Fractured Hope (Undone Series Book 4)

by Kristy Love

  “I don’t give a fuck if you had a fight or broke up or are secretly married, get your ass over to that house and make sure she doesn’t do anything rash, okay?”

  “Of course I will.”

  “We have a few things to finish up at the hospital, but we’re here if you need anything. We can come over after we’re done.”

  “Let me see how she’s doing. I’ll let you know.” Tires squealed in the driveway next door and I looked out the window. Mia climbed out of her car, slammed the door, and walked up her sidewalk as though it was a normal day. “She just got home. I’ll talk to you later.” I hung up without waiting for David’s answer. I rushed out the door, heading straight for Mia. She opened her front door and slipped inside. I didn’t knock, instead I let myself in. “Mia?” I called as I closed the front door. Where did she go so fast? I was mere seconds behind her. “Mia, where are you?”

  I turned the corner into the dining room. She stood in front of a big picture of Gia. Her hair was in ponytails, showing off her ringlet curls. She had a giant smile on her face, happiness radiating off her. She had a ball in her hands as though she was ready to throw it to someone off camera. “I took this picture. We were in the park and she was playing with a few kids. They included her in their game and she was so excited. She beamed as they played, squealing every time the ball came to her. She kept screaming for me to watch. ‘Mama, watch me! Watch me!’” Mia’s voice was empty, vacant of all emotion. I worried. Where were the tears? The devastation? I knew she had to be hurting, crippled by the pain. Was it so bad that she’d shut down? I moved a little closer to her, wanting to pull her into a hug. “She was so carefree, so innocent. That was one of my favorite things about Gia. She was so trusting. She didn’t look at the world as if it were full of scary monsters. The world was a playground full of potential friends. Everyone was friendly and loving.” She scoffed. “Brock hadn’t broken her yet.” Her voice wobbled, betraying her emotion. “I always thought, if I could just be a little more like her, then things would be better. If I could love a little harder, believe a little more, have more faith, then everything would be okay.” She grabbed the picture off the wall, her hands shaking. She ran her fingers over Gia’s face, trailing softly. A tear landed on the glass and my heart broke in my chest. She had to be feeling so much. It had to be overwhelming.

  Then all hell broke loose.

  She turned and threw the picture and it shattered against the wall. I flinched, the movement and noise catching me off guard. A guttural sound ripped from her throat as she grabbed two small pictures off the table in front of her. Each picture was thrown against the wall, breaking into small pieces. She screamed, cried, and shook, the visceral emotion rolling off her in waves.

  “You were supposed to be okay!” she yelled, throwing a vase. “You were supposed to wake up and be here for me!” She grabbed a dish and destroyed it. Everything that she picked up was sent careening against the wall, only to smash into tiny pieces. She threw pictures, clocks, vases. She went over to a piece of furniture and swept her arm across it, sending everything crashing to the ground. I rushed to her side just in time. Her knees gave out and she collapsed to the floor. I held her to my chest as she fell apart, tears soaking her face, her nose running, and her body trembling violently. She screamed unintelligibly, words mixed with gibberish.

  Tears came to my eyes and threatened to break free, but I wanted to be strong for her. She’d been strong for so long and for so many people. For Gia, David, Roxie. This was too much. Losing her daughter had caused her to break and I tried desperately to hold the fracturing pieces of her together.

  I hoped I was strong enough to support her.

  We sat like that for so long that my legs went numb. Her sobs quieted into hiccups. Her eyes were vacant, though tears streamed down her cheeks.

  “Why don’t we get you up to bed?” I asked, keeping my voice soft. She didn’t nod or move. I stood, pulling her up with me. I scooped her into my arms and carried her up the stairs. She clung to me, though she didn’t acknowledge me in any way.

  Upstairs, I laid her in bed, then pulled off her shoes and socks. She hated socks in the bed. Right now, I didn’t think she cared, but I wanted her as comfortable as possible. I tucked her in, though she laid still. She blinked slowly. “Do you want me to stay?” I felt like an ass asking, but I didn’t want to leave her alone. I also didn’t want to force her to stay in my presence. She didn’t say anything or acknowledge me at all. I brushed her hair off her face, unsure. Her face was puffy and red. Maybe wiping it off would bring her a small piece of comfort, if it was even possible at this point.

  I turned to head to the bathroom and her arm shot out, gripping my wrist. “Please don’t leave me,” she said, her voice small and weak. She didn’t look at me.

  “I’ll get you a washcloth to wipe off your face.” Her nails dug into my skin. I wouldn’t be surprised if she left little half-moons behind when she let go. After a few seconds, she let go, her arm falling limply on the bed. I got a cool cloth from the bathroom and returned to gently wiping her face. After I was done, I crawled onto the bed and held her, staying on top of the covers. She sniffled and shed a few more tears, but nothing as violent as it was downstairs. Her hands remained on my arms, as if she needed the reassurance that I was still there.

  Eventually, her eyes drifted shut and I stayed with her, holding her. I pulled my phone out of my pocket and shot David a quick update. I didn’t want him to show up. I didn’t think Mia would want that right now. I also knew he’d be worried sick, so hopefully telling him I’d stay with her would be enough.

  I had no idea how to navigate this. I didn’t know what Mia needed or wanted. I hoped I’d be able to bring her a little bit of comfort during a time of hell.

  * * *

  The next few days were a blur. David and Roxie, as well as other friends of Mia’s, came in and out of the house. Mia was stoic most of the time, not showing much emotion. She planned a funeral for Gia, picking the smallest casket I’d ever seen in my life. The only indication she gave that she was upset was the consistent clearing of her throat before she spoke, as though her throat had closed up and she had trouble getting any words out. I convinced her to call Tammy, hoping she could provide support to Mia when she so desperately needed it. Tammy immediately helped out, organizing a luncheon for close friends and family after the funeral. With Roxie’s help, they notified everyone they needed to contact.

  During the day, Mia was a rock. She did what she had to do without breaking down or lashing out. She was the picture of strength and capability.

  As soon as everyone left, though, she broke down in my arms, sobbing and asking why. She begged for her baby girl and cried herself to sleep. I tucked her into bed. Somehow, she was always awake enough to ask me not to leave her. She wanted me by her side day and night, as though she could leach strength from me.

  The truth of the matter was I barely held it together. Watching her go through this killed me. The way she felt she had to handle it all on her own broke my heart. The way she trailed her hand over the small casket damn near crushed me. She had to pick out an outfit for Gia to wear and ended up locking herself in Gia’s room for two hours. She had to pick out a few pictures to use at the funeral home and ended up cradling them to her chest, stroking Gia’s face as though she could actually touch her.

  “Do you think she’s in Heaven?” Mia asked, her voice soft. It was almost so soft I didn’t hear her, even though I sat next to her on the couch.

  “If anyone deserves immediate entrance to Heaven, it’s Gia.”

  “Yeah,” she said, flipping to a new picture. She flinched so I looked over. It was a picture of her holding Gia, both of them with big smiles on their faces. A man stood behind them, his arms crossed over his chest, lips pressed into a firm line, and boredom filling his eyes. It didn’t take a genius to figure out this was her ex-asshole, Brock. “I thought I got them all.” Her voice trailed off as her face paled.

&nbs
p; “All what?”

  “After Brock divorced me and it was clear that Gia wouldn’t wake up right away, Roxie, David, and I held a bonfire. I threw in every single picture I had of Brock. If Gia was in it, I cut him out and burned his half. I destroyed our wedding album, our honeymoon pictures, and even our marriage certificate. I took our family picture down off the wall. All of it was supposed to be gone. I didn’t want him in my life. I didn’t want even a hint of a remembrance.” She looked up at me, her eyes haunted. “I missed this one. I don’t know how.” She gazed down at the picture. “Do you see how that eyebrow is puffier?” She pointed to her eye farthest from the camera.

  “Yeah.” A knot formed in my stomach as I waited for her next words. I had a feeling I knew what she would say before she even said it.

  “He’d punched me a few days before; that’s why it was swollen. I had to cover it with makeup.” She made a noise that sounded like a mix between a scoff and a snort. “I protected him. Always. No one could know how he was with me. I thought I hid it all so well. Maybe I had . . .”

  I hugged her, burying my face in her neck. I wanted a chance to show her how she deserved to be treated. Her hands stayed clutched to the photo as though she couldn’t give it up. “I’m so sorry.” Those words were worn out. I’d been saying them over and over and over again. What else could I say? My words were empty because I could never fill in the hollowness in her heart, in her soul.

  She moved out of my arms and ripped the picture down the middle, right through her face.

  “Mia, I think you should stop.” I didn’t want her to regret destroying a picture of her with Gia. She needed to keep everything from Gia’s short life because there was no hope for getting it back. She’d never get more pictures of Gia. She had all she’d ever have.

  “He tainted this picture. Like he tainted so much.” She kept ripping, the pieces getting smaller and smaller, falling like snow. Her face and Brock’s rained down, but Gia’s was saved. “He doesn’t deserve to be with her. He ruined her.” Her voice shook as she ripped more angrily. “He ruined everything.” Her hands shook, her fingers moved quickly. Her ragged breaths turned to sobs as she finished tearing the picture apart. She clutched the picture of Gia to her chest, falling apart completely. I held her tightly, letting her get the emotion out. “He gave me Gia. How can someone so awful create something so beautiful? So amazing?”

  “She was you, Mia,” I whispered against her hair. “She had you in her and that is where all the amazing, beautiful, and sweet came from.”

  “What did she get from him?”

  “Her last name.”

  She broke down further, her body shaking furiously. Tears slipped from my eyes. Her pain was too overwhelming. It pulled me under until it washed over me, taking me prisoner. I tried my best to keep my emotions in check, not wanting her to know how broken I was for her.

  “He hated every name I picked. Every name I wanted for our little girl, he said was ugly, was the name of a whore.” Her emotion took over, halting her words. “He agreed with Gia, saying it rhymed with my name and he’d always be reminded of the person he loved most in the world.” She shuddered. “What he really did was tell everyone I was so full of myself that I needed to rhyme my daughter’s name with mine.” Anger raged against the sadness as it usually did when her ex-asshole was brought up. I hated what he did to her. “I didn’t care what her name was, just that she was healthy, that she was mine.”

  “She was yours, Mia. Always yours.” The lump in my throat made it hard to talk. Sadness competed with anger for more space inside my body. They butted heads, warring for more of my attention. If I ever saw him, I’d probably kill him. It wouldn’t matter where it was or who was around. There was only one person on this planet that I hated as much as I hated him: the man who shot and killed Laura. But that murderer was serving life in prison. The other asshole got off easy. He was able to go out and live his life as though he hadn’t destroyed other people.

  “How do I go on without her? What life do I have without her in it? No more visits to the hospital, no more reading her books, no more hope.” Sobs wracked her body so violently that she convulsed, clutching my shirt as though I was the only thing keeping her alive. Maybe I was.

  “You’ll find a new normal. You’ll always feel her absence; you’ll always miss her and love her fiercely. You’ll have silent conversations with her and hope she looks down on you and smiles. You’ll hope you gave her life meaning and love when she was alive. You’ll hope to honor her memory as best you can.” My eyes welled again, the topic hitting too close to home.

  Mia looked up at me, her big wet eyes seeming to stare into my soul. Her body had stilled, drawing my attention. “You’re speaking from experience.” She didn’t ask, merely stating it as though it finally dawned on her that we had experienced the same things. She’d lost her daughter; I’d lost my wife. We both had to pick up our pieces and keep moving. We both were walking around with broken hearts and souls. She lifted a trembling hand to my face, trailing her fingers over my cheek. I closed my eyes, leaning slightly into her touch. Other than holding her when she cried and at night, we didn’t touch. There wasn’t any romantic contact between us. I couldn’t put pressure on her when she just lost Gia. And I wasn’t sure I could give her what she needed.

  I knew she could give me what I needed.

  I was more worried about her. How would she recover? Losing my wife had almost done me in. It had almost crippled me emotionally. She’d lost her daughter. There was no comparison.

  “I’m sorry for what happened when you opened up about your wife.” I got lost in her eyes as she talked. “I shouldn’t have pushed you away when you were so vulnerable with me. I wanted to know you for a long time. I wanted to know what ghosts were haunting you. I should have been there for you.”

  “It’s a lot to process. I was an asshole,” I said, my voice low. “I shouldn’t have been so mean to you.”

  She moved a little closer, our noses almost touching. “Sometimes the emotions inside of me are too much to handle. I can’t find my way up from the depths. Sometimes I don’t even know what I’m feeling.”

  My heart wanted to leap out of my chest and meld with hers. Our broken pieces could form together to make a brand new one, one that was whole. My chest ached with the love I felt for her. I wanted to tell her, but my timing couldn’t be worse. Now wasn’t the time for declarations. Now was the time to keep her head above water so she didn’t drown.

  “I can’t compete with your wife, Roman. I’m not her. You found your one true love; how can I compare to that?”

  “You aren’t competing with her. You’re you. I like you for you.”

  “I don’t know who I am without Gia.”

  “You will. I’ll be here to help you.”

  With that, she closed the short distance between our lips and kissed me. It was full of so much emotion. I felt her sorrow, her desperation, her hopelessness pouring through me, threatening to strangle me. Her hand slid into my hair and fisted, grabbing me so hard it stung, but I welcomed the pain. It meant she was here, with me, right this moment. If all I had was right now, I’d take it. I’d take whatever I could get with her.

  The kiss never changed from anything but sweet and searching. It was as if the kiss could erase her pain. She clung to me and I clung to her, both of us reaching for comfort. I wanted to give her all of me, every unbroken piece of me that I could offer.

  She hummed against my lips before breaking our connection and resting her forehead against my chin. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

  “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

  “I think I should be alone for a little while.” She moved away from me, not meeting my eyes.

  “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “I need to find a way to be, don’t I? I kind of want to go lie down for awhile.”

  “I can stay if you need me.”

  She shook her head. “I need some time to think.
”

  I kissed her forehead, wishing she wasn’t pushing me away. “I’m right next door if you need me.”

  “Thank you,” she said, her voice wobbling.

  I left her, and part of myself, behind.

  CHAPTER 24

  Roman

  I SAT IN THE BACK of the church, giving Mia some space. Today had to be hard for her. Funerals were always painful, but it must be gut wrenching to bury your child. The pastor stood at the front of the church, speaking words of hope, words meant to give us faith in the afterlife and that Gia was in Heaven. Mia’s shoulders remained rigid, only shaking with the occasional sob. My heart went out to her. I’d give anything to hold her in my arms, to keep her broken pieces together.

  “Would anyone like to say anything?” the pastor asked. A few different people got up: nurses and those who had come to know her from the hospital, speaking sweet words about a little girl they helped take care of. Such a young, innocent life was lost when they hoped she would find a way back to life. After that, Mia turned, her eyes scanning the crowd until her eyes stumbled on mine. They glistened with unshed tears and I nodded, hoping to give her the encouragement she needed. She seemed to take a deep breath and rose from her seat. She got to the front of the church, her eyes red rimmed and swollen, her dark dress making her skin seem even paler. She wrung a handkerchief in her hands.

  “Gia’s life was short, tragically short.” Mia’s voice echoed through the church, her words dripping with sorrow and heartbreak. I heard sniffles from all sides of me. It was difficult to watch Mia struggle so hard. “It warms my heart knowing she touched people’s lives. I’m glad you’re all here to say goodbye to her. Most of you know her from after the accident. I don’t want to remember her that way. I want to remember the little girl who had the most infectious giggle. You couldn’t hear it without laughing yourself. Everything was an adventure to her, even going to get the mail. She’d grab my hand, smile beautifully, and we’d check the mailbox. If there was a leaf or a dandelion, she needed to kneel down and study it, wanted to count the petals even though she could only count to thirteen. If she missed a number, she’d look up at me, her eyes wide and say, ‘Uh oh, Mama. Start over!’ and she’d start back at one.