Page 33 of Cry For You

Then

If this is not our child...I don’t know if I can do this. I don’t know if I can stare at the genetic material of that piece of trash, knowing what he did to you, every day. Lace, I’m trying to do what’s best for you.”

“What if it is?”

“What if it isn’t? What then? I can’t touch you, but you want me near you. But I can’t—I wouldn’t tell you what to do if circumstances were different.”

“Then don’t. I don’t want to talk about this. Stop!”

“Not now, not yet. We have to.”

“No, get out.” She starts shaking and fidgeting, and it’s all I can do to hold it together. Letting out a harsh breath, I try to clear my lungs of the anger, doubt, and every uncertainty there is in this world.

It’s not working! It’s not working! But I sure as hell know what will.

Backing out of the room, I watch her rock back and forth on her bed with her tear-stained face. She reaches out for me, but I can’t. I can’t help her this way. I take another look at her, broken and wounded. Scars so brutal I’m not sure they can be repaired by words of love.

I leave, knowing exactly what I need to do, pushed by rage and hatred so great it knows no boundaries.

Forty-eight hours, later my heart is still shattered in a billion scattered pieces. Shards of what use to be a functioning organ, thriving and living for the love of her, still can’t be healed. Head in my hands, soaked in my misery, I watch her sleep, sitting at the foot of her bed in the exact same spot I was before I left. I want to cry for her, for everything we’ve lost. Even more for what I‘m about to do.

She stirs underneath the covers. I roughly swipe the back of my hand across my face. Wiping the evidence of my sorrow and shame away. “Hi, baby. How are you doing?”

She lurches up in a confused swirl of fear. I sit as still as I can be, and she relaxes as soon as she recognizes it’s only me. Sad but true. I stroke her hair, letting out a heavy sigh as she tentatively touches the bruises on my face. It’s the first time she’s touched me in a long time, and it’s out of concern and still, fear.

“What happened? Where were you?”

“It’s not important. I needed to take care of some things. Things are going to be okay.”

She moves her head from side to side. The sadness in her voice just about does me in, but I did it for her. “Oh, Landon, what did you do?”

“It doesn’t matter.” I did what was best for her, and I just hope she’ll forgive me one day for what I’m about to do. “We need to talk.”

“No, I don’t want to.”

I straighten up, place a kiss in the palm of her hand and brace myself for what I’m about to do.

“I have to go.”

“Where?”

“I don’t know.”

“When will you be back?”

I look at her face, still so beautiful, but hollow. A ghost of her former self, the former self I’m every bit still in love with.

She says, “You’re leaving me.” The free fall of her tears leads to the hole in my chest where a whole heart used to be.

“I don’t know if I can.” My voice so hoarse and strangled I’m in pain.

“Try, please.” She cries, holding on to my face. “Don’t leave, try.”

“What if I can’t, Lace? I’m only going to do more harm than good to you.” Her cries get louder as I try to block them out but fail. “I’m hurting you now. Don’t cry, baby.”

“How,” she pants trying to catch her breath from the tiny sobs racking her body. “You’re taking my heart.”

“You need to make decisions for yourself, and this, baby, I can’t help you make it. I love you so fucking much, but I have to go. I have to let you go, for the both of us.”

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