She breaks down, crying so pitifully it almost tears me apart, but I still don’t reach out to touch her. “When he was stillborn, I cried nonstop for a whole day. I wouldn’t let the doctors take him. I kept him close to my chest, and I hugged him all night until I had to let him go. I couldn’t call you then. I couldn’t tell you I’d failed you again. When they lowered his little coffin into the ground, I wanted to throw myself in after him. Another part of me died with Devin Junior that day.”
I don’t realize I’m crying until I turn to look at her, and I can barely see her through my tears. “You named him after me?” I croak.
She nods. “I had to name him so they could issue a birth and death certificate. Of course, I was going to name him after his daddy.”
Something shatters inside me. I jump up on shaky legs. My entire body is suffused with stress. “I can’t believe you shut me out of that. You had no right!” I yell, drawing fearful looks from a couple of girls passing by. “How could you not tell me? How could you think it would be okay to deny me all that? I should’ve been there with you! I should’ve been by your side for every appointment and holding your hand as you gave birth. I deserved to hold him too! I never even got that chance. You stole that from me too!”
Pounding footsteps approach. Ange is sitting rigidly still, silent tears coursing down her cheeks.
“You fucking left me! You tricked me and then you left. You didn’t just punish yourself that day. You fucking punished me too, and I’ve been in this hell with you all these years. I may look more together on the outside, but you aren’t the only one who’s been hurting. And now this!” I fling my hands in the air, as Dr. Bennett cautiously approaches with two security guards. “I can’t believe you kept your pregnancy from me. I can’t believe you went through it alone.” The level of despair and heartache I feel is incomparable to any other time in my life, and that’s saying a lot. The security guard takes my arm. “I need to escort you off the premises, Mr. Morgan.”
I shuck his arm away. “No need. I’m going.”
“Devin, please. I’m sorry!” Ange calls after me, but I don’t stop, don’t look back, sprinting toward my car. I get in, thrust the stick into gear, and floor it out of there, my heart torn asunder as I make the trip home.
I stare at the bottle of JD on my kitchen counter for a solid half hour, battling an internal enemy. The devil on my shoulder urges me to take a sip. Just one sip. One sip won’t hurt. One sip doesn’t count. You deserve it. She lied to you again.
I drop to the floor, pulling my knees into my chest, and sob like I haven’t sobbed since I was a little kid. When my tears dry, I call Michael. He’s a retired cop and an alcoholic like me. He’s been my sponsor since I started going to AA meetings, and I need him to help talk me off the ledge.
After our call, I empty the whiskey down the sink and toss the bottle in the trash. I need answers, and I won’t find them at the bottom of a bottle. I pick up my cell, punching in the familiar number. Nate answers on the first ring. “I need your help,” I tell him, and I start explaining.
A week goes by, and the craving for booze hasn’t dissipated, but I have managed to maintain control.
I didn’t attend the second session with Ange, and Dr. Bennett has been blowing up my phone. I’m still so fucking angry with her, but my heart hurts for her too—for enduring that all alone, for believing she had to suffer on her own.
I can’t wrap my head around the fact I was a father, and I didn’t even know it. I wonder what he looked like. Whether he had my eyes or her cute dimple. I’ll never know. I can’t ever get that time back, and I honestly don’t know if I can look at her the same for depriving me of the opportunity to hold my own child.
We’re such different people now, and I wonder if too much has happened for us to ever be happy.
Anger at Ayden has resurrected too, and I can’t help blaming him. His suicide set all this in motion. If he was here, I’d boot his selfish ass all over town. But he’s not, and I need to make some decisions. And fast. Ange is due to be released tomorrow, and I’m supposed to be picking her up.
I’m still undecided the next day, pacing the floor restlessly, warring with myself. “Fuck it!” I grab my keys, glancing at the clock and racing out of my rented apartment. I’m thirty minutes late pulling up to the front entrance, and Ange is just about to set foot in a taxi. I call out to her, and she whips her chin up. Leaving the engine running, I run to the taxi, thrusting a fifty at the driver. “Thanks, but I’ve got it.”
Her expression is impressively calm as she walks to the trunk and removes her case. I take it from her without a word, lingering as she wraps Dr. Bennett in a big hug. The doctor shoots me a cautionary look, and I get it. I’m supposed to be supporting her recovery, not making things worse, but I can’t shut my feelings off. This is a bolt out of the blue, and it’s totally shattered me.
We don’t speak as we drive to her old apartment. I follow her up the stairs and into her place. “Where’s Scott?” she asks, running her fingers along the thick layer of dust on top of the table.
“In prison,” I confirm. She stares at me, willing me to elaborate. “He assaulted a police officer, and he was physically abusive to you in public. Nate wasn’t the only witness. He’s gone away for twenty months.”
She purses her lips. “I guess I should feel something hearing that, but I don’t feel anything.” Leaning back against the table, she folds her arms, scrutinizing my face. “It’s okay if you hate me. I understand why, and you don’t need to hang around. I’ve made my decision. I’m going home to see Mom, and I’m going to get my life back on track. You’ve done more than enough, and I won’t ask you for anything else. I can take it from here.”
“I don’t hate you. Maybe it’d be easier if I did.” I press my knuckles against my brow. “But I’m still pissed at you, and I’m still processing.”
She nods before walking off. I hear her rummaging around in her room, and then she returns with a battered, faded blue box. She drops down on the couch, patting the space beside her. “Sit with me?”
My heart is thrashing around in my chest as I walk to her side and cautiously sit down.
“Before I show you this, I need you to understand something. I was wrong to keep my pregnancy from you, to keep our son from you. I wish I had made better decisions, but I was in agony, Devin, and not thinking straight. I thought the pain I felt after Ayden’s death was the worst pain I’d ever felt, but I was wrong, because it paled in comparison to the pain and grief I felt after the loss of our son. After DJ died, I pretty much gave up on life. Not a single day passed where I wasn’t consumed with thoughts of him. His beautiful little face was the first image I saw in my mind’s eye when I woke every morning and the last vision before I fell asleep at night. It got to the point where I feared going to bed and I hated waking up because the pain was too much. I couldn’t bear it.” She runs a hand over her chest. “His loss accelerated my downward spiral, and I sunk into a deep depression. I started drinking again, and drink was the only thing getting me through each day.”
An errant sob flies out of her mouth, and she looks away, her eyes burning with years of self-loathing and pain. Tentatively, I place my arm around her shoulder, and when she looks up at me with so much vulnerability and pain, more of my anger fades, helping to put things in a different perspective. “I’m sorry for the way I reacted last week. It was such a shock, and it was hurt speaking. I hate that you went through all that alone, that I wasn’t there to support you with it, and I know you would never consciously exclude me. And it’s not like I haven’t made plenty of mistakes. That I don’t have my own dark secrets. I had no right to judge you as I did, and I’m sorry.”
She smiles, but it’s sad. “It’s okay. I totally get it, and I don’t blame you for your reaction.” She leans in, kissing my cheek, and I hold her to me for a couple seconds. She pulls back. “I have something to
show you.” Drawing a deep breath, she opens the box carefully, and my heart starts pounding anxiously. She removes a small bunch of photos and hands them to me. Tears are streaming down her face. “I got the nurse to take some pictures because I didn’t want to forget what he looked like.”
With shaking hands, I look through the pictures. “My God,” I exclaim, running my finger over the image. He looks so small, but so perfectly formed. His dark hair is thick. I don’t know much about newborns but I didn’t think they had that much hair. His eyes are closed, and he’s resting in Ange’s arms, as if he’s asleep. The devastation on her face is plain to see, and walls come crashing down around me.
“What color were his eyes?” I whisper, flipping to another photo. This one is of my son on his own, swaddled in a pristine white blanket, tucked neatly in a crib.
“Green,” she rasps, snuffling. “He was all you, Devin. I didn’t recognize a bit of myself in him.”
Intense pain explodes in my stomach, and I can scarcely speak. “Where is he buried?”
“In the local cemetery. I can take you, if you want.”
I find myself nodding, and we leave her apartment, making the short fifteen-minute journey to his graveside in silence. When I see his name in big letters on the tombstone, I fall apart, collapsing on my knees in front of my son’s grave as shuddering sobs wrack my entire body. Ange is crying beside me too, and I reach for her, pulling her into my arms. We cling to one another, on our knees, crying rivers.
I don’t know how long we stay there, but it’s getting dark by the time we’ve both stopped crying. I stand up, pulling her with me. I brush the dirt off the knees of her jeans. “It’s not your fault he’s dead, and I don’t want you to blame yourself. I spoke to the doctors this week.”
“You did?”
I nod. “Nate didn’t find anything on our son when he conducted his initial investigation, but I’m guessing you know that.” She nods her head curtly. “You paid someone to bury the records, didn’t you?” Again, another terse nod. “It’s okay. I know you did that to protect me.”
“I did,” she says in a meek voice. “I knew there was a chance you’d find me one day, and I didn’t want you finding out about DJ from anyone but me.”
“I appreciate that. I’d hate to have found out in such a brutal way.” Air whooshes out of my mouth, and my chest feels tight. “Anyway, I’ve done a lot of soul searching this past week, and Nate dug deeper, and we found the hospital records, so I paid a visit.”
She looks petrified, and I pull her into my arms, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “It’s okay, baby. They said no one knows definitively why these things happen, and that it wasn’t anything you did. He did have a heart defect, but it was as a result of a chromosomal abnormality that could not have been prevented, and that’s what killed him. You are not responsible for his death.”
She breaks down again in my arms, and I hold her close, tears stinging the backs of my eyes. No one should have to endure the suffering she’s endured.
When her crying subsides, I take her hand and lead her back to the car. Once she’s settled in, I buckle myself into my seat, but I don’t start the engine. I look over at her, at the woman I’ve loved virtually my whole life, and I’m so tired of all the hurting and the pain. I hate the mistakes she’s made, but I know she was trying to do what she thought was right, and I also know she wasn’t in the right frame of mind to make good decisions. I’ve known her since she was a little kid, and she’s inherently good. She’s just lost her way. We both have, but I want to make it right. There will be time to work through all our issues, and I believe we can do it, because I love her enough to find a way to get through it. I take her hands in mine. “I forgive you. For everything.”
She eyes me warily. “How can you?”
“Because I love you.”
“It’s not that simple.”
“No, it’s not. Nothing about us has ever been simple, but I love you enough to keep fighting, if you can promise to do the same.”
“This here,” she whispers, fighting tears again. “This is what I mean. I’m not worthy of you.”
“You’ve made some shitty decisions, Ange, but you’re still you. You’re still the same sweet girl I fell in love with all those years ago.”
She swipes at her tears, and a look of defiance crosses her face. “Devin, I don’t know what I did to deserve you, but you are the only man I’ve ever loved like this. The only one I ever will. I’ll love you until my dying breath.”
I pull her over into my lap, wrapping my arms around her, and some of the stress releases. We’ve a huge way to go, but I have faith in us.
Faith that love will be enough this time.
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
Angelina
I pack up the rest of my stuff over the next couple days and stop by the diner to say goodbye to Cara and the girls. Devin has already made arrangements for my apartment and my car to be sold, so there’s little left for me here now. I don’t like leaving our son behind, but Devin assures me he’ll find a way to bring him closer.
The walls between us are dropping, and his unflinching support is comforting. I’ve slept at his place the last two nights, in his bed, in his arms. Nothing sexual happened. We didn’t even kiss. Neither of us are ready for that yet, but I slept in his embrace, and it’s been the best sleep I’ve had in years.
When we step off the plane in Iowa, his father and Lucas are waiting to greet us. I almost keel over as Luc runs toward me. When I left, he was only a kid, but he’s all grown up now, and so much like his older brother. He draws me into his arms without hesitation, swinging me around, and I laugh. When he places my feet on the ground, he continues to hug me, and it’s kinda getting embarrassing.
“I didn’t just find her for you to squeeze the life out of her,” Devin quips, unwrapping his brother’s arms from around my waist and hauling me back into his chest.
“Good to see you’re still a possessive, jealous freak around Ange,” he replies with a wink.
Jim steps forward then, patting my shoulder and cupping my face. “I’m far too afraid of him to chance a hug,” he teases, his eyes shining happily as he looks over my shoulder at his other son. “But it’s fantastic to see you again, Angelina. Your mother is going to be so happy.”
My smile cracks. I want to see Mom so badly, but I’m terrified too. I abandoned her, and I’m so ashamed. She did nothing to deserve that kind of treatment from me. Jim changes his mind, pulling me into his arms. “She won’t judge you, sweet girl. She’ll just be happy to have you back.”
“You didn’t say anything, right?” Devin asks.
Jim relinquishes his hold on me, shaking his head. “No. I was in too much shock this morning when you called to even consider it anyway.”
“This morning?” I look back at Devin.
“I couldn’t tell anyone about you yet. If I’d told them when I first found you, they would’ve been on top of you straightaway, and … well—”
“You didn’t want them to see me like that,” I supply for him.
“Are you mad?”
“Are you kidding me?” I twist around, placing my hands on his chest. “I didn’t want them to see me like that either. You made the right call.” I kiss his cheek. “Thank you.”
Lucas wraps his arm around my shoulder, bombarding me with questions as we walk to the waiting Mercedes. Devin gets in the back beside me, and Lucas hops in the other side. Jim drives us to a massive three-story house in a secluded area of a plush, quiet neighborhood on the outskirts of Minneapolis. “Welcome home,” Devin whispers in my ear, holding my hand and pulling me up the front steps. Jim and Lucas retrieve our luggage from the trunk and join us inside.
Devin gives me a whistle-stop tour of his lavish mansion, while Jim orders takeout. We sit at the long dining table, which overlooks the stunning landscaped lawn outside,
while we eat and chat.
After they’ve gone, Devin runs me a bath, and I soak in the tub for an hour. When I emerge, swaddled in a comfy bathrobe with red cheeks and wrinkled skin, he’s waiting for me, an anxious look on his face. “I’m wondering where you want me to put your stuff?” He gestures with his arm. “I have plenty of guest bedrooms. You can have your pick, or you can stay with me.” He shrugs, attempting to make the gesture casual, but I know him too well.
“I like sleeping with you,” I admit truthfully, “and I want to share your room, but I don’t want to complicate things. We’re making progress, but I don’t think we should rush it.”
He’s not happy, but he doesn’t push me. I choose a soothing green room just down the hall from the master suite, and Devin leaves while I unpack. An hour later, I join him downstairs in the living room. The TV is on mute in the background, and he’s dressed in sweats and a plain T-shirt, lounging on the couch with a laptop in his lap. He puts it aside when I enter the room, smiling warmly at me. He jumps up, kissing the tip of my nose. “I like having you here.”
“I like being here.”
“Would you like some hot chocolate?”
“That sounds great.”
We drink our yummy chocolaty drinks in his homey kitchen, chatting about my mom and talking through my ideas to return to college. Devin wholeheartedly supports my plan, and he’s quick to offer to fund it, but I won’t hear of it. He can’t swoop in and fix everything. Not when I need to learn to stand on my own two feet, without any crutches.
We go to our separate bedrooms, and I lie awake for a couple hours worried and nervous about the next few days. In three days, we’ll travel to Mason City for Christmas. I’m so excited to see my mom, but I’m petrified too. She doesn’t know I’m coming yet. She thinks she’s hosting Christmas dinner for Devin and his family. Jim is going to call her Christmas morning and tell her the good news. It seems they’ve become close friends during my absence, and he fed me some tidbits over dinner earlier. I was pleased to hear she’s still with Jon—Dr. Williams. Knowing she wasn’t alone goes some way toward assuaging my guilt.
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