Page 99 of Finding Our Reality

The initial shock slowly seeps from my body, leaving me savagely broken. And I cry. For the first time in years, I cry. I sit on a bench, bury my head in my hands and watch as my tears soak the sidewalk.

What did she look like? Did she have a name? Was she in pain? Did she feed from Lulu’s breast? Did she fight for her little life?

It sounded like something went wrong with the pregnancy. Does that mean Lulu was in pain? How much suffering did she endure? Did she know she was pregnant when she married Hudson?

How could she keep this from me? How could she not tell me about the baby? Why did she do this to me? Did she want to hurt me because I left?

Things could’ve been so different.

It’s not like I could’ve left the Marines, but we could’ve made things work, made a life together. I would’ve married her, made it right. Hell, it’s what I really wanted. I wanted to marry her and have a family with her. I just thought she was giving up a chance at a great future to be with me. I didn’t want her to give up anything for me.

And in running away, I forced her to give up the greatest future of all—our daughter’s future.

I’m not sure how long I sit there, but eventually, my tears dry. My face stings from the salt and my lips are cracked and chapped. All of a sudden, I’m bone-tired. Weary and exhausted. Angry, frustrated, and miserable.

My head jerks up the second I hear her voice. “Well, you certainly know how to make a dramatic exit.”

Even through the dark, I can see her red and swollen eyes. She’s been crying. That thought fucking rips my heart out.

But empathy for Lulu isn’t the only feeling I have right now. My spirit is in turmoil, and the raging war inside is splitting my soul in two.

Despite my love for her, a devious snake of anger slithers its way through my blood. It tries to freeze me, tries to harden me, tries to consume me.

“You’re finished in there?” I nod my head at the brick hospital building.

“Yes. Discharged.”

I stand up. My back is so tight and tense, it feels like all my muscles are ripping. A single drop of rainwater falls on my head. “I’ll be back in a minute. I need to settle up for the damage I caused.”

She doesn’t look at me. She just stares straight ahead at the parking lot. “I already took care of it. I explained the delicacy of the situation. They were very understanding. They refused tolet me pay for the glass frame. I made a donation to the cancer center instead.”

A few more rain droplets fall. “I didn’t ask you to do that. I could’ve handled it. It was my mess to clean up.”

She tries to reach behind her neck with her good hand, but her purse and a bag of hospital stuff is weighing her arm down. Giving up, she sighs, “And you always take care of your messes, don’t you, Ry?”

What the hell is that supposed to mean? “You plan on telling me what you mean by that comment?”

“No.”

“Well, I suggest you quickly modify your plans, then.”

The rain is starting to fall at a faster pace, so she takes off walking toward the truck, ignoring me and leaving me standing like a dumbass on the sidewalk. I click the fob to unlock the door for her and take my sweet time walking across the parking lot. I need time to gather my thoughts. How are we supposed to even talk about this? About what happened? About our child?

I climb into the truck and toss my ballcap in the back seat. I shake the rainwater from my hair and drag my hands down my face. She shifts in her seat, trying to get comfortable.

“Is your arm hurting?”

“It’s fine. I took some ibuprofen a few minutes ago. It’ll kick in soon.”

“What’s in the bag?”

She shrugs. “Some extra bandages. Paperwork.”

I nod, not saying anything.

She points at the armrest and dashboard, where streaks of her dried blood mar the leather. “I’ll pay to have it have cleaned.”

“I don’t care about my damn truck.”

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