Page 6 of What We Broke

“Then just pretend for me, okay?”

Her knowing eyes find mine and she nods.

She knows what I’m asking of her. What I’vebeenasking of her and what I willcontinueto ask of her.

Please turn a blind eye to the destruction of your parents’ marriage.

Please let me live in denial.

Please, please, please let’s just pretend.

Stepping closer, she rises up on the tips of her toes, kisses me on the cheek, and wraps her arms around my neck. “Goodnight, Dad.”

Glad she’s no longer going to argue with me, I exhale in relief and hug her around the waist, murmuring into her hair, “Goodnight, Raine.”

Reluctantly releasing my hold on her, I watch her retreat to her bedroom and wait for the click of the door before leaving the house and climbing into the car.

The drive isn’t as long as I need it to be.

It isn’t long enough to quell the mishmash of feelings unfurling inside my chest. It isn’t long enough to tune out the never-ending fight between my head and my heart.

Logic told me he was spiraling.Wewere spiraling. We had been all year. But my heart didn’t care. My heart was his and had been since the moment I laid eyes on him. To have and to hold. To love and protect. But there were also the unspoken vows. Like how my heart was his to wreck and to ruin. To damage and destroy.

I was confident we were the forever type of love, even if right now we are nothing more than a hollow center and frayed edges.

Time isn’t an issue, we could come back from this.

We would.

We had to.

Pulling into the parking lot, I find a spot as close to the entry as possible. Being a weeknight, there isn’t much of a crowd; just a few suits dragging their feet before they call it a night.

Unable to pinpoint exactly how I’m feeling, I drop my forehead to the steering wheel and concentrate on my breathing.

One.

Hold.

Two.

Release.

I don’t know what to expect when I walk inside. I’m used to the aftermath; the occasional lump of limbs curled up in our guest bedroom, the grunts that replace words, the hungover man who refuses to spend more than seconds around me and in our house. He wants to drown alone and I can’t handle watching him do it––that is my reality.

This. This is the part we were both avoiding.

When the sound of muffled voices reaches my window, I raise my head just in time to watch a group of smiling men and women hug and kiss each other goodbye.

The simplicity of their moment makes me ache for the past.

Ache for a smile. A hug. A laugh.

Focused on the group of strangers, I almost miss the man with his head bowed, hands shoved deep into his jacket pockets, slinking unsteadily out of the bar.

He struggles with every second step, and after only a few, he gives up, resting his back against the brick building and sliding down to the pavement.

Looking lost and helpless, he closes his eyes and just sits there.

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