Page 43 of Unbreak My Heart

I do what he says, still flustered by the surprise. Once I’m comfortable, he pulls a blanket from inside the stool and places it on my legs.

“What would you like to drink?”

“Water, please.” I don’t want alcohol to cloud my mind and make all this seem like even more of a dream.

“I’ll be back in a sec,” he says.

I want to say something when he limps away, but the blinding smile he sends my way has me keeping my mouth shut. Instead, I relax against the sofa frame and close my eyes, sending a prayer to Santa to make this my Christmas present. To make this my life.

“Here you are,” Gael says, and a bottle of water appears in front of me.

“Thank you.”

I pick my burger up and take a bite, and I can’t keep the groan inside when the taste of it hits my palate. I laugh when it’s followed by one coming from Gael.

“This is bloody good,” he says, and takes another bite, making me laugh again.

I take a bite of my own, because my stomach is craving it after the exercise we’ve had over the last few days.

“Where and how did you learn?”

I wasn’t expecting the question, and I don’t have a prepared answer, so I try to move away from the subject.

“I just did,” I say, but his raised brows tell me he’s going to dig deeper and that he knows me well.

“Okay . . . Did you do a course?”

“Nope. Yeah, kind of.”

“Mm,” is Gael’s answer to my confusing reply.

And because I know him, I’ll wait for him to dig deeper, until he’s satisfied with the answer.

“You’re very good at it.”

Surprised, I wait for more, but it doesn’t come. The lack of interest upsets me, even if I’m the one that doesn’t want to answer. He should be more interested in what I did after he broke my heart. And I know it’s unreasonable, because I’m being difficult, but I want him to make up for what he put me through.

“I started because I needed a place to hide when the bullying became too bad, and you weren’t there to help me.”

Fuck! This isn’t the way I wanted to tell him. I hate watching the light that’s come back into his eyes over the last couple of days die at my painful words.

“I . . .”

I don’t look at him, feeling ashamed and upset at the same time. My hunger is gone, so I put my burger down and pretend the flame of the candle has my full attention.

The silence in the room becomes so thick it’s nearly impossible for me to breathe. I wish I could take my words back, wish I could move on, and wish it didn’t hurt this much. But that’s not possible, because it does hurt, and I can’t let it go.

“I’m sorry.”

I appreciate the words, and the sentiment behind them, but they don’t change what I went through.

“It’s okay,” I say, because I really believe he’s sorry, but my heart’s not there yet.

“It’s not okay. I fucked up, but I didn’t know any better. I thought I was going to make a better life for the both of us. Instead, I made a mess.”

He’s said this already, and my mind understands and forgives, but my heart is upset and hurt, and it can’t let go yet.

I’m not sure why it’s hitting me right at this moment. Maybe because he’s safe, and he’s here with me, or maybe because I can finally face him and tell him how broken I was. How broken I am.

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