“It’s all right, baby,” she sang. “Shh. You’re okay.”
Honey’s gaze shifted between the sidewalk and the car that was now speeding down the hill. She was sure it was going to stop. There was no way the driver would run a red light, especially not with a woman and her stroller moving through the intersection.
Still, Honey found herself hurrying, wondering why the width of this street was double the last one. Her feet could only move so fast with both children, but she was going at a speedy pace when she reached the middle of the road.
That was the moment she realized the car wasn’t going to stop.
She lifted her hand in the air, waving it to get the driver’s attention. When a few seconds passed and that didn’t work, she froze and screamed, “Oh my God!”
Fear was trying to paralyze her.
She wouldn’t let it.
Especially because the hill was making the car go faster, and Honey was running out of time.
She squeezed Andrew and dragged the stroller back several paces, trying to move in the opposite direction of the car. She was able to get them some clearance, but then the driver swerved, and the headlights were aiming right for them once again.
“No!”
She didn’t have time to back up more.
All she could do was run forward and hope she avoided the car.
“Baby, hold on!” she yelled, squeezing the plastic handle. Her arm yanked back like she was clutching the string on a bow, and then she pushed the stroller with all of her might.
Once it was out of her hand, she wrapped her body over Andrew, trying to keep him as protected as she could, and she began to run. Her toes ground into the pavement as she took her first leap, her next foot landing, and she repeated the same action.
She was only a few steps in when she cried, “Stop,” at the top of her lungs, her ears filling with the loudest sound she’d ever heard.
Louder than the hoot of the train that she had ridden on as a child, louder than the gunshot the one time she’d gone deer hunting. Louder than the hardest crack of thunder.
While she watched Billie’s stroller head safely to the other side of the road, she tucked her body even tighter around her son, giving him the most protection, and she carried that baby as far as she could.
Jared
When I had been a sophomore in high school, I’d broken my wrist. Now, every time the seasons changed, I could feel it in that joint. I could tell when it was going to rain, when the weather was going to turn extremely cold. My wrist was never wrong.
When Billie got into my SUV on May 20 and began driving south on I-95, I knew a storm was coming. There was no other reason she would be leaving Maine today other than to confront me. Maybe it was a gut feeling. Maybe, deep down, I had known this was the weekend she would figure it all out. But I knew everything was about to change.
The call came in when she was just north of Boston. She kept it short, telling me she had to head back here, and she asked where I’d be when she returned. She knew I was back from California already, so I told her to meet me at my condo.
I didn’t leave. I didn’t eat.
I paced, watching the dot on my GPS app move closer to Manhattan until she was pulling into the garage of my building.
I’d asked for this.
I’d put myself in this situation.
I had known from the beginning there was an expiration date on us. A relationship between Billie and me couldn’t work permanently. That was why I’d fought it, why I’d battled like hell in my head. But the more time we spent together, the more I learned how perfect she was for me, and I just hadn’t been strong enough to stay away.
Or to stop myself from falling in love with her.
As she walked into my condo, every fear I’d had confirmed, it hurt like hell to know, after only six months, we were already here. At the end. And the look on her face told me I’d shattered her heart.
I couldn’t despise myself worse.
But I did.
“Billie …” I breathed as she got halfway through the living room.
Her stride was as powerful as her expression, and she said nothing as she moved over to the sectional. I was sitting in the middle, but she halted at one of the sides and stayed behind it. Her hand extended over the head pillow, fingers now opening, a picture sliding over her palm that fell onto the bottom cushion of the couch.
My eyes followed, seeing it was my school photo from junior year.
I’d had no doubt before, but there was no question now.
She knew exactly who I was.
While my heart pounded through my chest, my teeth grinding together, I stared at the boy in that photo. I didn’t know who that kid was anymore, the seventeen-year-old who had been on the football team, earning decent grades where college recruiters had already been whispering in his ear.
That kid had died on May 20.
In his place was me.
And the only survivor from that crash was the girl staring back at me, whose teary eyes were boring into me. Who opened her mouth and whispered, “What’s the name of the boy in that photo?”
My hands were sweating, and I grasped them around the couch. I didn’t want to answer, but I owed it to her. And when I finally did, I was overflowing with shame. “Casey Rivers.” Hearing my birth name sent a fucking tremor through me. I hadn’t called myself that since I was seventeen.
She wrapped her arms around her stomach, her face reddening. “Is that you? Are you Casey Rivers?”
I had seen this moment play out many times in my head.
But, Jesus fucking Christ, I hadn’t thought it was going to feel like this. “Yes.”
A groan came from her, her skin turning pale. Tears were dripping past her cheeks, and she didn’t wipe them. “You’re the man who killed my mother … and brother …” Her lips stayed parted, and they were as wet as her eyes. “And you almost killed me.”
Those were words I’d heard before when her father spoke them in court. But hearing them from Billie was entirely different. They drove straight into my stomach where the guilt had been living for all these years, and they twisted the goddamn knife.
“Billie, please let me—”
“I trusted you.”
I pushed myself up from the couch, moving to the other side. “Let me explain,” I said as I approached.
She backed up. “Don’t come any closer.”
“Billie, please.”
Her chest heaved as she put her hand up and snapped, “No! Stay right fucking there.”
“I’m not going to hurt you.” I swallowed even though it stung, and I sat my ass on the back of the couch, putting several feet between us.
“You’re not?” Her voice turned stern. “Because you did that the second you came into my life.”
She was glaring at me like I was a monster.
I was.
“Billie—”
“Stop saying my name. You lost that right when you lied to me about who you were.” When I tried to interrupt, she added, “I let you into my life. I opened my heart up to you.” She shook her head, tears falling even faster, her lids so red and raw. “I gave you every bit of me.” She took another breath, and a searing pain bolted through my chest. “I … loved you.”
This was the first time I’d heard her say it in person.
It was supposed to be a beautiful moment.
Not this.
Not surrounded by all the pain that I’d caused.
My hands went into my hair, gripping the strands, tugging them from the roots. I had known she was going to hurt, but I couldn’t have prepared myself for how I would feel when I saw the destruction on her face and when she told me I was the cause of it.
My gaze intensified, my fingers begging to wrap around her. “Just let me explain. Please, Billie.”
Her tears were dripping faster, and she didn’t wipe them. “I trusted you,” she repeated, and it stabbed even harder the second time. “Jared—Casey—I don’t ev
en know what the hell your name is.”
“It’s Jared. My name is Jared.”
“You should have told me. It’s been months, and you said nothing.” Her lips quivered as she inhaled. “And now, you want to explain yourself? It’s far too late for that.” Her lids squinted shut, a sob shuddering through her. “Oh God …”
She put her hand over her heart, trying to breathe, and I could tell it was getting more difficult. A new emotion was surfacing, and it looked like one of the hardest.
“I don’t know if I would have ever wanted to meet you, Jared. But you took that choice away from me.” Her hands weren’t anywhere near me, but I felt one slap me across the face. “You fucking bastard.” She backed up several lengths.
“Billie …” My throat was tightening, not letting me talk louder than a whisper. “Don’t go. Please.”
She ignored me, and I followed her to the elevator where I gently reached for her hand.
She yanked it away from me. “Don’t touch me.”
“Billie—”
“Don’t call me that. Don’t call me anything.” She walked into the elevator, and as she turned around, she said, “Stay the hell away from me,” right before the door slid closed.
“Billie …” I breathed for the last time, staring at the black elevator door.
May 20 had a new significance, making this day even darker.
It was the day I crashed again … the day Billie completely wiped me from her life.
Billie
I ran out of Jared’s building. I rushed to the end of the block where there was a public trash can, and I threw up in it. With wind blowing my hair into my face and tears streaming down my cheeks, I heaved, losing the tiny breakfast I had eaten many hours ago.
Not feeling a single stare from anyone passing me, I wiped my hand over my mouth, and I walked down the sidewalk. I had no idea where I was going. I didn’t even know what street I was on.
I just knew I had to be outside.
I needed air.
My feet wanted to move, the time I’d spent in his car stifling.
During the drive, I’d rehearsed what I was going to say, knowing the conversation had to be done in person. That just meant my trip to New York was the longest drive of my life, my thoughts marinating with each mile, my emotions charred by the end.
When I’d pulled into his building, nothing was any clearer. I still couldn’t process a single thought.
Why did he come into my life?
Why didn’t he tell me who he was?
Why did he touch me?
Why did he tell me he loved me?
Why did he let me fall in love with him?
Why did he lie to me?
Why was Casey Rivers the same person as Jared Morgan?
Oh God.
I put my arm against my stomach, needing the pressure to alleviate some of the aching. The movement made the ring on my hand sparkle, the streetlamp glimmering over the gold. It was my mother’s wedding band that my dad had given to me when he thought I was responsible enough not to lose it. I’d worn it on the plane when Jared protected me during the crash. When we made love in his bed. It’d rubbed against his fingers every time he held my hand.
Never once in all these years had I taken it off.
I couldn’t.
The band was a piece of her I wouldn’t let go of.
Because Jared had taken all the other pieces of her away from me.
I froze in the middle of the sidewalk, the gnawing tearing through my body, making it too hard to catch my breath.
Everything hurt.
My muscles were screaming, my joints burning.
I couldn’t breathe.
Because in my mind, I saw the small photo of Casey that I had been holding on to all day, and I saw Jared’s face right before the elevator door closed.
Both were like eight-inch chef knives stabbing straight into my heart.
And then I felt the vibrating.
It came from my pocket, and I didn’t know what made me reach for my phone or why I looked at the screen.
The second I did, I regretted it.
Jared: Please give me a chance to explain myself. 5 minutes—that’s all I’m asking for.
Jared: Don’t let us end like this.
I hurried to the nearest trash can and lost the remainder of what had been in my stomach. Once I felt well enough, I turned off my phone and started walking.
I just wanted to unplug from it all.
Jared
Just because I’d shattered the heart of the woman I loved, that didn’t mean I was going to stop fighting for her. So, I texted her after she walked out of my condo and again the next morning and evening. Whether I was in the middle of work or flying, she got a message at least twice a day. Some were begging her to give me a few minutes to talk. Most just told her how much I missed her.
Because I did. So fucking much.
And that feeling only grew, as did her silence. After six days of no response, I finally heard from her.
Billie: I want answers. Nothing more.
Me: I’ll give them to you.
Billie: Come over tomorrow night at 7.
Me: See you then. Thank you, Billie.
When my hand knocked on Billie’s door at a few minutes before seven the next evening, the only thing I brought with me were my lies, and I planned on unraveling each one.
It was time she heard the truth.
Once she opened the door and I saw her expression, it reminded me of my past and of the reason I had changed my name in the first place.
That was to avoid the way I was feeling right now.
Even if I deserved it.
“Billie …” My eyes stayed on her face, taking it all in.
Gone was the girl who used to smile for me, who warmed in my presence, melted when my hands touched her.
In her place was the girl I had seen right after the plane crash.
We’d both changed.
Again.
Because of me.
“Please don’t,” she said, putting up her hand.
I hadn’t approached. I’d said nothing more than just her name. It looked like even my voice was too much for her.
“I’m sorry.”
It hurt to inhale.
To stare into her beautiful, troubled eyes.
To think this could be the last time I was ever here.
Fuck.
Billie took a few deep breaths, and then she turned around, leaving the door open so I could follow her in. I stayed several paces behind, and when she reached the living room, she stood with her back to one of the windows and faced the couch.
I accepted that as the spot where she wanted me to sit, and I put my ass on the cushion.
My hands clenched together, and I leaned forward, elbows resting on my knees. “Thank you for letting me back in—”
“You’re not back. You’re giving me answers. Let’s make that clear.”
Her eyes told me the same thing.
As did her posture.
And as much as I deserved both, seeing it didn’t make it any easier to accept.
“Where do you want me to start, Billie?”
“I want the whole story. Start at the beginning.”
The last time I had rewound this far, Billie had been too small to be in court to hear my testimony. Her father had been there instead.
I remembered the details so fucking vividly.
I glanced down and ground my palms together. “It was the end of the year. I was taking finals and playing baseball, and we were heading into playoffs. A bunch of my buddies were graduating and moving away, and I was trying to hang out with them as much as possible.”
I sat up straight, my hands dropping to the cushion on each side of me, holding it firmly. “I wasn’t sleeping very much, and I was so tired from the practices and games and just fucking going all the time. When the night of the party came, I hardly had any energy left.”
The whole evening was in m
y mind. I saw the kegs spread out across the grass. The kids standing around drinking. The music. Cars. Laughing.
Jesus fucking Christ, there was so much laughter that night.
“I had to get up early for practice, and I knew if I drank, it would put me right to sleep, so I filled my plastic cup with water and hung around there until one.” I pushed myself to my feet, walking in the opposite direction, giving her plenty of space. “I didn’t have a sip of alcohol at that party.”
When I looked at her again, a wave of emotion was moving through her eyes. It wasn’t the first one I had seen since I arrived, but this one hit me the hardest.
She backed up until she was flush against the window and wrapped her arms around her stomach. “Go on.”
“I don’t remember approaching the top of the hill.” I raked my fingers through my hair while she appeared to squeeze herself even tighter. “I don’t remember the moment I fell asleep.” I tugged on the ends of the strands, feeling the pain, needing it so badly. “I’ve tried. I’ve tried so fucking hard. I just can’t.”
A new level of rawness came across her face, the ache of it dripping from her eyes. The intensity of it circled my throat and strangled me, but I had to push on. I had to finish.
“The only thing I can recall from those last few seconds”—the words were stuck in my mouth; I wanted to say them, and my heart wanted to explode at the same time—“is when the car hit the pothole, causing the steering wheel to jerk from my hand, and that’s what woke me.”
“That’s when you hit the brakes.”
Hearing her say that was unlike anything I’d ever experienced. Worse than fracturing my goddamn wrist. Worse than being on Flight 88 when the drone hit the engine. Worse than when the plane was going down and crashed in the field.
It took several seconds before I could settle my chest enough to say, “Yes. You’re right.”
As soon as my lips closed, the feeling returned even stronger than before. Because it didn’t matter that I had slammed on my brakes; the car had still hit Mrs. Paige as she was crossing the road with her son. The only reason Billie had survived was because her mother had taken a few extra seconds to push the stroller, and it had gotten far enough away where it wasn’t in my track.
Don't Break This Kiss (Top Shelf Romance Book 5) Page 96