Page 59 of Altered

Our marriage wasover.

I was completely done.

"Because of him," Jordan whispered, sinking down on the edge of his side of the bed.

"No." I shook my head. "Because ofyou."

"You cheat on me and I'm the one at fault," he asked, tone resigned.

"No," I countered, not giving into whatever this was. "I'm wrong for that. It's a million percent on me," I told him, feeling the hiss of my own words. "But don’t blame Hunter for our marriage being over because it was dead in the water long before I ever met him. Andthatis onyou."

"I never stopped loving you," he growled.

"No, you just forgot to show it," I shot back. "You just forgot I existed for eight damn years."

"Hope…" I watched as Jordan reached into the top drawer of his nightstand and withdrew an old leather photo album.

Knowing full well what was inside the contents of that book, my heart began to speed up, racing erratically. "Put it away," I warned him. "I don’t want to see."

He didn’t.

Instead, he opened the album to the first page, revealing the scratched up old photograph taped to the page. "See this," he whispered, pointing to the photograph of us as children, arms wrapped around each other's shoulders, as we held our fishing rods and smiled brightly for the picture I remembered my mother taking.

Physically drained and emotionally distraught, I sank down on the bed alongside him and stared down.

He continued to turn the pages, revealing images of our childhood, of the beautiful memories we had made together. "This is my book of you," he told me. "Of us."

"Jordan," I whispered, clenching my eyes shut, praying for the pain to stop. "Why are you doing this?"

"Because Ineedyou to remember," he choked out.

He continued to turn the pages, twisting the knife, until landing on the final page – the page that held the killer blow.

"You were so happy that day," he said, staring down at the photograph. "Look, Hope.Remember."

And I did.

With tear filled eyes, I gazed down at the eighteen-year-old version of myself standing outside the courthouse in Boulder, eyes bright with happiness, as I clung to Jordan's side and smiled for the camera.

It felt like a lifetime ago.

Like the person smiling for the picture was a different person.

"I remember," I told him, voice shaky, hands trembling. "All of it."

Exhaling a heavy sigh, Jordan reached over and placed his hand on mine. "Thank god."

The second his hand touched mine, I yanked my arm away and sprang to my feet. "I remember what happened straight after that too," I told him, trembling. "Youleftme."

"Keychain –"

"You got on your bike and you left me," I continued to say. "And when you finally came back, you tossed a brown envelope in my face and told me to sign the papers... to sign away our marriage." Tears flowed freely down my cheeks as we stared at each other, locked in our own personal emotional breakdown. "You told me youneverloved me, and then you turned around and walked out the door," I sobbed. "Eight years and nothing. No phone call. No email or text message. Not even a fucking letter!"

"You know why I had to leave!" he roared, his emotions taking over now, too. His eyes were bleary and glazed over from the sheer amount of alcohol he'd consumed, but his words were coming out crystal fricking clear. "You have no goddamn clue of what I was going through back then –"

"Because you didn’t tell me," I screamed. "And you're still doing that – refusing to talk about it. You never let me all the way in, Jordan, and it broke us up!"

"I'm talking now, aren’t I?" he snarled. "So, let's talk about it – about the unimaginable physical pain I went through when that bastard was ramming himself inside me – using my body as a fucking pin cushion for his dick."

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