That’s a lot, Kyle.”
“That’s not a lot, Lee, that’s a litter.” He swung his gaze up to meet mine and his smile widened. “And triple the pregnancy hormones. Derek was right. I am the sperminator.”
“Told you it wasn’t impossible,” he said with a smirk. “I knew it.”
“Okay,” I teased. “I’m not sure I like this smug side of you.”
“Yeah,” I teased as I unfastened my seatbelt. “Better start stocking up on body armor.”
