Total pages in book: 47
Estimated words: 46846 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 234(@200wpm)___ 187(@250wpm)___ 156(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 46846 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 234(@200wpm)___ 187(@250wpm)___ 156(@300wpm)
I’m aching for her. In a way, I never did for Rachael or any woman. In a way, I couldn’t before I met Lucy.
“It’s not true,” I say. “The truth is, Lucy…and you might hate me for this. I never loved Rachael.”
She gasps, her hand flying up as if to cover her mouth.
Then she lowers it, slowly, halfway.
“We conceived Anna early. She wasn’t a mistake. But she wasn’t planned. What was I going to do? Leave the mother of my child? No, I couldn’t ever do that. I saw the ups and downs my parents had. I assumed that explained how I was feeling. But I knew it was a lie, even then. I felt nothing. Neither did she.”
I trail off, my voice shuddering a little. But it doesn’t come from any remembered pain. It comes from right here, the fact I’m telling my woman this, speaking another woman’s name.
“I never felt this, Lucy,” I say. “What I feel for you. I didn’t think I was capable. But I stayed with Rachael. I did the right thing, or, at least, I took the best option I had.”
“Anna was happy,” Lucy says gently.
“Yes, she was,” I reply fiercely, so thankful for her comment I want to hug her, but there’s still that primal pulsing to contend with. “That’s what I always remember, how happy she was. She had no idea what was happening between her mother and me.”
“What was…but you don’t have to tell me.”
I look into her eyes, the acceptance there, the affection.
“Rachael was cheating on me,” I tell her.
Lucy gasps again, and I nod.
“She’d gotten hooked on these pills the doctor prescribed when she took a fall. It turns out he was giving her a secret supply… she was hooked. It was a sick arrangement.”
My voice is starting to shake as the true terror of the night returns to me, the pain I’ve never shared.
With nobody. Not even Bryce.
The pain I’ve tried to push so deep it doesn’t exist.
“That was the night I found out.”
My voice cracks, a sob trying to break through. It’s like all the emotion returns in one giant lump, dropped heavily onto me, as I picture Anna’s face. Her gentle, beautiful face.
“Oh, Logan.”
Lucy’s hand is on my shoulder. She squeezes down, and I feel all the support radiating from her.
I think of our children, how lucky they’re going to be, having a mother like Lucy.
Reaching up, I touch her hand.
“We had an argument. We never fought in front of Anna. But we did that night, and…and what happened, happened. Rachael left the house and took Anna with her. I was yelling after them, telling her she was in no state to drive.”
I swallow, clenching the fist of my free hand.
“She locked me in the goddamn house. She was in the garage with Anna. By the time I got around to the front, she’d already taken the car. I chased it down the street, but she was going too fast.”
I’m shaking all over now.
“I’ve never told anybody that before.”
“Logan, it’s okay. It’s okay.”
I’m unsure what happens, how it happens, or when.
But suddenly I’m crying. For the first time in over ten years, ever since I crawled out of the pit of grief Anna’s death put me in.
Lucy climbs over the seat and wraps her arms around me. She doesn’t say anything, just holds me as the tears burst out.
I cling to her, pressing my face against her chest as the tears won’t stop. They keep coming.
After what feels like forever I pull myself together.
I lean back, coughing another sob away, shaking my head.
“I haven’t cried in years,” I say. “I’m sorry.”
“Hey.” Lucy holds my shoulders firmly. “What did we say about the S-word? You’ve got nothing to be sorry for.”
“Lucy, you don’t understand. If we’d never had that fight….”
“And if we hadn’t run out of milk, Dad would still be here,” she snaps. “There are always what ifs. I won’t have this.”
“Have what?”
“You beating yourself up.” She’s blazing with passion now, sitting up in my lap, staring down at me. “It’s not right. You don’t deserve it. It’s not like you were driving the car. It’s not like you were driving high with your daughter in the car. Jesus, I can’t even imagine doing that.”
She trails off, wincing, as though she thinks I’ll be offended.
“Don’t worry. I can’t imagine doing it either.”
“It’s not your fault,” she says. “You can’t blame yourself.”
“I can,” I tell her. “I do.”
“But you couldn’t know.” She takes my face in her hands, making me look at her. “You understand that, don’t you? You had no way of knowing it would happen.”
“I should’ve called the cops,” I snap. “I was going to. But then….”
She sighs. “They called you.”
“Yeah.”
“What would they have done in such a short time? What could they have done?”
I let my head fall back on the headrest. Her hands slide down my cheeks, and she repeatedly braces herself on my shoulders.