Page 30 of Infinite
“I quit my job.”
“Why? You . . . why the hell would you do that?”
“Because I don’t want to help women have babies anymore.” The words are matter of fact and leave no room for arguments. “So, I could open a lab for you guys, and . . . you know...I’m sure there are things you need help with that I could arrange. Maybe running DNA tests or something with forensics would be a new venture I could get into?”
Jackson moves closer, and I lock all my emotions down as he approaches. “Are you sure you want to do this? What did Quinn say?”
“He thinks we should move to Virginia Beach, so I’ll be looking for a job there once I’m technically cleared to go back to work, I guess.”
They share a look, and then Catherine starts. “Ashton, did you really think this through? I’m not saying I don’t understand. I do—”
“Do you? Do you know what it’s like to be so happy that you’re practically dancing on air one day and then in the pits of hell the next?”
Catherine eyes me. “No, but I haven’t had the perfect life either, Ashton.”
“Have you lost any children?”
“You know I haven’t.”
“Right, so you totally know what I’m going through. I mean, look, you’ve had your fair share of shit, but losing not only a baby but also your entire reproductive system seems to tip the scales a bit in my favor.”
She huffs. “Jackson, would you give us a minute, please? Maybe Quinn is awake and could use some company.”
Damn it. Now she’s really going to lay into me. You know what? I don’t even care. I’m going to say and feel what the hell I want.
“Sure, I’ll go check.” He nods once and carries Erin into the back where my bedroom is. I’m being a raging bitch. I know it. As each word escaped my mouth, I hated the way it tasted. Hurting Catherine isn’t right, but I’m having a hard time caring much about anything.
“You’re right, you know?” she says after he’s out of sight. “The scales have tipped so far into the shit side for you that I don’t know if there’s enough weight to move it back. You didn’t deserve any of this, but we’re all here for you. We all love you. We all want to help, but for the last week, you’ve refused to answer phone calls, texts, emails . . . I’m shocked you opened the door.”
“I’m tired.”
“I get it.”
“You say that, but you can’t possibly get it. You’re able to hold your daughter, love her, touch her . . . I have nothing. So, don’t say you get any of it because you have no fucking clue.”
“Maybe not,” Cat agrees. “Maybe I can’t even fathom the kind of hell you’re in, but you’ve never been like this. You’re the one who flips the world off as you’re strutting by in your Manolo’s. You don’t sit around and feel sorry for yourself.”
“No, that was you,” I say and instantly hate myself because that was out of line. “That was . . .”
Catherine didn’t deserve that, and I can’t seem to make myself say anything.
“True.” Catherine shrugs. “I was that way. I let myself fall into despair because it was so much easier. I pushed everyone away, felt as though I didn’t deserve anything and almost lost Jackson in the process. Sounds familiar, huh? It was me, but I never thought it would be you.”
I didn’t get my heart broken by some guy and give up like she did. It has nothing to do with my past or something inconsequential. I lost my life and my future. She has to see there’s a difference, and if she doesn’t, she’s an asshole.
Catherine and I have always had this truth about us, though. She never holds back and neither do I. It’s always been full disclosure and maybe I should’ve expected her to call me out on my reaction. It’s that I’ve never felt this low.
Losing Quinn sucked, and I thought I was pretty pathetic then with how I handled it, but this is more.
This is a heartache I don’t understand.
She can judge me, but I know that if the roles were reversed, she’d be no different.
“I never knew what this would feel like.”
“You need to let people in. Please, I’m begging you to talk.”
“And what does talk change, Cat?” I ask with a hint of sarcasm. “What will it give me? Huh? Nothing.”
