He gets up, pacing the room, shaking his head, and muttering under his breath. Then he’s on his knees in front of me, taking my hands in his. “He knew, Ange. Ayden knew I loved you and that you loved me. He knew it when we were kids, and he sure as fuck knew it when he took you as his girlfriend. Why do you think he didn’t want to speak to me on the phone those times he called during college?” He arches a brow.
“Because he was pissed.”
He nods. “He suspected you and I were together or, at the very least, he anticipated it. Him catching us in bed that day wasn’t that big of a shock. Think back, Ange. Think to his reaction.”
“How can you say that?” I cry out, snatching my hands back and leaning away from him. “He was upset. He said he wanted us to leave him alone.”
“He also said he’d come home to tell you the truth. Haven’t you ever thought about what he meant?”
“I … in all honesty, no. I haven’t dwelled on that.”
He sits back up on the couch, sighing deeply, and his tone is resigned when he speaks. “No, of course, you wouldn’t have thought of that. You were already convinced of your guilt. You’d already meted out our punishment.”
Bile swells in my throat as his words offer a hint at his true emotions. He’s far angrier at me than he’s letting on. Not that I begrudge him or resent him his anger. He is perfectly entitled to it. I took matters into my own hands five years ago, and I cut him out of the decision-making process. I know I’d be angry if our positions were reversed. Before I can say anything, he turns anguished eyes on me.
“Look, I didn’t come here to argue with you. That’s not going to help either one of us. But I need you to at least try to look at it differently; otherwise, you’ll never be able to move past it.”
“I don’t know why we’re analyzing what he said that last day, because we’re never going to know what he meant. He took it to his grave.”
He throws his hands in the air, frustrated again. “That’s my exact point!” he yells, anger rearing its head again. He draws several quick breaths, forcing himself to regain control. His voice is quieter when he resumes speaking. “You’re right—we don’t know what he was thinking. You’re assuming he was upset about us and that’s why he did it. But I’ve spent years thinking about this as objectively as I can, and it just doesn’t add up. You said yourself once you became a couple he didn’t seem into it, and I know he knew we were in love, so why exactly would him catching us in the act propel him to kill himself? I think there was more we didn’t know.”
I’m quiet as I ponder his words. “Like him giving up football and joining the marines,” I say, voicing concerns I’ve had over the years.
He nods, and a hopeful light flickers at the back of his eyes. “I think we have to face facts, Ange. He didn’t confide in us about that, and I think there was other stuff he was hiding too. We didn’t really know him at the end, so how can we say we knew what was in his mind in that moment when he decided to take his own life?”
There’s a pregnant pause.
“How can we say he did that because of us?” His voice sounds choked as he takes my hands again. “We can’t say that, because we just don’t know. And you can’t continue to blame yourself for something that may have had very little or even nothing to do with you. With us.”
If ever there was a profound moment of clarity in my life, this is it. Perhaps, if I hadn’t fled all those years ago, I would have reached this eureka moment a lot sooner. “It might not have been my fault?”
He presses his forehead to mine. “It wasn’t your fault, babe. You’re not responsible.”
Dr. Bennett ended the session there. She felt we’d covered enough ground for one day. Devin agrees to come back tomorrow to continue the session. I walk him out to his car, and we’re both initially quiet, locked in our own thoughts. He toys with the keys in his hands as we walk side by side to the parking lot. “Are you okay after that?”
I pause briefly before responding. “Yeah, I think I’m more than okay.” I offer him a tentative smile. “That wasn’t as scary as I was expecting it to be.” Then again, I still haven’t divulged everything.
He stops, pulling me into his arms unexpectedly. I like it. I like it a lot. “I’m proud of you, you know.”
I rear back, shooting him an incredulous look. “I don’t see how. I haven’t done anything even remotely worthy of your praise or your pride.”
His answering smile almost blinds me. “Sure you have. You’re moving forward. I know from personal experience that it’s not easy to carve your heart and soul open and face your ugliest truths and your worst fears, but you’re doing it, and I’m proud of you for that.”
“Thank you,” I whisper, still not entirely sure I’m deserving of the compliment.
He holds me firmly at the waist as his eyes probe mine. Fear and uncertainty stare back at me. “Do you think you’re up to hearing one more confession?”
I frown a little. “There’s more?”
He nods. “I didn’t want to tell you this in there. I’ve never admitted this to another living soul and I wasn’t about to do it in front of her, but I need to get this off my chest before I lose my nerve.”
I shuck out of his embrace and take his hand. “Come on. We can talk on our bench.”
“Our bench?” he teases with a smile as we stroll across the lawn.
“Yeah. I’ve claimed it for us. It’s our new place.”
His face takes on a faraway expression. “I rebuilt the treehouse,” he blurts, startling me.
I slam to a halt. “Get out. You did not?!”
He grins, tugging me forward. “I did. When I’d go home, all the memories were so hard to deal with, but when I walked in the woods, I kept being drawn to that spot. Those were good times, Ange. Back then before everything turned to shit.”
I squeeze his hand. “They were the best times, and those memories have carried me through my darkest days. At times, they were the only things tethering me to this life.” He opens his mouth to speak, but I shut him down. I don’t want to think about those times now. Not when today feels like a new beginning. “Tell me about this new treehouse.”
He eyes me quietly for a minute, and then he smiles. And it’s like the sun emerging from behind the clouds, casting glorious warmth and light over everything it touches. That’s how I feel in this moment, bathed under the glow from Devin’s smile. “The two trees were still there, and withered planks of wood from our treehouse littered the debris on the ground. That’s when the idea came to me, and I spent a couple of months, coming down on weekends when I had spare time, building it. Danny helped a bit. We built it completely from scratch, and it’s an awesome job, if I do say so myself.” He puffs his chest out, and I laugh.
An awestruck expression flickers across his beautiful face. “You’ve no idea how amazing it is to hear you laugh.” We stop in front of the bench, looking at one another. He rests his hands on my lower back, pulling me in close to his body. “I was fearful I’d never hear that sound again,” he whispers.
“I didn’t think I could,” I whisper back, blown away by how far I’ve come in recent months. For years, I believed I was a lost cause, but Devin’s presence in my life again has reawakened my interest in living. Given me renewed hope. With his support, I think I can find the strength to finally move on. Tears stab my eyes as a surge of emotion hits me square in the chest. “I haven’t thanked you for everything you’ve done for me. I couldn’t do this without you.”
“You don’t need to. Getting you back is all the thanks I need.”
Butterflies swarm my chest, and my mouth feels dry, but I open up, speaking my mind. “What is it you want from me, Dev?”
He presses his lips to my forehead. “You. I just want you back in my life.”
“I can’t give you any big commitments. I’ve still a lot to work through, and I can�
��t even think about that until my head is firmly screwed back on.”
“That’s totally fine by me. I’m here in whatever capacity you need me. Just don’t cut me out. I can’t lose you a third time. I couldn’t survive it again.”
I push his head back, palming his cheek. “I promise I won’t leave. I can’t promise that I won’t get melancholy or low or retreat into a shell or become untalkative because that’s how I’ve coped these last few years, but I’m here to stay. And I’m truly happy you’re back in my life, Devin. I really missed you, and I’m so grateful you didn’t give up on me even if I’d given up on myself.” My voice quakes, and tears stream down my face.
He brushes his lips against mine, soft and fleeting, but my skin turns tingly from the brief touch, reminding me our connection is still very much alive. “I would go to the ends of the earth for you, Ange. There is no one more important to me than you.”
With his arm wrapped around me, he pulls me down onto the bench. We lean into one another, like magnets who can’t resist the natural pull. “There’s one more thing I need to explain. This isn’t going to help my cause, but you need to know everything.”
I nuzzle his shoulder. “There is nothing you can say that will turn me away. I promise.”
His chest swells, and his voice is terse when he speaks. “You remember the night Becky got attacked?”
I nod, and a sour taste pervades my mouth. “The night your father attacked her.”
He nods, his jaw rigid with strain. He doesn’t avert his eyes as he stares at me and admits, “I left her in the house with him knowing he was going to attack her.”
I draw upon every ounce of acting ability to keep the shocked horror from my face. “What? Why would you do that?”
“I’d done everything to hide my feelings for you, including pushing you into your house that night before he could read anything on my face. I told Becky to go home, and I stormed inside, dragging my father with me. He threw a punch, and I fell on my ass in the hallway. The front door was still open, and I knew Becky was watching.” He smooths a hand over his chest, and I snake my arm around his waist, squeezing tight.
“I had a lock on the outside of my bedroom door because I didn’t want that asshole in my room. Didn’t want him seeing all the drawings of you on my walls. He never seemed to care, but that night, he broke into my room. He’d seen it all. He knew. As I lay on my ass on the floor, he kicked me repeatedly while taunting me about you, telling me he knew you were alone in your house and he was going to pay you a little visit. I went crazy, jumped up and hit him, and we really got into it, lancing blows at one another. Then Becky appeared, screaming, trying to pull him off me. I saw it. The look in his eye when he swung his gaze around on her. He asked who she was, and she told him she was my girlfriend, little realizing what she was doing. I saw the gleam in his eyes, the need to exert control, to inflict pain.”
He looks away, pulling out of my embrace, and resting his head in his hands. I smooth a hand up and down his spine. I don’t speak, letting him do this his way, in his own time.
After a bit, he lifts his head up, torment brewing in his eyes. “I told him to take her. I said I wouldn’t tell if he agreed to leave you alone.”
I can’t keep the shocked look off my face this time. I open my mouth to speak but close it again. I have no words.
“He nodded his agreement, and I walked out of the house, ignoring Becky’s cries and pleas as he dragged her inside.”
His breath flies out in anguished spurts, while I clamp a hand over my mouth in horror. “I drove around to the back road to keep watch on your house. I wanted to make sure he didn’t renege on his deal. I saw him haul Becky out an hour later. She was flung over his shoulder, limp, and beaten to a pulp. He had two bags with him and I knew he was leaving.” A muscle clenches in his jaw. “I should’ve followed him. Gotten help for Becky, but I didn’t. I stayed outside your house until I was confident he wasn’t coming back. Then I went to the party and got wasted. Crashed there so I had an alibi.”
He disturbs the earth underfoot with the toe of his boot. “Now you know how truly black my soul is.” He gives me a wry smile. “And you think you’re not worthy of me.” He shakes his head.
I’m in complete shock, and I need time to process, but I can’t let that statement go unanswered. “Maybe that’s why we found each other again. We’ve both done things we’re not proud of. Things we would do differently if we could. What’s important is that we feel remorse, and I can tell you do.”
“I am remorseful,” he says, twisting around a little. “But I wouldn’t do it differently. Protecting you will always come first.”
“I’m not going to criticize you for that.” What he did was wrong. So very wrong, even if he believed he was doing it for the right reason, but it’s over and done with now, and he’ll be dealing with the guilt for the rest of his life. Besides, he did it to protect me, and I’m not going to start yelling at him for that. Who knows what might’ve happened if he hadn’t intervened. The thought makes me uncomfortable—that Becky suffered in my place—but I’m not going to pretend I’m ungrateful either. “And you can’t tell me not to blame myself for Ayden’s actions if you’re going to blame yourself for that night. You didn’t beat Becky up; that monster did.”
His eyes penetrate mine, and I see the conflict there. He wants to argue against my rationale, but he knows it’s an argument he can’t win. Instead, he says, “I thought you’d run screaming for sure after hearing this.”
“I see you, Devin Morgan. I’ve always seen you. I promised I’m going nowhere this time, and I meant it.”
“Thank God.” He hugs me to him, and we don’t talk for several minutes. My mind goes into overdrive, thinking of the secret I’m still keeping hidden.
“I went to see her a couple years ago,” he admits. “She’s married now with two kids. She went crazy when I appeared at the door. Threw a few things at me. Said if I darkened her door again she’d have me arrested. I never even got one word out.”
“That sounds like Becky, although I can’t fault her in any way for reacting like that.”
“Me either. And it was selfish of me to go there. I wanted to apologize and thank her for keeping it secret—the fact she had spoke volumes. He clearly terrorized her into keeping her mouth shut, and that only added to my grief. But I shouldn’t have gone near her, it wasn’t fair, and I was only thinking of appeasing my guilty conscience. I wasn’t thinking how my presence would affect her.”
I nod distractedly, the secret ready to burst free. “Dev?” I ask quietly.
He detects something in my tone. “Yeah?” His voice is cautious.
“I have something I need to tell you too. Do you think you can handle more of the heavy because this is going to be the heaviest of all?” My heart is jackhammering in my chest, about to take flight, and I think I’m going to be sick, but I need to purge the secret. He needs to finally know.
His face pales, and the intensity in his eyes sucks all the oxygen from the surrounding air. “Why do I get the sense this is going to destroy me?”
My hands shake. “Because it most likely will.”
He stares at me, as if he can delve into my mind and extract the words before I speak them. Our chests rise and sync in tandem, and you could cut the tension with a knife. “I want to hear it, because we can’t move forward until all the secrets are laid bare. Like you said to me, nothing you tell me at this point will scare me away.” He intertwines our hands. “We’re in this together. We always have been.”
A tear trickles out of my eye, and my voice is trembling as I rip the Band-Aid off. “I discovered I was pregnant four months after I left.”
Shock splays across his handsome face, and his skin looks leeched of all color. His eyes pop wide, and his gaze slams into me. “What?” he chokes out.
“I was pregnant with your child. He died,
” I whisper. Caustic pain rips through my chest, and the sobs start in earnest. Devin is shell-shocked, frozen stiff, and staring off into space. “I stopped drinking straightaway, the minute I found out, I swear, but it was too late.” Tears cascade down my face, and the shock on his face mixes with horror and confusion. “Our son was stillborn at birth,” I explain, openly sobbing now. “He looked so perfect, so beautiful, but I killed him. I killed him too, and as long as I live, I’ll never forgive myself for that.”
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
Devin
I can’t move. I’m frozen in horror, sitting there in absolute shock as her words filter in and out of my ears. A pang of sorrow and grief consumes me. I’m feeling all manner of things as Ange softly sobs beside me. I want to pull her into my side, to crush my arms around her and ease her pain, but I can’t.
Today has been exhaustive, and I’m drained. I worked hard to rein in my anger during the session, but I’m not strong enough to keep a leash on it now. My God. No wonder she was in such a bad place when I found her. She’s spent the best part of the last five years believing she killed two people she loved. While I’m upset she had to go through that alone, she had no right to cut me out.
It was my baby too.
“Did the doctors say it was connected to your drinking?” I inquire, not bothering to soften my gruff tone.
She shakes her head, sniffling. “They said he had a congenital heart defect, but I’ve always believed they said that to relieve my guilt. It’s like I’m cursed, or maybe that was God’s way of punishing me for Ayden.”
“Why didn’t you call me? I had a right to know.”
Wrapping her arms around her waist, she hugs herself, rocking gently back and forth on the bench. It hurts to see her like this, but I can’t comfort her. My own pain won’t allow it. A mounting sense of futility is growing inside me. “I picked up the phone to call you so many times,” she tearfully admits. “When I first discovered I was pregnant, my initial thought was to hop on a plane and jump into your arms, but I couldn’t make myself do it.” I close my eyes as she speaks, struggling to get a grip on my emotions. “I cried after every prenatal appointment. It always felt so wrong that you weren’t there with me. I promised myself I’d tell you after he was born. That I wouldn’t keep your child from you.”
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