That was the real problem here.
“Then I fail to see how we can move past this.” I needed her to be alive, but she didn’t need me. Not anymore. “I will never be done loving you, damn it. Not even if you’re with someone else, but I can’t keep fighting the past. I can’t keep letting you down.”
She closed her eyes, not even bothering to wipe away the tears streaming down her cheeks anymore. “It’s best if you go. We need to stop doing this. Need to stop torturing each other. This can’t be love. Not really.”
“Agreed,” I said, my voice cracking. “I love you, and I always will. Nothing you say or do will ever change that, and the fact that you don’t know that is the number-one reason we’ll never work. Correction: why we never worked.”
She bit her lip. “That’s not true. Don’t take that from us. We were happy once.”
“Yeah. Before…”
Hell, I didn’t even know anymore. When had we stopped being happy?
“Since before Susan. Say it.” She tossed her hair behind her back, her blue eyes shining with tears and so much pain that it hurt me to look at her. “You were on the fence in the first place, but now? You regret it. You regret her.”
The fact that she believed that hurt. It really fucking hurt.
“No,” I said, my voice hoarse. “I’d never regret one second of that baby girl, and I never will. What I regret is letting you forget how much you mean to me. I regret giving you a reason not to trust me. And I regret that you no longer love me. But I don’t regret her, or you, or us. Never that.”
She stared at me as if she didn’t believe a word I said.
I didn’t blame her.
History was repeating itself, and I couldn’t fucking stop it. Nothing would. We were dying, and no one could save us. The best thing I could do for her would be to walk away again. It was all I was good at anymore. All I was ever good at.
And I needed to remember that.
Carrie
I watched him closely, wishing I could believe that he hadn’t had a drink out there, but I was all out of blind faith today. I’d trusted and hoped and loved, and what had it gotten me? Lies. All lies. That’s all he’d ever given me, it seemed.
God, I was so tired of trying to uncover the truth. So tired of wondering when he’d ever be honest with me. Was this really what was best for our children?
Us never really believing one another?
Shaking my head, I pressed my hands to my stomach. “It’s not too late. You can still get help,” I said, refusing to give up on him. Even if we weren’t together, even if he left me, he had to be okay. I had to know he was okay. “Please, Finn. Think of Susan.”
He shook his head; his eyes filled with unshed tears. “Don’t do that. Don’t use her against me. That’s not fair.”
“She needs you, Finn. She needs her father in her life.” I took a step toward him, stumbling a little. “Don’t you want to walk her down the aisle? Teach her how to love? How to have fun? How to trust?”
“Stop,” Finn said, his face going red. His fingers quivered as he tugged on his hair. “I can’t do this. Not anymore. I can’t do this.”
He kept repeating those words, over and over again. Trembling, he covered his face and turned from me. It broke my heart to see him like this. I wanted to help him so badly, but all I kept doing was making it worse. He had to do this for himself. Not for me.
I took a step toward him. “I’m sorry. Sorry I yelled. Let me—”
I pressed a hand to my stomach. I felt like…like…
Crap. I was going to be sick.
I ran for the bathroom, one hand to my stomach and the other pressed to my mouth. As soon as I hit the floor on my knees, my stomach violently expelled what little food I had in it. Finn came up behind me, close but not too close. I knew that he got sick when he was around other people who were sick, so I was surprised he’d followed me at all. He hovered behind me, cursed, and squatted next to me.
Gently, he swooped my hair off my face and held it in his fist. “Shit, Carrie. Are you okay?”
I nodded, gripping the edges of the toilet so hard it hurt, but I didn’t speak.
“Are you done?”
Again, I nodded.
He swept my hair away from the danger zone and braided it. I swallowed, memories hitting me hard and fast. He’d learned how to braid when I’d been pregnant with Susan. He used to brush it for me before braiding it, claiming he needed the practice before his princess came along.
It had soothed me back then. The effect was quite opposite this time. This time, it made me want to cry. After he grabbed a ponytail holder off the sink and secured the braid, he tenderly rested the braid against my back.
“I’ll get you a washcloth.”
I didn’t nod or move this time. I was too busy listening to the thudding of my heart. I hadn’t puked since the first trimester with Susan. And before that, it had been years. All the way back when I’d been in college, and Finn and I had been fighting. He’d nursed me back to health back then.
He was doing it again now.
Would he start asking questions? Would he put two and two together and realize why I’d been so emotional lately? I was so terrified that in the face of all our fighting and heartbreak, that the news would make him break even more.
He came back, his eyes locked on me. He bent down beside me again, peeled me off the toilet, and closed the lid. With a flick of his hand, it flushed. Slowly, he wiped the washcloth over my forehead, cheeks, and mouth.
I closed my eyes, swallowing past the lump in my throat. “Thank you.”
He tossed the washcloth in the tub and rocked back on his heels. I opened my eyes, and he was there, looking pale, sweaty, but as loyal as always. “Anytime, anywhere.”
Swallowing past my throbbing throat, I struggled to my feet, but he beat me to it and helped me up. Once I stood straight, he let go of me and stepped back, swiping a hand down his face. “Finn, we need to—”
At the same time, Finn said, “You got yourself so worked up, you—”
The front door opened, and we both froze. Finn stiffened and looked at me with horror on his face, but he quickly sprang into action. “Stay in here. Do not leave.”
He slammed the door in my face. For a second, I stood there, unable to process what had just happened, but I snapped myself into reality and followed him. I yanked the bathroom door open, my heart pounding so hard it hit my ribs, and bolted into the room.
When I saw what had caused the disturbance, I froze.
Dad stood in the doorway. “Everything is fine now. They caught the guy lurking around the woods today, about a mile from here, and he’s in holding right now.” I blinked, listening to my dad’s voice, unable to process it. “Does Carrie know about the threat? Did you tell her about it?”
“No. I didn’t tell her about him. I can’t believe he was so close and I didn’t know it.” Finn tugged on the hair at the back of his head. His nervous tic. “You had guys watching this place?”
“Of course I did.” My father shrugged. “As you pointed out, if Carrie is in danger, I’d put a whole team on her. So I did.”
“But you said he wasn’t a real—”
I gripped the doorjamb tight because the world was spinning all around me. They were talking about a bad guy having been caught, and Dad was asking Finn if he’d told me about it, and I was scared to death that Finn had lied to me again. For the millionth time.
“Who got caught?” I asked, my voice breaking. “What are you guys talking about?”
Finn looked at me, his face pale.
“Hey, Princess.” Dad stepped inside the living room, shutting the door behind him. “There was a guy who threatened you, but it wasn’t a big deal. I told Finn about it, and also about my plan to get you out here so we could get the guy while you were safely tucked away out of reach. I mean, he wasn’t a huge threat in the first place, but—”
“I was in danger.” I didn’t even look at him. My attention w
as focused squarely on my husband. “You were guarding me again, and you didn’t tell me?”
He paled even more. “I wasn’t. He wasn’t a huge threat.”
“But he was a threat.” I gripped the doorjamb even tighter. “You knew I was in danger, you brought me out here, and you didn’t tell me?”
“Yes. No. Maybe. I don’t know, damn it. I don’t know anything anymore.” He stepped closer. “I knew about it, but I also knew that he wasn’t a threat. Not really. Your dad told me as much.”
“I did. He wasn’t a big threat at all,” Dad agreed. “He’s right.”
It didn’t matter. Finn had lied to me about the drugs. He’d lied to me about the drinking. And he’d lied to me when I’d asked him if there was a reason he was acting so worried about every single noise.
He’d lied to me so much I didn’t know what was real anymore. I didn’t know if any of it was real anymore.
“It’s over,” Finn said, his voice so soft I barely heard him. “You’re safe now.”
I swallowed hard, blinking back tears, and shook my head. “I was never safe. Not really.”
Finn stared at me, his pain clear in his face.
It made me wonder if mine was, too.
“What’s going on?” Dad looked back and forth. “Did you two work everything out while you were here?”
“There’s no danger, no matter how small it might be, anymore, right?” Finn asked, his voice breaking. “She’s safe now?”
Dad flushed. “Yes. He’s been apprehended. But there’s obviously something going on here, and you two need to fix this for Susan before you leave.”
I closed my eyes. I wanted to. I really did. But he didn’t. He refused to admit he needed help, and there was nothing I could do with that. He needed to want to save himself, and he didn’t want to. Not yet anyway. He wasn’t ready.
And I couldn’t save him if he didn’t save himself.
It was time to think of Susan’s safety. That, and the little one growing inside of my belly. I had to put them first this time. I had to give up. I knew what was coming, and it hurt.
Finn grabbed his bag off the couch. My heart fell to my feet, all bloody and torn into shreds. “Sir, can you excuse us?” Finn asked, his knuckles white on his bag.
Dad looked back and forth between us, his face going paler by the second. “No. You two can’t do this. Don’t give up on each other.”
I had no idea how my dad had even known we’d been fighting in the first place, but I wasn’t about to ask. Not when Finn had one foot out the door. Not when everything was falling apart, one step at a time. Not when I was about to lose him.
“Dad. Please.” I finally tore my gaze off of Finn and looked at him. “Go wait outside. We need a minute.”
Dad left, his shoulders hunched. It was almost kind of funny that after years of him hating Finn and me together, back when we’d been dating, now he was championing Finn. Trying to fix our issues.
And I was the one who had to push Finn away so he could get the help he needed. How had it come to this again? Why was I never enough to make him better?
Finn gripped the straps of his bag even harder. “After all we’ve been through, after how hard I’ve tried, you’ll always think the worst of me. Every time. That’s how much I fucked us up, and that’s not something that can be fixed.”
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, curling my hands into fists. I wanted to tell him to forget everything, to come home with me. But that wouldn’t help him. It wouldn’t make him better. I was toxic for him, and nothing I did or said would change that. “I’m so, so sorry.”
He nodded, not meeting my eyes. “I know. I am too.”
“Can’t we—?”
“No. We need to stop.” He let out a shuddering breath. “You don’t trust me. You were right. We have to stop torturing each other. Stop hurting each other. It’s time to stop fighting the world together. It’s time to stop fighting to be together when we’re clearly not meant to be. It’s over, Carrie. It’s been over, but we didn’t even know it.”
“How can you say that?” I hugged my arms to my chest, tears slipping out of my eyes for what felt like the millionth time this weekend. “It’s not true.”
“But it is.” He walked up to me and cupped my face, gently wiping the tears away with both thumbs. “I love you more than life itself, and at times, I think I’ve always loved you more than you loved me.”
I shook my head frantically. “That’s not true at all.”
“But it is.” He smiled sadly. “And that was okay, because I didn’t care that we were lopsided. But this time, I care. I need…we need…love isn’t always enough. It isn’t always going to save everything. We have to…we have to give up, Ginger. We have to stop fighting the world, and we have to start fighting for ourselves. It’s time.”
A sob escaped me, and I covered my mouth. My ribs closed in on my lungs, making it impossible to breathe. I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. Couldn’t live. Not if he was leaving me. Not if he was giving up on me.
Not if he actually thought he’d always loved me more than I loved him.
It wasn’t true. None of it was.
“I can’t. I can’t, not without you. You can get the help you need, and then you can come home to us.” I gripped his arms tight, refusing to let go. In the face of losing him forever, I knew I couldn’t let him leave. “You can be with us again.”
He shook his head. “This isn’t just because of the pills or the PTSD. It’s the lies. I’ve told so many lies, and you don’t trust me anymore. You never will. It’s over. I ruined it. That’s why I’m leaving.”
But I wanted him to stay. I wanted to grow old together, the two of us, and raise our kids together. Live, laugh, and love together. “Please. Please don’t do this.”
He dropped his forehead to mine, his own breathing shaky and rough sounding. “Shit, Ginger, I don’t want to, but I have to. I have to do it for you.”
He pressed his mouth to mine, kissing me sweetly one last time, and then let go of me. As he headed for the door, I pressed a hand to my stomach and bit down on my tongue. I could tell him about the baby right now, and he’d come back. He’d come back and stay. I knew he would.
But I wouldn’t do that to him.
If he came back, it had to be because he wanted to. After he got help, he had to want to come back to me. Not because he’d been forced to by my news.
I’d tell him, but not like this. Not now.
“I love you,” I said, my voice so soft I wasn’t sure he’d hear it at all. “I love you so much, Finn.”
He froze in the doorway, his head dropping. We hadn’t said that to each other lately. Not really. It had all been almost…mechanic. As if we simply told each other where we needed to be and when, and that was what our marriage had become.
And now, it was over.
Because he walked out the door.
I collapsed to the floor, hand to my heart, and burst into bone-shattering, uncontrollable, heartbreaking tears. I didn’t think I’d ever stop. Because he…he…
He actually gave up.
Finn
I sat on the hotel bed, staring blankly at the door. Nothing moved. Nothing made me flinch. Nothing made me smile. There was nothing inside of me but an aching loneliness and the knowledge that if I died today, no one would give a damn anymore. I was on my own, and it was my fault.
I just sat there, staring at nothing and everything, feeling empty inside. It had been this way all week long, since I’d walked away from Carrie, and it would be this way forever.
I’d sworn to love her forever, and damn it, I would. But in this case, I’d loved her enough to know she needed me to go. I’d done it once before. It had almost killed me.
And now, I was doing it again.
This time, she’d been making herself physically ill. She’d gotten sick, all because she was so worked up over me, and her, and our fight. I’d physically made her ill.
How fucked up was that?
It wasn’t fair to her. I was dark and twisted and fucked up. A man Carrie didn’t need in her life. I wasn’t healthy. I wasn’t the man she needed. So I’d let go.
And I’d been right. It had hurt like hell.
The clock switched to five with a flash, and I slowly stood. It was time to go see Susan for my visitation, and that meant it was time to see Carrie again for the first time since I’d walked away. Since I’d given up on us. We worked on the same military base, but I’d managed to avoid her for the most part.
A lot of that was probably because she was avoiding me, too. I was so damn empty inside. So damn lonely. Maybe being with my baby girl would help.
I missed her like hell, and her smile never ceased to get to me. Never ceased to make me smile, and it had been way too fucking long since I smiled. Since that one night in the cabin with Carrie. And even then, it had felt surreal. As if I’d been walking on a land mine, and it had been about to explode.
Frowning in the mirror, I smoothed my button-up shirt over my stomach and swiped my palms down the thighs of my ripped blue jeans. I’d been alone for way too long now, but I hadn’t had a drop of booze in me. Hadn’t taken a single pill.
Hadn’t even wanted to.
Someone knocked on the door, and I jerked to attention, my palms sweating and my heart pounding in my ears so loudly it hurt my head. It drowned out the voices screaming for help. And the fear…fuck, the fear. I was so sick of being afraid.
So sick of myself, too.
“Who is it?” I called out.
“Service desk, sir,” a male voice that sounded somewhat familiar called out. “We have a message for you.”
I walked to the door slowly, taking calming breaths as I made my way across the room. It was just a knock. Nothing more. Nothing less. One. Two. Three. The voices quieted down with each breath I took. Four. After I unlatched the chain, I opened the door slowly.
When I saw who stood there, I almost shut it in his face. Not because I wasn’t happy to see him, because I was. But because he’d see how fucking lost I was right now. “She call you?”
Fractured Lines Page 10
