Page 74 of (My Accidental) Killer Summer
“Elle—”
“No!” I cut him off, raising my hand as if to physically stop him from speaking. “You don’t get to come back and act like you can just pick up where we left off. You don’t get to waltz back into our lives and expect everything to be fine.”
He runs a hand through his hair; a gesture I used to find endearing but now only serves to frustrate me further. “I’m not expecting anything to be fine. Or what it used to be. I just want a chance to explain.”
“Explain what?” I scoff, crossing my arms defensively over my chest. “How you thought leaving would somehow make everything better? How you thought disappearing for two years was a good idea?”
“I thought it was the best thing at the time!” he shoots back, his voice rising slightly
“The best thing?” I laugh bitterly, shaking my head. “Please tell me how leaving was best when all we needed was for you to be here! For you to support us! To be a husband to me and a father to our kids!”
“I know,” he says softly, his expression shifting from frustration to something more vulnerable. “And I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry for everything.” His eyes are watery.
If he cries, I will cave. I’ve never, not once, seen this man cry. Not even when his parent’s passed. If he does it now, I won’t be able to handle it.
“Sorry doesn’t cut it, Noah.” My voice trembles as I fight back the emotions threatening to spill over. “You don’t get to just say you’re sorry and expect me to forgive you.”
“I’m not asking for forgiveness,” he replies, his tone earnest now. “I just want a chance to show you that I can be better.”
“Better?” I scoff again, incredulous. “Better than what, Noah? Better than not being here at all? Better than abandoning us?”
“It wasn’t my choice, Elle! Okay? They threatened you and the kids! If I didn’t go your lives would have been in danger. There is no way in this world I was letting that happen. There is nothing I wouldn’t do to keep you and the kids safe. Nothing, Elle!”
A tear slips down his cheek and I feel myself crumbling. So much wasted fucking time. Energy. Emotion.
“Why couldn’t you just tell me that?” I swipe angrily at the tears pooling in my own eyes.
He steps closer again, and this time I don’t push him away. Instead, I feel the heat radiating off him like a beacon drawing me in despite my better judgment.
“I couldn’t.”
“Why?”
His face fills with anguish. “I can’t tell you that either, Elle.”
“For fuck’s sake, Noah. What can you tell me?”
“I’ve never, not once, stopped loving you.”
“I don’t know if that’s enough,” I say honestly.
“What is enough? What do you want from me then?” he asks, his voice low and intense.
“I want you to understand what your absence has done,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper now. “I want you to understand how hard it’s been for me and the kids.”
“I do understand,” he insists, his eyes searching mine for some sign of hope. “I understand because it’s been just as hard for me being without you. Thinking about you every minute of every day since I left.”
“Thinking isn’t enough!” I snap, frustration bubbling over again. “You should have been here!” I’m just repeating myself now, and I hate that.
“I know,” he says again, softer this time. “And I regret every moment I wasn’t.”
I shake my head, feeling tears prick at the corners of my eyes again despite my best efforts to hold them back. “Regret doesn’t change anything.”
“Maybe not,” he concedes, his voice dropping even lower as he steps closer again. “But I want to try. I want to be here for you and the kids now.”
“Try?” I echo incredulously. “You think trying is enough? You think showing up after two years is enough?”
“It’s a start,” he says earnestly.
