Page 43 of Crossroads of Betrayal
“Have you figured out how to escape your demons while you’ve been here?”
His words struck her like an arrow—a direct hit where it’d cause the most damage. Her instinct was to run, to avoid the question and the conversation that was sure to follow. But her sore hip made running impossible and the gentle timbre to his words spoke of wanting understanding and not judgement. A combination that melted her resistance just enough to explore the possibility of finally coming all the way clean with Zeke. She might not ever be the woman he deserved to have stand by his side, but she could offer him what he’d wanted for so long. Truth that would allow him to see her for who she really was and release him from any unfound notion she was someone worth loving. “Escape them? No. Hide from them and pretend like they don’t control every facet of my life? Sometimes.”
She hated the omission. The fact that something so large and ugly loomed every day and held so much control over her life. But she couldn’t ignore the glaring facts anymore, and Zeke deserved to see who she really was.
He deserved to move on and find someone else.
A sharp ache in her chest had her wrapping her arms over her middle and dropping her gaze. She couldn’t bear to see the questions in his eyes when his opinion of her changed. When the truth could no longer be ignored.
“Grace, look at me. Please. I just want you to talk to me.”
His plea lifted her gaze and brought tears to her eyes. “My demons will never leave. They’re in my blood—in my soul. I can never escape them. Never live without them clawing their way back into every relationship. Friendships, family, anyone I love. I can’t be trusted.”
He inched closer, a deep V creasing the lines between his eyebrows. “Tell me why you’re so scared.”
Her bottom lip trembled, and fear spiked her blood pressure, but she wouldn’t look away. Wouldn’t back down. Not this time. Not when so much was on the line for the man she loved. “I’m the reason Penelope was tortured—the reason those good men were killed and their deaths made a spectacle. If I wouldn’t have acted impulsively and married you like I did, I would have been at that refugee camp. I could have protected them. Could have found them quicker. Could have done something that would have made their ending less tragic.”
He drew in a sharp breath and wedged her hand between his. “You can’t really believe you’re responsible for the actions of a group of terrorists. I know Penelope doesn’t blame you. She loves you. She misses you. Hell, all she wants is for someone to help you understand that you have a home in Texas with people who’d do anything to have you back.”
She ignored the way his touch made her heart race—ignored how each word gave false hope she couldn’t succumb to. “And what about Tessa? One day with you and I forget every reason I’d left. I let my emotions rule my decisions and she died because of it. If I would have been out by the fire until everyone was asleep, she’d still be alive.”
“You don’t know that,” he said, with a sad shake of his head. “If someone wanted to kill Tessa, they’d have found a way to do it. No matter where you were or what choices you made. You’ve been unlucky and found yourself in two situations where bad people did bad things. None of that is on you.”
“That’s not all.” Her stomach churned. Unworthy of his comfort, she slid her palm from between his hands. “I’m also the reason my mother is dead.”
CHAPTERSEVENTEEN
Zeke tightened his jaw and kept firmly rooted to the couch. Every fiber of his being screamed to pull Grace into his arms and kiss away the tears falling down her cheeks. But that’s not what she wanted, or hell, even what she needed right now. So instead, he fought to keep the roaring ball of emotion ripping through him from showing on his face and searched for the right thing to say.
“Grace, honey, you were just a kid when your mom died. She struggled with a lot of things that you didn’t even understand. You probably still don’t understand, and I hate that you had to experience a tragic loss at such a young age. But your mother taking her own life was the result of a lost battle with depression and whatever else plagued her.”
She sniffed, her nose red and skin blotchy. A hiccup interrupted her silent sobs. “You don’t understand. If I hadn’t been so selfish, if I would have just done what I was told, I would have been home. My mom wouldn’t have taken those pills. She’d still be alive. She wouldn’t have left me and Whitney all alone. I killed her. Me and my impulsive choices.”
A vice squeezed his chest. A million questions burned his tongue, but he held them back. She’d held in so much for so long. She needed to get it out. All of it. Or she’d never heal, never learn how to cope with the grief and sadness that had eaten her up for so long. “What choices?”
Wiping away tears with the heels of her hands, she swallowed hard. Purple bags circled her swollen eyes. “I was supposed to go home right after school. Every day. That was the rule. But there was this boy…” Her voice tightened and she rubbed her long, slender fingers over her collarbone.
He held his breath and waited. Rain pelted the window mixed with the crackling fire. Muted light from the gray day filtered through the window, making the hour seem later than mid-morning. He’d sit here all damn day if it meant giving Grace the time and space she finally needed to purge herself of everything she’d bottled up deep inside.
“Mom didn’t want me around him. He was two years older, and she didn’t trust him. But I was young and stupid and thought I knew best. So one day I went for a drive with him after school. I knew I’d get in trouble, but I didn’t care. When I finally got home… I found her in her bedroom.”
Grace’s voice was barely a whisper, and he leaned forward to catch every single word. Unable to stop himself, he gathered her in his arms, mindful of her injury.
She buried her head in his shoulder, and her tears soaked through his T-shirt. “It was my fault. I should have been there. Should have been home when she needed me. She wouldn’t have taken those pills in front of me. I can’t be trusted. I only think of myself and everyone I love gets hurt because of it. I had to leave you or you’d be next.”
The admission stole the air from his lungs. He’d gone over every single thing he could have done to push her away, every mistake he could have made. But he’d never imagined his wife had left him out of a deep-seated belief that she would cause him harm.
Gripping her shoulders, he pushed away and the pain pinching her face destroyed him more than a hundred bullets. But this was much deeper than her need to protect him. Grace’s demons had held her hostage since she was a teenager, rearing their ugly heads with each tragic twist of fate. Reinforcing the belief she’d created at such a young age and hadn’t known how to fight.
“Your mother made a choice that had nothing to do with you. Nothing to do with where you were or who you were with or the decision you made. She was sick. She was depressed and didn’t know how to get the help she needed. You can’t be blamed for her actions—no matter how many times you replay that day in your mind. How many times you consider what would have happened if you’d made a different choice. Honey, you’ll drive yourself crazy playing that sick game. And honestly, from where I’m sitting, you’ve played that game for way too long and it’s cost you so damn much.”
Eyes wide, she shook her head. Brown slips of hair swirled around her face and stuck to the moisture on her chin. “It’s not a game. I’m the common denominator. I’m the one who made a mistake, and those around me paid the highest price.” She gripped his forearms so tight her short nails threatened to pierce through his skin.
But he didn’t mind. He’d be her life raft. The one she needed to hold on to as she struggled against the waves of emotions crashing against her. He’d help her keep her head above water any way he could. “You’ve paid a pretty high price yourself. You’ve walked away from everyone you love. You did that because your selfless, not selfish. It’s time you start putting yourself first. Figure out how to wrap your mind around all the pain you’ve suffered. Because you can’t control the actions of others. Ever.”
She let her hands drop to her side and hunched forward. Her full lips turned down. “Your words make sense. They do. And I’ve told myself the same thing for years. But that doesn’t erase what happened. Doesn’t change the fact I could have made a difference.”
“We all could do things differently, alter the outcome of events,” he said with a shrug. “Or not. We’ll never know how any situation could have ended if we changed one, tiny thing. But spending our lives wondering what if will do nothing. Will change nothing.”
