Page 13 of Entwined
The weight of his confession pressed down on me, almost suffocating, but I forced myself to move. Rising from the chair, I leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, my lips barely brushing his skin. I wanted to say more, to offer some comfort, but all that came out was a whisper, so faint it felt like a secret shared with the darkness. “I need some time.”
His hand reached for mine, a weak attempt to keep me close, but I gently pulled away, my heart heavier than it had ever been. Without another word, I hurried from the room, the walls of our bedroom closing in on me as I fled down the hall.
The tears that I had fought so hard to hold back finally broke free, blurring my vision as I searched for a place to hide. My old bedroom seemed the only refuge where I could fall apart in peace. I burst through the door, my breath hitching as I threw myself onto the bed. The familiar scent of the room did nothing to soothe me. Instead, it only intensified the ache in my chest.
It wasn’t long before the bed dipped beside me, and I felt strong arms pull me into a lap, the warmth of a body against mine. I didn’t need to look up to know who it was.
“He told you the truth?” Vaughn’s voice was low, almost a whisper, as if he feared his words might shatter me further.
“Yes,” I choked out, my voice trembling with the weight of everything I’d just learned.
In that moment, I didn’t care about the animosity I usually felt towards Vaughn. All I needed was comfort, and he was here. I clung to him, burying my face in his shoulder as sobs wracked my body. He held me tightly, his arms wrapping around me as he stroked my back in soothing, rhythmic motions.
“Shhh, Joey,” he murmured into my hair, his breath warm against my scalp. “He wanted you to know.”
His words did nothing to ease the pain. “It doesn’t make it any easier,” I whispered, my voice breaking.
“Joey, I’m sorry.” His apology hung in the air, sincere but powerless to mend what was broken.
I stayed in his arms, letting the last of my tears fall until I was too exhausted to cry anymore. When I finally pulled away, crawling off his lap and curling up on the bed, Vaughn said nothing. He simply rose, his movements careful and quiet, and closed the door behind him, leaving me alone with the heavy silence and the truth that had shattered my world.
Chapter 6
I stood outside the bedroom door, my hand hovering over the doorknob. I wasn’t sure if I could face Colson again, not after everything he had told me, not with the weight of my own secret crushing down on me. But I knew I had to. There was no escaping this. No running away from what was coming.
I turned the knob and pushed the door open, the creak of the hinges breaking the heavy silence. The room was dim, the only light coming from a small lamp on the nightstand, casting long shadows across the bed. Colson was fast asleep, his breathing shallow but steady, his chest rising and falling under the thin blanket.
I moved quietly, slipping out of my clothes and into my nightgown, the fabric cold against my skin. My body felt heavy, weighed down by exhaustion and despair, but I forced myself to crawl into bed beside him. The mattress dipped slightly under my weight, but Colson didn’t stir. I reached out, laying my hand on his chest, feeling the slow, rhythmic beat of his heart beneath my palm. It was a faint comfort, a reminder that he was still here with me, even if only for a little while longer.
I closed my eyes, but sleep didn’t come. Instead, the tears did, sliding down my cheeks in silent streams, soaking into the pillow beneath my head. I didn’t bother to wipe them away. There was no point. The pain was too deep, too overwhelming to hold back. I had never felt so alone, even with Colson lying beside me.
In two days, I would end my pregnancy. It was a decision I had made in the cold, clinical light of the doctor’s office, when the reality of our situation had been laid out before me with brutal clarity. The baby had a fatal condition, one that would cause suffering for both the child and me if I continued with the pregnancy.
I had no choice but to protect Colson from that truth. He was already dying, his body failing him more with each passing day. How could I burden him with the knowledge that the life we had created together would be cut short before it even began?
I bit down on my lip, stifling the sobs that threatened to escape. I couldn’t let Colson see me like this, couldn’t let him know how much I was hurting. I had to be strong for him, even if it meant carrying this secret to my grave.
His breathing hitched slightly, and I froze, my hand still resting on his chest. For a moment, I thought he might wake up, that he might see the truth in my eyes and ask the questions I wasn’t ready to answer. But then his breath evened out again, and he remained asleep, blissfully unaware of the storm raging inside me.
I turned my head slightly, pressing my lips to his shoulder in a gentle kiss, hoping to convey the love I couldn’t put into words. “I’m sorry,” I whispered, my voice barely audible, swallowed by the darkness of the room. “I’m so sorry, Colson.”
But he didn’t hear me. And maybe that was for the best. Because in the end, I couldn’t bear to let him know just how much more we were about to lose.
I pulled my hand away from his chest, curling up beside him, the tears still falling, each one a silent cry for the life we would never have, the future that was slipping away from us both. And as the night stretched on, I lay there, waiting for sleep to take me, knowing that in two days, I would make the most heartbreaking decision of my life and never breathe a word of it to the man I loved.
I walked through the front door, the weight of the world pressing down on me. The house was eerily quiet, the kind of silence that made my skin crawl. I’d hoped that maybe, just maybe, coming home would bring some sense of comfort, but all I felt was emptiness.
My steps were slow, each one dragging me further into the void that had opened up inside me. I made my way to the living room, but the familiar surroundings only made the ache in my chest worse. I couldn’t stop thinking about what I had done—about what was gone. Colson's legacy, the child we had created together, was gone. And I was the one who had to make that choice.
The pain was unbearable. It was a deep, raw ache that throbbed through every part of me. My body was sore, a physical reminder of the procedure I had endured, but the mental anguish was far worse. I felt like I was unraveling, every thread of my being slowly coming apart at the seams.
I sank onto the couch, pulling a blanket around me as if it could somehow shield me from the overwhelming guilt that gnawed at my insides. It wasn’t my fault—everyone had told me that. The doctors, the nurses, even Colson, though he didn’t know the full extent of what had happened. They had all said the same thing: It wasn’t your fault. But that didn’t stop the guilt from settling in, from sinking its claws into me and refusing to let go.
I curled up into a ball, clutching my stomach, the place where our child had once been. A sob burst from my throat, harsh and ugly, and I buried my face in the blanket, trying to muffle the sound. But the tears kept coming, hot and relentless, until I was gasping for air between sobs. It seemed that all I did lately was cry.
The physical pain from the procedure was still fresh, a dull, throbbing ache that radiated through my lower abdomen. I felt drained, like all the life had been sucked out of me, leaving only this hollow shell behind. I couldn’t escape the thought that I had failed—not just Colson, but myself, our family, and the life we were supposed to bring into this world.
I tried to focus on my breathing, the way the doctor had told me to, but it only made me more aware of the emptiness inside me. I was supposed to be healing, both physically and emotionally, but all I felt was broken. Shattered.
