Page 132 of Debt of My Soul

Chris shoves his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants. His face scans mine and moves down my body. Not in an interested way but curious.

“Are you doing all right?” I ask. Because somewhere deep down, despite the hurt and pain he caused me, I want the man I spent nine years with to be okay.

“Yeah, yeah. Going to be a dad actually. Georgia’s pregnant.” He forces a smile and I’m pretty sure he’s panicking inside.

“Ah,” I say, glancing toward the belt. “The pickles with marshmallows make sense now.”

He chuckles. “Yeah, she’s had some pretty funky cravings.”

I smile. I don’t ask who Georgia is, or if she’s the one he cheated on me with. I’m not sure I care. He isn’t the man who occupies my thoughts or curls my toes.

“Well, congratulations,” I offer.

He tilts his head to the side as if he’s confused by my cordial conversation and genuine wish for his happiness. As he turns to swipe his credit card, he asks, “Are, are you seeing anyone?”

I bristle at the question and go to shake my head, before pausing.

“Actually, I’m married.”

Chris looks at my left hand and back up like he doesn’t believe me. Once again, I don’t care. I’m tied to Liam, legally, emotionally, willingly.

A sharp pain in my chest burns and I long for Liam. I need to go back, or at least call and see if he even wants to talk to me since I left.

“Did you get my letter?”

I flinch and distract myself by grabbing a bag of candy from the impulse section that always gets me. Honestly, that letter hasn’t occupied much of my thoughts and guilt creeps in.

“Thank you for sending my camera. Unfortunately, there was a fire, and I didn’t get a chance to read your letter. I’m sorry.”

It’s the truth. I’m not about to feed him some lie.

He nods, eyes widening at the total on the pin pad waiting for his card swipe. He doesn’t seem overly pressed to tell me what was in the letter, and I find I’m uninterested anyway.

“I’m sorry, Fleur.”

I pause, mid-placement of the specialty cookies and cream ice cream I added to my cart last minute. The kind Liam tossed in my cart telling me was the best, and it was. I’ll never be the same. He showed me the potential for greatness. Truly delicious ice cream and I’ll never go back.

I blink, wanting to cry. I want him.

If this is how Chris felt about Georgia, or whoever she was…

“I get it, Chris. I do.”

He swallows and inserts his card, smiling at the cashier as he hands him the receipt. And while I’m overall glad I had this closure with Chris, my thoughts dwell on Liam.

Chris says goodbye and I wish him best of luck. I toss a twenty at the cashier and dart out of the store without my change, past Chris in the parking lot loading his groceries into a bug.

I don’t have time to process that.

When I sling myself into the car, I grab my phone and do a quick search for flights to Mississippi. None for tomorrow.

Damn it. I hit the steering while, eyeing the time. I search Old Hillside, pulling up their number, and my finger hovers over the call button. It’s past 9:00 p.m.

I need to wait until morning. It would be rude to call them this late.

I start my car, and it sputters to life. It’s an older Ford Focus and the only thing I could afford with my savings after coming back home. I crank up the heat and drive home, making plans to get back to Ruin as soon as possible.

The house is dark when I pull into the driveway. The only light left on is the upstairs hallway from what I can tell. Gathering my bag, I head to the front porch.

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