Especially today.
“Devin.” I land in front of him, and the tormented look in his eyes almost kills me. He doesn’t hide his tears from me, from Benny, and my heart aches in empathy. “I’m sorry,” I whisper, wondering if they’ll write that on my tombstone. They ought to. It seems to be the mantra I live my life by now.
“Why won’t you see me?” he cries. “I can’t fucking take it anymore, Ange. This is killing me. I need you today of all days.”
“Can he come back inside?” I ask Benny, beseeching him with my eyes.
His nose wrinkles. “I don’t think so, Ms. Ward. He made quite the scene. My instructions were to let him go home and cool off. He can come back tomorrow.”
Devin is uncharacteristically quiet.
“Please, Benny. I need to speak to him now.”
He rubs his chin, frowning a little. “How about you take a seat on that bench over there and talk for a few minutes? That’s the best I can offer.”
I lean in and kiss his cheek. “Thank you.”
I take Devin’s hand and lead him to the bench, gently pushing him down. He seems to have zoned out a little. I sit down beside him, clasping both his hands in mine. “I’m sorry for pushing you away, Devin. I’ve been scared to confront my feelings and to tell you some things I should’ve told you already, but it doesn’t mean I haven’t been thinking of you every day because I have.”
He twists around, and the vulnerability and fear in his eyes takes me back to a younger Devin. One who was unsure of the world and his place in it. I haven’t seen any evidence of that boy in grown-up Devin, and I hate that I’m the one to have sent him back there. “I’ve tried to be patient, and I understand what you’re going through. I went through the same, and I didn’t even tell you where I had gone, so I know it’s really hypocritical of me, and I don’t want to set back your recovery or pressure you in anyway but it’s just today …”
“I know. I remember which day it is too.”
“One part of me can’t believe it’s been five years since that day, because in some ways it feels like it was much shorter than that. Another part of me feels like I’ve lived a hundred years since Ayden died.”
“I know. I feel the same. As I have done every year on the anniversary.” I look down, almost choking on the burning lump in my throat.
“I’ve lived five years without both of you Ange, and I can’t do it anymore. I miss you so much. I just want things to go back to the way they were.” He leans his head on my shoulder, and I wrap my arms around his waist, savoring the feel of him against me.
“I want that too,” I whisper, my heart thumping wildly in my chest with the admission.
He lifts his head, a spark of hope glimmering in his eyes. “You do?”
“I think so. I mean, I’m getting there, but it’s scary. I haven’t been that person, lived that life for a long time, and I’ve hurt so many people…”
“The people who love you will forgive you. I already have.”
Tears soak my eyes. “I always seem to be crying around you.”
He presses a soft kiss to my head. “One of these days they will be happy tears.”
“Can I ask you something?”
“You know you can.”
“Would you attend a therapy session with me? My counselor has been suggesting it for weeks, and I didn’t feel up to it. Until now.” Ignoring the dreaded fluttering in my chest, I take a deep breath, padding my lungs with bravery as I push the words out of my mouth. “I want to move forward in my life, and I can’t do that until we get everything out on the table.”
He leans in swiftly, planting a kiss on my cheek. “I’m there. Just tell me when and where, and I’ll be there.”
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
Devin
I park my car, climb out, and start walking toward the facility. Tension coils in my gut as I head for my therapy session with Ange. A lot hinges on today. I think we both understand that. I know she has stuff to get off her chest, but so do I. I want a fresh start, a clean slate, and neither of us can do that without exorcising our demons.
She looked so good yesterday. With the exception of the dark circles under her eyes, she looks better than I’ve seen her looking in months. Her eyes are clear, her skin luminous, and she’s starting to fill her curves again. I know they put considerable emphasis on overall health here, and following a nutritional diet and exercise plan is part of the program. Dr. Bennett is also a leading expert in the field of cognitive behavioral therapy, which is the main reason I chose this facility for Ange.
I tap my foot nervously off the floor as I wait outside Dr. Bennett’s office. Then the door is opened, and I’m welcomed by the woman herself. After we’ve made introductions, she ushers me inside. Dressed in a pretty green dress, Ange is sitting on the comfortable soft gray couch. The red dye has almost fully disappeared from her hair, and she’s nearly back to her normal hair color. She looks so much like the Ange I remember, and it’s hard to avoid the urge to sweep her into my arms.
“Hi.” I smile, dropping onto the couch alongside her, conscious to leave a gap between us. I don’t want her to feel overwhelmed, and I’m just ecstatic to be in her presence after months of being shut out.
She tucks her hair behind her ears, answering me with a shy smile. “Hi yourself.”
Dr. Bennett settles into a seat across from us with a pad and pen in hand. “Thank you for joining us today, Mr. Morgan. Before we commence, I’d just like to mention a few things. Anything that is discussed in this room shall remain confidential between all parties. This is a neutral environment with no judgment. You can speak freely, although, I may intervene should Angelina become distressed as my patient’s welfare is my primary concern. Does that sound reasonable?”
“Absolutely, and I want to help. I’m here for Ange.”
She smiles, before turning her focus on Ange. “How would you like to start? What would you like to say to Devin today?”
She knots her hands in her lap, biting on her lip, and little lines furrow her brow. Her entire body is shaking. Reaching out, I lace my fingers in hers. “Don’t be afraid. I meant what I said. I’m here for you, no matter what.”
She nods, gulping before she speaks, and then the words gush forth. “I’m sorry I ran off in the way I did, and I’m sorry I hurt you. I know that was a horrible thing to do to you and Mom, but I convinced myself you were all better off without me, but, really, I ran away to punish myself. I don’t believe I deserve a future, not when I’ve taken Ayden’s from him.”
I open my mouth to protest, but she holds up a hand. “I need to get this out, Devin. All this stuff has been fermenting in my head for years, and I need to release it. Consequences be damned.” She stops to draw a shaky breath. “I know you’ll want to respond, but let me say my piece first.”
I lift our conjoined hands to my mouth, planting a kiss on the back of her hand. “I understand. I won’t interrupt.”
She gulps nervously again, and I can tell how difficult this is for her. “I feel guilty every time I think of that day—the day Ayden died—because I can still recall how blissfully happy I was that morning after spending the night with you. How euphoric I felt because we were finally in the same place. That we were going to be together, as a couple, in the way I’d always dreamed of. You made me so unbelievably happy that day.” She stares at me, and the truth radiates in her eyes. A second later, the dreamy look fades. “I also remember the phone call and the expression on your face as you heard the news.” Her chest heaves up and down. “I don’t think I’ll ever forget that look or the deep sense of foreboding that swept over me or the incredible, indescribable pain I felt when Mom told me he was dead.” She breaks down then, sobbing, and I pull her to me, my own tears mingling with hers. We hold one another, quietly crying for several minutes. “I don’t know if I can ever forgive myself for that,” she says,
sniffling. “I cheated on him, and I broke his heart, and he went home and killed himself. How can I ever defend myself?”
It’s so hard not to respond, but I promised I wouldn’t interrupt.
She wipes her tears away. “Everything good in my life seemed tarnished. And it wasn’t getting any better. I was in agony, and I hated myself so much. If I hadn’t been so weak, if I’d just stuck to my guns and stayed away from you until he returned, and I’d talked to him, then none of this would’ve happened. But there was no point dwelling on that. I couldn’t change the past, but I could alter the future.”
She grips my hands tighter. “I didn’t believe I deserved a chance at happiness. Why should I get a do-over when Ayden doesn’t get one? I believed if I stayed my guilt and my anger would have doomed our relationship anyway, and I knew I couldn’t handle it if I hurt you too. So, it seemed easier to take myself out of the equation, so I couldn’t hurt you or my mom or Mariah anymore. It seemed like a winning plan at the time.”
She half-laughs, bitterness slicing through her tone. She shakes her head sadly. “I knew how much it would hurt me to leave you all behind, and I wanted to hurt. I wanted to feel physical pain. But it was more than just that. Ayden and you always protected me. I felt it was my turn, so I left to protect you.”
Dr. Bennett interjects, looking at Ange. “I’d like to ask Devin how he feels about that.”
She nods, and I roll my shoulders, trying to loosen the tension in my muscles as I peer into her beautiful blue eyes. “I hate hearing you blame yourself for someone else’s actions,” I start off saying. “Even though a part of me can relate, because I felt horrific guilt for years too. I continued to see my therapist, and he helped me work through my feelings. The reality is Ayden is the only one responsible. We don’t know why he took his life, and we never will, but he’s the one who made that decision. Not you. Not me. I’m not saying that I don’t understand why you felt like that, but I don’t understand how you didn’t blame me? We slept together. There was a pair of us in it, but you only blamed yourself.”
“Because you weren’t his girlfriend. I was.”
I moisten my parched lips with my tongue. “I seem to remember that being a bit unclear. Besides, I was his best friend, and I shouldn’t have slept with his girl, but there were things you didn’t know back then. Things he knew, and I’ve often wondered if I’d told you would you have felt differently?”
“What things?” She looks confused. “I knew you both hid stuff from me out of some misguided sense of protection, but I don’t see what that’s got to do with this?”
I draw a deep breath. “I need to tell you some stuff, and I need to start at the beginning for it to make sense, but I need to know you’re up for this.” I glance over at Dr. Bennett, and she deflects to Ange.
Slowly, she nods. “That’s why we’re here today. I want to hear it.”
I exhale deeply before speaking. “The man who raised me, who I thought at the time was my father, used to beat me.” Her beautiful face pales. “It only started after my mother left. Before that, he used to beat her.”
She gasps, but I keep going. “As you know, I found out years later that his brother, Jim, was actually my father. It seems apparent the asshole discovered the truth around the time my mother left. I don’t understand why he didn’t tell Jim that Lucas and I were his kids. If he hated us that much, he could’ve offloaded us pretty easily. Jim thinks he kept quiet to spite him.”
Before I wander off topic, I redirect the conversation where it needs to go. “Anyway, those bruises you saw on me weren’t always from the boxing ring. Most were from his fists. The first few years, he took the brunt of his anger out on Cam and me. As Cam got older, he protected me, stood up to the ol’ man, and the beatings died down, until Cam left. When he joined the marines, he worried about what would become of us, but I assured him we’d be fine. I didn’t want him giving up his dream for us. But as soon as Cam was out of the picture, the beatings resumed. I was old enough, and skilled enough, to fight back, and I did, but it didn’t stop him from going after me when he was wasted. We fought viciously. Beat the crap out of each other time and time again. I started drinking heavily in an effort to block it out, and then I’d feel so guilty, because I worried I was exposing Lucas, and I’d done everything up to that point to shield Luc from him.” I stare into her eyes. “Ayden knew. As did your mom.”
“What?” Shock is etched across her gorgeous face.
“It was your mom who called social services those couple of times. She was worried about us. But Cam and I went to her and begged her not to do it again. We were terrified they were going to split us up, put us into foster care. I didn’t want to be separated from my brothers. That’s when it was agreed that we’d eat dinner at your house, and your mom made it clear we could sleep over any time we needed to. She couldn’t promise she wouldn’t involve the authorities if she saw evidence of further abuse, so, after Cam left, when the beatings restarted in earnest, I had no choice but to deliberately put some distance between me and you. If you knew, you’d tell her, and I couldn’t take that risk. Even though I know you would’ve kept the secret if I’d asked you to, I didn’t want to put that kind of pressure on you.”
“Oh my God.” She clamps a hand over her mouth. “I had my suspicions during our final year of high school, but I’d no idea it’d been going on for years.”
“I didn’t want you to know for a couple reasons. I was ashamed, and I didn’t want you thinking less of me. It made me feel like less of a man.” It sounds so stupid now, but it’s how I felt at the time. “But mostly it was because I was protecting you from him.”
She goes deathly quiet. “In what way?” she whispers a minute later.
“Cam and I always believed Dad had a hand in Mom’s disappearance. That was proven three years ago. You probably don’t know this, but he died the year after you left. He was stabbed to death in a bar brawl in Cincinnati. Lucas was living with Jim, I was in college, and Cam was abroad with the marines, so the house lay idle. We eventually sold it, and when the new owners were renovating, my mom’s remains were found in the backyard.”
“Oh my God, Devin. I’m so sorry.”
I nod over the football-sized lump in my throat, the usual torment ambushing me. The thought that my mom was buried in our backyard the whole time kills me. Especially when I think of all the nights I cursed her for leaving. Wished ill of her. Not knowing she was dead all along and right under my nose. I don’t think I’ll ever overcome the clusterfuck of emotions surrounding her death and my upbringing. But now isn’t the time to get into it.
This is about Ange. Not me.
“The point is, we always knew he had issues with women. We suspected foul play in relation to Mom, and then he tried to attack Cam’s girlfriend, Lori, one night when he was drunk. Cam protected her and convinced her not to press charges, but we knew then we were living with a monster. I didn’t want him knowing I had feelings for you, so I tried to stay away, and I slept around, in part, to throw him off the scent.”
A familiar wounded look sweeps across her features, reminding me how much I hurt her back then.
“As graduation neared, my resolve was weakening. You were always beautiful, Ange, but my God, that year you really blossomed.” I cup her cheek. “And there were cracks in your veneer too. I couldn’t be sure, but I thought you shared my feelings, and I didn’t know how much longer I could stay away from you.”
She places her hand over mine, her chest visibly shuddering.
“I confided in Ayden the summer before senior class. I told him about my father and about my feelings for you. Ayden wanted me to report him, but he backed down when I told him I couldn’t put Lucas into foster care. He understood, but he made me promise to stay away from you, and I agreed, because I knew it was the only way to keep you properly safe, but I kept relapsing. I struggled to stay away from you.”
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br /> “That’s why you were both fighting all the time?” she asks.
“Yeah. He was furious every time I got close with you. I believed at first that it was because he wanted to protect you, but, later on, I felt like he pushed me away on purpose. He wanted that separation between us so he could have you himself.”
She shakes her head. “Ayden wouldn’t have done that. That’s not who he was.”
“He wasn’t a saint, Ange. He had flaws like the rest of us. He just didn’t wear his as visibly as I did.”
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
Angelina
“You can’t say that about him. You can’t cast doubt on his character retrospectively,” I protest, feeling so many conflicting emotions.
“Why? Because he’s dead?” I suck in a shocked gasp at the venom in Devin’s tone. He removes his hand from my face, pinning me with a stern look. “His death and your leaving changed me. My outlook on life is different now. I don’t care about petty bullshit, and I won’t hold back on saying things that need to be said. Life’s too fucking short. I learned that lesson early. I’ve held back up to this point, but, fuck it, this shit needs to be said.”
“I don’t see how you bad-mouthing Ayden after he’s dead achieves anything,” I shout. “It’s not going to help either one of us move forward.”
He drags a hand through his hair. “How can you say that when you’re still sitting here wallowing in guilt for something he did? You’ve thrown away your whole Goddamned life because of his selfishness, and you expect me to sit here and keep my mouth shut?”
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