“When did you divorce?”
“That was what I was waiting on before I found you.” Those nine fucking months I can’t take back, but the day I signed the paper, I still wasn’t free from the hold Krystal had on me. I didn’t get it then—I thought I would, but I didn’t. It’s because I wasn’t ever Krystal’s even when we were married, even when we made a child, she never held anything on me. I’m Hads’s, always was since the first damn minute I spotted her.
Always will be.
“It took you that long?” Hadley’s voice is flat. So damn flat, any emotions she has are locked inside her, hiding from me.
“I didn’t think…”
“That’s always the problem, Reed. You don’t think. You didn’t when you left years ago, not once when you were chasing your dreams. And certainly not when you came back, because if you did, you would have thought what would happen if I found out from someone other than you.”
“Please, babe, understand this. I fucked up. I’m a fuck up, it’s what I’m great at. But I swear, nothing else is hidden. It’s all here; nothing lays between us on my side. We could start over, clean slate.”
“God, it’s like all those months we were together last year…everything you told me were lies. Your mouth was filled with nothing but lies. Funny, though, it’s just a single one, but it’s the one that really ever mattered. Did you ever think about telling me?”
“When I would open my mouth, I always chickened the fuck out, then with your mom being sick, it never seemed like the best time. I found out you lost our baby, and then after that, with all the other shit that happened, I couldn’t. I didn’t want to see you break any more, because when you break, it kills me. I want to say I would have told you if you didn’t find out, but I don’t know. I didn’t want to let you down, and I didn’t want to see your face when I told you that I was married. Especially to the person I was married to. It was always supposed to be you that I was going to marry, and I ruined that. It was always supposed to be you that should have my last name. You—you that was supposed to be wearing a white dress walking down the aisle in some church, or on the damn beach, or wherever the hell you wanted to do it. It wasn’t supposed to be me with someone I forever regret meeting and don’t remember.” These secrets we had, that I had controlled the last few years between us, ruined what could have been, what really should have been, because I was too scared it would ruin me.
Hads nods, stands up from the chair. Her shoulders tremble with each tear that falls down her face. She takes a tiny step farther away from me. “I wish you would’ve given me the chance to find out from you, but I should have asked you when I heard. I’ll own that mistake, because if I had, maybe we could have salvaged something. Anything. Maybe.”
“I know, babe.” And fuck, do I ever.
We stand only a few feet away from each other, but we could have been across the world with how far off our connection is. We stay quiet for too damn long, too lost in our own thoughts about what went wrong between us. But the answer is right in front of us—we are what went wrong. I am what went wrong. She fell in love with the wrong person, but that love will stand when we can’t.
Hadley’s face is wet and her eyes are red from her tears, tears caused by my damn truth. “We are fucked beyond repair, you understand that, right?”
“Not so fucked we can’t get past it.” I move to her and cradle her face in my hands, ignoring her flinch from my damn touch, and I wipe the tears with my thumb. The second my hands drop away, she loses it, falling into me.
“I still love you, so damn much, Reed. I wish I didn’t sometimes, because it hurts so damn bad. Loving you hurts me. It kills me. Us together isn’t right, those things behind us, and the stuff that still stands ahead of us. We aren’t strong enough to get past it. To move on together.”
I kiss her forehead and wrap my arms around her. “Babe, we may not be, but our love is what’s strong enough. Don’t you understand that if it wasn’t, our love wouldn’t still be holding onto us? Because, Hads, my love fucking grows each day for you while you’re next to me, in my arms, or living in some God damn jungle. Otherwise, it wouldn’t be there at all.”
“That’s the thing, what we had wasn’t—isn’t—even close to being healthy. It’s not right to love as much as we did. Or you do.”
“Who says?”
“Me, because, Reed, I don’t need you any more. I can survive without you now. I found that out.”
“Babe…” I’ll bargain with the damn devil for her to be with me, for her to understand what she means to me, and to have her next to me for the rest of my life.
“No, Reed, I can’t go there, not now, and maybe not ever. I’m not right. I still got shit in my head, and that’s not all your fault, but it’s still there. It’s this stupid damn rabbit hole we go down every time we decide to get back together, and this time, no magic pill will be there to pull me back out.
“I’m different now. I’m by myself and learning things about me that I didn’t know, and I don’t want to compromise that for any relationship right now, even with you. You and I both know if we start this up again, I will be back in your bed, your home before I step foot on a plane, and I don’t... Reed, I can’t do that now, and I can’t ask you to wait for me to figure it all out, either, because when I get over this mountain of a mess, I’m not sure who I’ll be on the other side.”
“Hads, babe, we can do this together if you just give it a shot. We can go as slow as you want, take as long as you need.”
One simple shake of Hads’s head and I know what she’s going to say before my girl speaks. That, at least, hasn’t changed. “No. My lesson for using people to make me feel better has been taught a couple of times, and this time, I’m going to listen to my head.” Hads trails her fingers down my neck, stands on her tiptoes and places a soft kiss on my cheek. Her jaw is set just like her damn mind when it comes to us. “I love you and that never has changed and never will, but it’s just not enough for me, not enough for you or us right now.”
“Why does this feel like goodbye?” I question, because this feels like the damn end to the Reed and Hadley love. But I won’t let her go if it is, yet my desire to flee comes stronger with each thud in my chest.
“Like I said when we first started talking, I want your friendship now. I look forward to our talks, but you need to decide if you can really handle that right now, and if you can’t, I understand. Either one you choose, it’s not goodbye. It will never be goodbye with us. You truly are one of the best parts of me,” she states pure and simple, her words leaving me with nothing else to say. Nothing to convince her that she’s wrong. Nothing to get her to stay.
A shit ton of nothings.
Hadley grabs her purse, pauses for only a split second, and with one lone glance over her shoulder at me, Hads escapes.
The door echoes as it slams shut. She just walked away from this talk with the damn truth but not with me. I, however, am dying. Fucking painfully so. Each breath is a puncture against me. Each moment here left with my thoughts is agony. Because the words she “doesn’t need me anymore” lingers in the damn air just like her scent.
It was the only thing left. The only thing I held onto when she was gone. The thing I wanted, and the thing she can’t or won’t give me.
Finished.
Done.
Drained.
All my fucking life I have fought, stolen, or clawed my way to get what I wanted, and I’ve gotten it. It wasn’t ever easy, but I had it, I did it. I never backed down. I never turned away. And those things—they couldn’t make me whole, only I thought they could.
The hard slap to my face, the only thing I can’t fight or steal away, is my girl. Because you can’t steal something that’s fucking lost to the person wanting to take it. And you can’t fight someone that has already forfeited the fight.
We are all just fighting to stay.
I fall down on the couch, my whole body a fucking limp rag, and the shame of what I did, an
d Hadley’s damn disappointment, fills me. It’s all too much to cope with now. I zone in on the flashing lights of Vegas off in the distance and wonder what can be done to stop this mess, to find another way into Hads’s soul again.
It takes me a couple of minutes to process the sound of my phone ringing over and over, and even longer to get the will to move and answer it. “Laura, fucking not now. Don’t yell at me. It had to be done.”
“I’m not calling for that, even though I had to fend off calls from the league all damn day. I wanted to see how Hadley took it.”
“How’d you know?”
“Don’t I always? When is the wedding?”
“There isn’t going to be one.”
“What? No way. Did you tell her everything? I mean the reason why?”
I grip my phone tight and get the urge to crawl through it, just to rip her phone away so she would stop all the talking. “Fuck, Laura, ease up. You were right when you told me it was already too late.” I’m met with silence on her end, silence from Laura, because she wanted and believed a happily ever after between us would happen. She thought love could power over all.
“Reed…”
“Listen, I’m going to go work out for a little while and then go to bed. The trial starts early.”
“You’re still going?”
“No question. Hads may not need me anymore, but that hasn’t stopped me from fucking wanting to be there if she does.”
I don’t like this room; it’s dark, cold, and dreary.
I don’t like anything about this courthouse; it’s depressing, suffocating, and stuffy.
I’m beginning to not like anything about this god-awful state. It has a spell on me. And not the good kind.
I prayed for them to take the plea, any plea if they admitted what they did. And I don’t know why I’m surprised that Bennett and Crotch Rot both tore the deal up and chucked the scraps in their lawyer’s face. They’ll never do anything to make life easy or right. So instead, I’m glaring down at a single piece of paper that gives me a felony but with that comes a good chance to nail Bennett and Krystal for everything they did. That’s how the eye of justice really prevails.
To think I woke up this morning with some satisfaction, ready to tackle the stand, head on straight with some vindication, and equipped to answer the questions they were going to throw at me. Because nothing stood between the truths of what really happened with Crotch Rot and Reed. But when I stepped in the building today and saw the faces of those involved in the case, my confidence slipped away the closer I moved and I knew I had another hurtle to jump over.
But that’s life, that’s the life I picked when I did these things.
“Ms. Thomas, it’s my duty to inform you that you are not required to proceed in this manner. However, should you choose to do so and agree to this plea, the defense has nothing to hold over you with not being charged for your part in what happened,” Peter, the assistant prosecutor states to me.
“Thank you, I understand.” And I do. Doesn’t mean I like it or want it, but I do understand it.
The door crashes open, and my dad pushes through, his skin flushed as he stares down at the plea document. I have the pen in my hand, poised over the paper and ready to sign it.
He points his finger in Peter’s face. “You assholes can’t find another way? You guys are fucking lawyers. Find another way. This is going to ruin her. Work for the people, my damn ass.” He spits out his words, rough and abrasive, his whole body on fire with his wrath.
Poor Peter cowers in his seat, avoiding my dad’s look at all cost. If he only knew my dad and what he could really do for me.
I place my hand on Dad’s arm, my eyes filling with tears. “Dad, it’s okay. Really, it is. No jail time, and my appointments with Graham count as my rehab.”
His face goes soft in an instant. He gazes down at me, his eyes shining, ready to spill tears for me. Dad places his large hand on my check. “Baby girl, you know what that means?” His voice is ten times gentler with me than mere seconds before, as he pulls out the seat right next to me.
“I know, Daddy.” And boy do I, this paper—one single paper—on this metal table will end all my chances of ever being a nurse again, end my chances to work anywhere except my parents’ business. Because I will have a felony, a fucking felony on my record, one that will follow me for a lifetime any time someone looks into my past. Who is going to want to hire me with that huge blemish on my record? Drug overdose is one thing but add it to this and it’s a disaster in the making.
One choice, one turn, ruined everything for me. It’s all over. My degree means nothing; my hours spent doing what I love is finished.
Done.
Over.
My dream job packed away.
I have to own up to all my consequences, good or bad, and this is the worst one.
I focus on the paper that holds a huge chunk of my future and sign it before I have more doubts. This is what I deserve to go through, what I earned when I turned my back on the wrong type of paradise.
My daddy takes the pen out of my hand, tucks me into his side without a single word said and lets me shed my tears on his shoulder. He knows nothing can be said, nothing can be done to resolve this.
No amount of his money will change this outcome.
“Ms. Thomas, is it correct that the day you claim my clients drugged you, you were already in possession of narcotics, and in fact, already using them?” He adjusts his two-hundred-dollar tie and smirks at me.
“Yes.” I place my hands on my lap, my shoulders set tall, my face relaxed. Everything on the outside screams confidence, but my insides are cowering from being in the hot seat with Bennett and Krystal only a short distance away.
“And you have not been charged, correct?”
“No, that is not correct. I was charged and pled guilty to a felony.” This little weasel steps back, and it gives me some satisfaction that I surprised him. He bends down, his expensive shoes shining in the overhead lights. Bennett holds up something and the douche canoe whispers in his ear with an all-too calm demeanor.
He places a hand on the wooden stand in front of me and pinches his brows together, studying me. “Ms. Thomas—Hadley. May I call you that?”
The word no plays on the tip of my tongue, but I bite it back down. The jury wouldn’t like that snotty part of me. “Yes, sir, you may.”
“So, let me get this straight… You found out about the marriage between Mr. Collins and Ms. Duncan the night of December eighth, correct?”
“Yes, sir. The night of the party for Reed’s belt.”
“And you were in a relationship with Mr. Collins?”
“Yes.”
“You were in love with him?”
Peter yells “Objection” only for the judge to let it go.
“Yes, I was.” I am.
“So, if you were in love with him, this hurt to hear he married someone else?”
My shoulders sag and I bounce my knees. Hurt isn’t necessarily a strong enough word to describe how it felt. “Correct.”
“Is this payback on Ms. Duncan because she married Mr. Collins?”
I grimace and shake my head. I wish I could make this up. “No, it’s not. This happened to me.”
He nods, inspects a piece of paper he’s holding, and then taps it. “It’s your father that was there when they captured Mr. Norton and Ms. Duncan?”
I say no at the same time Peter stands and roars an objection.
“Your Honor, I will get to the point in the next few questions,” the skinny weasel says with an edge to his words.
“I’ll allow it for now, but if I feel it’s irrelevant later, I will have it stricken from the record.”
“I understand, Your Honor. Now, Hadley, you’ve just admitted your father wasn’t there when my clients were captured?”
“No, he was with me when the police arrived.”
“That’s interesting. Are you sure about that?” He raises one eyebrow.
“Yes, he never left my side after I woke.”
“Well, it seems you are either lying under oath, or someone has been lying to you. Now, Hadley, you are adopted, is that correct?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Have you ever seen your birth certificate, or any pictures of when you were a baby?”
“No, sir. I don’t have any pictures, and I have not seen my original birth certificate, only the one that states my adopted parents are my legal parents.” My insides are a mess because they have it—I know where he is going with this. I just know. What he holds in his lanky fingers is something I have never had the urge to find out.
“So you have never seen these?” He hands me two pictures and my old, worn, original birth certificate.
The prosecutor stands up and speaks, but his words breeze past me like air. I’m locked on the names on the document. My eyes are like a game of ping pong as I inspect the first picture, then the other one, then back to the first one. The need to be violently sick on the stand comes with each blink of my eyes.
Right here in bold print, in my shaky, sweaty palms, is my truth. Both pictures are clear as day—they are my parents, the ones that only supplied me with their DNA. My father’s name is in front of me in black and white. I scan over to the picture of me being held by him, and the other picture with his hand over the belly of who must be my mother. They gaze at each other with love in their eyes. I shift my attention back to the names. The names of my parents. And chills course through my body as if I just stepped into the Arctic. Father—Mark Thomas. Mother—Andrea Clark.
I stare into the gallery. I hone in on the man that raised me, the father who never let me down, my daddy who has held me in his arms more times than not, but that’s not him now. It’s blemished and everything about my family now feels destroyed.
Fighting to Stay (Fighting Madly Book 2) Page 11