I keep remembering how he said it was just for a “short while.” Maybe that’s how he got me. He left me with hope.
That fucking bastard.
It’s like my body doesn’t want to hate him and instead the blame is falling on me.
It’s my fault I pushed him away.
My fault I gave him an ultimatum.
Why am I the one hoping he’ll forgive me?
Why am I the one praying he’ll write me back, leaving voicemails saying he’s sorry?
At least at night. And only late at night.
The days are so much easier.
After the unanswered texts, I started packing his shit into boxes.
And then I moved out and into Jules’ guest room.
I moved out … of an empty house. What the fuck is wrong with me?
I don’t know if I’m insane, hormonal, or how the hell I’m supposed to react to all this.
The only thing I really know is that I’m not the first woman to have a man leave her. I won’t be the last, either.
It is what it is, and every second that goes by with Evan not saying a word is one more scale on my armor hardening.
“What about her?” Jules asks me and I lift my gaze to her, trying not to show how pissed off I am. It’s not her fault.
She’s cuddled up on the couch, a cream and soft brown striped throw over her legs with the computer in her lap. She faces it toward me and I check out the profile.
Personal Assistant – Angela Kent
She has experience and an impressive resume. My eyes scan down the lines on the screen, but it’s hard for me to focus. I know I need to do some interviews and hire someone to help me. Or take on less work from the agency. Both are viable options. I just need to pick one. And hopefully soon. I’m drowning in work, but struggling to do anything.
“Maybe,” I tell her and then lean back into the sofa. I let my head fall back and wish I had one thing figured out in my life. Just one.
It seems like nothing can go right anymore.
“Hey, come on,” Jules says and places the laptop on the ottoman so she can scoot forward and lean against the armrest of my chair. “It’s going to be okay. No matter how dark the night gets, the sun will come in the morning.” She gives me this soft, encouraging smile for me to cheer up. It’s one of the lines from her first book she gave me as her agent. The memory takes me back to the high point of my life and then it crushes me.
“I’m sorry,” I tell her. “It’s just that the nights are hard.”
“I get that,” she says. “Do you want me to make you some tea?”
I shake my head no. “I think I just need to sleep,” I tell her, but I really don’t know what I need and that’s the problem. There’s no solution to this problem because it’s out of my control.
“If he said he’s coming back, I guess the real question is, do you wait for him?”
“I told him it’s over.” I sniff and absently pick at a fray on the end of the throw. “I told him if he walked out, I was done.”
“I know what you said. But it’s obviously not over, not for you.”
I mutter lowly, “I would be stupid to take him back.”
Jules smirks at me as she says, “We’ve all done stupid things. Haven’t we?”
She talks as she stands, letting the throw fall to the floor so she can stretch her back and adds, “Besides, forgiveness isn’t stupid and neither is love.” She says the words so confidently and lightheartedly, as if they’re so obviously true.
“Can I beat the shit out of him first?” I peek up at her with a half-grin, feeling a bit upbeat just from her being with me.
“I think I’ll allow it,” she responds as her own smile grows.
Mason’s footsteps can be heard from down the hall. He’s not quiet in the least and part of me wonders if he wants us to know he’s coming. “Sweetheart?” he calls out and we both turn to the open doorway before he enters.
“You wanna come to bed?” he asks Jules, gripping both sides of the doorway molding then leans in, just his upper half in the room. Like he’s checking to see if he’s welcome.
“I don’t know,” Jules says, but then immediately yawns.
“Go to bed, I’ll be fine,” I tell her and wave her off. “I’m tired too.”
“It might be silly,” Jules says as Mason walks toward her and wraps his arm around her waist, “but I’m really happy you’re here.”
“Thanks,” I reply and mean it. Such a simple admission makes my heart swell. That’s how badly I need someone right now.
“I’m lucky I have you,” I tell her. “And I guess you too,” I tell Mason, suddenly feeling awkward that he’s in the mix of this chick lovefest.
“You staying up?” he asks me.
“I’m exhausted. I think I’m just going to watch something and pass out.”
“I can stay up with you,” Jules offers, and her voice is even peppy. She’s eager to help me. But she’s not the one I need.
“I’m good. Seriously,” I tell her easily and for a moment I think I will be when she yields and they say goodnight. But as their footsteps slowly quiet to nothing, and the television proves useless for a good distraction, I start to remember what happened only nights ago.
How I opened my heart to Evan, while it was raw and damaged from his own doing.
And how accepted I felt when he said he was happy we were having a baby. Not just accepted, but complete and whole and like everything was going to be better than okay.
How loved I felt when he held me and kissed me.
How I didn’t want to be anything other than his when he laid me down in bed.
I think that’s the part that hurts the most. I would give up everything to just be his.
And he can’t even text me back. Not even today when I was scared shitless thinking someone was following me on my way to the company office for a short meeting. It was hard enough trying to keep my composure for the full two hours. I didn’t say anything the entire time. But on the way back home, I felt a pair of eyes on me. It was like a prickle at the base of my neck, like a sixth sense that told me someone was following me.
I hailed a cab and texted Evan immediately. Out of habit more than anything else.
I feel like I’m going crazy, with paranoia and all the hormones and crazy emotions coming with pregnancy. But I’m at least honest with Evan and open and raw. If nothing else I’m giving him everything I have to offer. And he can’t even give me a text.
I pick up my phone, intent on texting him just that.
He can ignore me all he wants, but I’m going to tell him everything I feel. I deserve that much. To at least be able to tell him. I’m not the one who keeps secrets. I’m not perfect, I text him. I’m slowing down at work. I have to. Carrying your baby is making me so tired. I love being pregnant though. I love knowing we’re going to have a baby. But I’m afraid I’m hurting him by being this way. I don’t know how to get better though.
I delete the last bit and stare at the ceiling as tears threaten to come.
I used to do this when my parents died. I used to write to them like I did at camp. I’d write to them telling them how angry I was. How they needed to come back.
It’s not fair that Evan is alive and says he wants me. Yet a very large piece of my heart feels like I’ve lost him forever.
Please, Evan. Please come back to me.
Just as I delete all the words, my phone rings.
It’s a number I don’t recognize and I let it ring again in my hand before answering it.
“Hello?”
“Hello. This is Dr. Pierce. I’m so sorry to call you, but Mr. Thompson’s phone has you listed as his daughter. Is that right?”
At first I’m confused, thinking Evan’s in the hospital, but then I realize it’s his father, Henry, that the doctor is referring to.
“Are you calling from a hospital?” I ask him as I sit up straighter, my mind waking up from the fog it was just in. Rather than correcti
ng the doctor and telling him that I’m Henry’s daughter-in-law and soon-to-be ex-daughter-in-law at that, I question him by asking, “Is everything alright?”
The doctor exhales on the other end of the line, but it’s not out of exhaustion or boredom, it’s the type of exhalation that accompanies bad news. The kind of sigh that says, I’m so sorry, I wish I didn’t have to tell you.
“I would like to first apologize for having to speak to you over the phone,” the doctor says and I’m taken back to middle school. Sitting down in the principal’s office, wondering what I did. I sat there, my legs swinging nervously as he brought in the secretary and then gave me such a sad look before leaving the room. He was so sorry to tell me. They’re always so sorry to tell you.
No one wants to be in the room when you learn your parents have died. No one wants to be the person to tell you. I could see it in Mrs. Carsen’s eyes.
“Sorry to tell me what?” I ask the doctor, but I’m already prepared for it. My heart feels both swollen and hollow and my head light with denial. I lower myself to the floor, my hand shaking as I hold the phone to my ear.
“Mr. Thompson suffered a blood clot, and unfortunately, it traveled to his lungs.”
I remember the way the bell rang as I cried and the other students ran through the halls, moving on with their lives and not knowing my life had changed forever in that moment.
The same agonizing pain rips through me and the tears fall freely as I end the call.
He can’t be dead. Not Henry.
He was the only dad I had, and I threw him away. He was supposed to be with me tonight. Like he wanted.
If I had met him, if I hadn’t blown him off … Regret consumes me.
I can hardly breathe as the phone drops next to me and I cover my face. He didn’t deserve to die. It’s an odd thing to think, because it means others do. But Evan’s father should still be here. He wasn’t supposed to go. Not yet.
My body shudders as I hold back a sob.
I’ve cried so many tears over the past weeks. So many shed on my pillow, in my hands, soaking into my heated skin.
But these tears are different.
It’s not from a fear of loss. It’s not because I’m disappointed in myself. It’s not even because I’m hopeless.
When you shed tears over something that’s truly gone, those are the tears that never leave you. It drowns your soul and takes a piece of your heart. That’s what death does.
I have to force myself to text Evan. Call me as soon as you can.
I don’t want to tell him over the phone. I want to be there for him. To hold him and ease the pain. Even more, I need him to hold me.
I hesitate but then add, It’s about your father.
The phone shifts out of focus as my eyes blur and my hand shakes, but I hear it ping after only a small moment.
It’s not Evan though, it’s Jake.
Hey, you want a coffee? he asks and I have to force myself not to message him. I have to force myself not to tell him that I’m not okay. That I can admit it and that it hurts.
But after almost an hour going by and a dozen more text messages unanswered from Evan, I cave. I have to tell him, and so I do. I tell him over a text that his father passed away and after crying for hours and seeing that he read it, I still get nothing back.
I text Jake, I’m not okay.
Chapter 15
Evan
* * *
She won’t wait for you forever,
There’s no way she ever could.
Time changes by the day and life,
Brings both the bad and good.
It creeps into who you are,
And deep down in your soul.
The person that you left behind,
Will never again be whole.
* * *
It’s fitting that it would snow today. My shoulders shudder as I watch the men dig the hole that my father will be laid in tomorrow. The ground’s hard and stubborn. Like my father, in a way.
The frigid air isn’t doing shit to help me keep my composure. I have to sniff and shove my hands in my pockets as I kick the ground.
All day, all I could think is that it was James who somehow found a way to kill my pops. Mason’s the only reason I didn’t go back into his office and kill him. Even if he wasn’t there, there’s not a place he could run.
I’m paranoid. I’m desperate. I’m fucking lonely.
I want my wife. I need her. And a weak man would go to her. And make her a target.
The snow crunches on my right and I turn toward the small parking lot. Mason’s early. I didn’t even hear him come up behind me.
“Thanks for coming, man,” I tell him and take his outstretched hand.
“I’m so sorry,” Mason tells me as takes a look behind me at the gravesite. He found Kat downstairs and he’s the one who told me.
Every piece of me is begging to go to her. She can make me feel better–not right, but better.
“Anything suspicious?” I ask Mason as I turn from the two men digging the hole. I’m desperate for someone to blame this on. It’s hard to even think it’s real, let alone just an accident. I’ll fucking lose it if he says yes, but that’s what I’m praying for. I’m already on edge. The anger is so much easier to handle than the despair. If this was because of me, I’ll never forgive myself. My heart clenches as Mason stares back at me.
“It was natural causes,” he says with more sorrow than I anticipated. I have to turn from him and face the nearly empty parking lot as the wind whips in my face.
I bite back the need to cry and simply nod my head.
Just a blood clot. Just bad luck. There’s no one to blame or kill.
And that’s what hurts the most.
“I’m really sorry,” Mason says behind me. He gives me the space I need and I’m grateful for it.
“Your girl,” Mason starts and then clears his throat. “You’ve got to do something for her.” His voice is weak, like he’s begging me.
“You’re the one who said I can’t,” I tell him as I face him. He told me not to. To not even think about texting her back. James is tracking my phone, just like we’re tracking his.
“When I asked about her being followed, and you said it wasn’t your guy,” I remind him.
“This is different,” Mason tells me like it wasn’t a big deal that someone could’ve been watching her.
“She’s not doing too well,” he tells me and my eyes dart to his. My blood turns to ice as I wait for him to spit it out. Not her. I swallow thickly.
“She said ‘everyone in her life dies,’ she said that this morning,” Mason tells me with a deep crease in his forehead. “She needs someone.”
“You’re the one who said she has to believe it too. That we’re over with.”
“I know, I know,” Mason concedes.
“So which is it?” I practically yell.
“I’m sorry, I just … it’s rough seeing her like this.” I want to rip my fucking hair out. I can’t stand it. This is fucking torture.
“My mistake, man, I’m sorry. Jules is there. She’s not going to leave her. Just … just wait a little longer.”
“How much longer?” I ask him, feeling torn and frustrated and like I can’t win either way. Defeated. I feel so damn defeated.
“We don’t have shit. Lapour’s record is clean and there’s no evidence of anything. We’ll have to plant it. Including messing with his emails and credit card data.”
“How long?” I ask him, not bothering to hide the irritation in my voice.
“Only days.”
Days … I can wait days. It’s only a few days and then everything will be right again and I’ll make it better. I nod, pacing in a short circle. Just days.
“I’m afraid after what happened in his office,” I tell Mason. “The way he asked about her. Like he was planning some shit.”
“She’s safe. I have her locked away with Jules and she doesn’t even know it.”
“Locked
away?” I question, stopping in my tracks.
“No one’s getting into that house. And Jules knows not to take her out. If Kat wants to go somewhere,” Mason snaps his finger, “there’s a security detail on her the second the door is opened.”
“So she’s safe?” I ask him. Knowing she’s alright makes not being with her a little easier to swallow. She’s protected, and that’s all that matters. I can’t lose her too.
“She’s safe and not a target,” Mason answers me.
“I don’t know. Not after the other night. You sure she’s not on his radar?”
“We’re tracking his emails and calls and her name hasn’t been mentioned. Yours is though.”
I snort at the idea of James planning some hit on me. “And what’s he saying?”
“Wants eyes on you. Wants to know what you’re doing and who you’re seeing.”
My heart sinks at the thought. “Who I’m seeing,” I echo, feeling crushed. It’s like he wants me to have to stay away from her.
“Yeah,” Mason answers with a defeated tone.
“That’s what I needed to hear, and I won’t risk it. I can’t.” My resolve hardens, but it sends a shooting pain down my chest. I twist the wedding ring on my finger and look back to the grave.
“Call her at least?” Mason suggests as I watch the men shoveling piles of dirt. “Not with your phone. From someone else’s.” I barely register Mason’s words.
“If I see her or talk to her,” my words come out as numb as my body feels, “I don’t know how I’ll walk away again.”
“It’s a tough call,” Mason says faintly.
“She’s not at risk now?” I ask him again. It’s fucked up, but part of me wants her to already be in the line of fire. Just so I can go to her. To hold her, and take back everything. And I hate myself for even thinking that for a second. I’m weak. I need to be stronger for her.
* * *
Diary Entry 1
* * *
Dear Pops,
* * *
Scarred: Sins and Secrets Series of Duets Page 8
