Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 95906 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 480(@200wpm)___ 384(@250wpm)___ 320(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95906 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 480(@200wpm)___ 384(@250wpm)___ 320(@300wpm)
To hide.
To do anything but fucking feel.
I didn’t make it past his bedroom door.
But not because Con stopped me. The man was finally letting me go. It was what I wanted. What I’d always wanted.
Right?
Then why couldn’t I fucking move?
I glanced down at the piece of paper in my hand—the one giving me my freedom. I could choose any path now. Christopher and Rory were my entire life, and no one could take them from me ever again. There would be no more Rickys or Barrys. The kids wouldn’t have to live in a constant state of fear.
Neither would I.
We were safe. We were free. Thanks to Con, the kids and I could go to Alaska or we could disappear in some no-name town in the middle of nowhere—
I stopped abruptly as the words sank in.
We could disappear…
“No,” I whispered in disbelief. My hands shook violently as I stared at Con’s door. The one I was about to walk through.
My already thrumming pulse began to pound so hard that I could feel it in my temple. Pain slashed through my chest as the truth hit me.
He had been worried about what he needed to tell me.
“You thought I’d leave,” I said in disbelief. “You thought I’d leave,” I repeated, louder this time because the shock was so great that I needed him to confirm it.
I forced myself to turn around and saw that Con had moved so he was now standing on the actual balcony. His fingers were curled around the railing. Even in the falling darkness, I could see that he was gripping the metal hard.
I’d done that to him.
I managed to put one foot in front of another even as pure panic began to trickle through my system. What had I done?
“Con,” I began as I stepped out onto the balcony.
“Don’t, Micah. Just fucking don’t,” Con said tiredly.
“You thought I’d leave when you gave me this,” I said as I held up the piece of paper. “That’s what you were worried about. That’s why you wanted to wait until the kids had gone to bed. Not so you could end things with me, but because you were afraid I was going to end things with you.”
Con didn’t respond but he didn’t need to. The truth was written in the way he was holding himself. I’d allowed my fear and insecurity to win out over my faith in the man before me and had left him with yet more wounds to deal with.
Everything he’d done from the moment he’d crashed through the front door of my shitty house and pulled Ricky off me had been for me.
To protect me.
To save me.
I opened my mouth to tell him he wouldn’t have lost me, but then realized it didn’t matter. I’d lost him.
From the moment I’d given in to my doubts about being good enough for Con, I’d lost him. He’d proven how much he loved me over and over again, but the moment my love for him had been tested, I’d failed that test.
I hadn’t fought for him like he’d deserved.
Like he’d needed.
I numbly lowered myself so I was sitting on the edge of one of the numerous chairs that lined the balcony which ran the length of most of the apartment. “Tell me what to do, Con,” I whispered. “Tell me how to keep from losing you.”
He didn’t.
He didn’t tell me how to keep him in my life, he didn’t look at me, hell, he didn’t even acknowledge my presence.
I looked down at the piece of paper in my hand. It felt like it weighed a thousand pounds. “I don’t want to do this without you,” I whispered. “We were… we were supposed to be a family.”
Visions of the life I’d just thrown away flashed in my head, one after another.
Waking up every morning in Con’s arms.
Little Rory running into the room and jumping on the bed Christmas morning because Con and I were taking too long to get up. Right behind her was Christopher carrying a pudgy toddler with bright cheeks, dark eyes, and hair that was so black it almost looked blue, just like his father’s.
Con’s fingers enfolding mine as we watched Christopher graduate from high school. Then his strong arms wrapping around me in comfort as we dropped our son off for his first year of college.
Big family celebrations for holidays and birthdays followed by more intimate ones between just the two of us.
Every image had Con in it because it was where he belonged.
With me.
“I’m sorry,” I managed to choke out as I climbed to my feet. “I’m so sorry,” I repeated, but I wasn’t sure I managed to get the apology out completely because a sob chose that moment to rack my body and it was all I could do to try and contain it. As much as I wanted to mourn my loss then and there, I knew Con deserved better than that.