Page 75 of It's Always Us

“Lex . . . ” he breathes out, his head dropping and his voice shaky. “Dammit.”

I cross my arms over my chest, suddenly feeling very exposed. He wasn’t supposed to see that. “It was all I had.”

He stands, anger and confusion filling his sharp features, still gripping the holey, threadbare shirt. “Why? Why did you leave me? I waited every day to hear from you.”

My voice catches in my throat. I don’t know what to say. Nothing will make it better.

I shake my head, staring at the floor. “I couldn’t.”

He steps closer. “What does that mean?”

I search for the only part of the truth I know for sure and force myself to face him. “I would’ve rather lived without you than have you stay here. Nothing here would’ve been good for you.”

His warm, rough hand slides against my cheek. “You were here. I would’ve stayed. I would’ve come back.”

“I know! That couldn’t happen,” I say, honestly, because it couldn’t. It would have destroyed him, slowly, one day at a time.

“I don’t understand.” His shoulders drop, his tall frame sagging, and I hate myself a little more.

I step into him and slide my arms around him, wanting to protect him just like I had then from anything that could hurt him. He suffered enough to last a lifetime. Only I’m afraid I might’ve hurt him the most.

I run my thumb across the black script on his ribs. “I meant it when I said it. Every word.” It’s the best I can do. I rest my head against him, holding him tight, but he doesn’t say anything. “I’m not wearing that shirt tonight.”

His arms come around me, wrapping me up. “You’re not wearing that damn shirt ever again. You’re coming with me.”

Chapter 23

MARK

I blink and gently roll my stiff, sore shoulder. I blink again, the early morning light barely filtering through the white curtains. I stretch, brushing against the warm, soft skin pressed against mine.

Her clean scent surrounds me as I force my body to come alive. I glance down at her peaceful face against my bare chest. I carefully move a small strand of hair and tuck it to the side.Everything I could ever want.

When I found my old shirt lying in a pile on the floor, so worn and filled with holes, it almost broke me. All this time, she kept it and wore it, but why? Why, when she could have had me? We could have been together.

She said she couldn’t let me stay and be dragged down. Being back here, maybe I understand that. Everything here brings back memories, too many disturbing old wounds and scars. My moments with Lex I’ve lived a million times over in my mind, but some horrors have the power to suck me back into the depths of hell.

It only took the plane hitting the tarmac, and I was back to being six years old. I was home from school with a fever, sleeping on the couch with my mom passed out beside me, likely high or drunk by noon. My dad came home, lifted me off the couch by my shirt, and threw me into the shower because I smelled. He held me under the burning hot water while I screamed, my skin turning red and scorched, which only made him do it longer. My mom remained lost in some kind of paradise while more of me was burned alive.

I close my eyes, inhaling long and slow to ease my racing heart as I swallow the memory and force it back into the past. I slide out of bed, careful not to wake Lex, and pull on shorts and a shirt. I grab my phone and reach for the door but turn back to look at her.

Her back is to me. The early morning sun filters through the window, casting light over her. Her long blonde hair is fanned out behind her, and one bare shoulder peeks out from under the white sheet. The vision I’ve longed for.

I hold up my phone and snap a picture. Last night, I asked her to come back with me, and I want that more than anything, but I know I can’t push.

I close the door quietly, heading downstairs and into the kitchen. I find Cal at the table with a cup of coffee and the newspaper.

He peers at me over his glasses. “Took you long enough.”

I reach into the fridge for a bottle of water and join him at the table. I scratch my chin. “I had to be prepared to say goodbye for good. I wasn’t sure I could do that.” He nods, understanding. “You could have told me she called it off.”

He eyes me, his head falling to the side. “I could have. Have you told her?”

I shake my head. “It took me eight years. I’m not sure it matters.”

“What now?” Those same blue-gray eyes of one of the few men I trusted and respected as a young man stare into me, waiting for an answer.

“I don’t know.” I shrug my good shoulder. “I want her with me. I can take care of her and our baby one hundred times over, but you know she’s determined to be able to take care of herself. I respect that, even love her more for it.”

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