Page 91 of Fight for You

And now January knows it too.

"When I got to him, he was still breathing," I whisper. "I couldn't…I couldn't make it stop. I couldn't keep him breathing." A groan climbs up my throat. "I failed you over and over again. Both of you."

She shakes her head, not speaking.

"I'm sorry," I whisper, knowing those words won't make a damn bit of difference. They won't unwind the hands of time and bring her brother and her mom back. They won't undo the years of grief and pain she's endured. I say them to make myself feel better, because at the end of the day, I'm still a selfish motherfucker and I need to say them, even if they don't do a goddamn thing to ease her pain. "I'm so fucking sorry, baby girl."

"Don't," she whispers. "Don't call me that."

My heart fractures, shredding into tiny pieces. Every single one of them cuts deep, making me bleed in places that have already been hemorrhaging for years. They hurt like a motherfucker…and that's almost a relief. This is the punishment I deserve. The one I ran from back then. So long as I didn't come back, there was always a little sliver of hope that she didn't truly hate me. That somewhere, she was lying awake at night, missing me too.

Now though? That hope is gone. I see it in her eyes.

Revulsion.

Abhorrence.

Hatred.

And this is what hell really feels like. This is what I'll remember when someone finally steps from the shadows to kill me. When my life flashes before my eyes, it'll be the expression on her face right now that chases me straight to hell.

"I need you to leave," she says, her voice shaking with emotion. She rises to her feet, all five foot, two inches of her stands up in front of me, her shoulders back and her head held high like the fucking goddess she is.

She doesn't cry.

She doesn't scream or yell or throw things.

Those grief-stricken, horror-filled emerald eyes meet mine as she points at the door. "I need you to go right now."

I don't try to fight her. How can I? She deserves this moment, and I'll be damned if I take it away from her. Instead, I jerk my head in a nod, grab my bag, and do what she says.

"I love you," I tell her as I stride across the room. I'm still selfish. I'm still greedy. With her, I always will be. "I'll always love you, January. And I'll always be waiting for you."

Until the day I die, I'll wait for her.

She doesn't say anything. Not that I expected she would. Not that I deserve it.

The door closes behind me with a quiet click. It echoes in my ears, sounding for all the world like the final nail slamming into place in my coffin.

Chapter Eighteen

January

The front door closes behind Cade with a soft click. His words echo in my ears, playing over and over in distorted patterns that leave me shaking and gasping for breath that just won't come. My stomach roils and pitches.

I clamp my hand over my mouth and stumble blindly toward the bathroom. My knees hit the tile floor and I cling to the porcelain bowl, vomiting up everything I've eaten today. It all tastes like stomach bile and ashes.

Cade. God, Cade.

"No," I whimper, choking and gagging as the walls I erected years ago to keep myself alive come tumbling down. Memories tear through me, each hitting with the force of a bomb blast. They hurt. Oh God, they hurt.

Cade's big body engulfs mine, keeping me safe from something I can't even comprehend as shot after shot explodes outside. I know something is wrong. I can feel it in my bones, but I don't understand. My mind refuses to let me put it all together.

He jumps to his feet and glass falls all around him. The sheer terror on his face has my breath stalling in my lungs. He barks at me to stay inside and then runs out the front door as the roar of an engine sounds outside.

I stumble to my feet and follow behind him, scared and confused. I don't understand what's happening.

I turn toward my house, looking for Cade. My mind lurches, trying to make sense of what I'm seeing.

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