Page 110 of Versions Of Us

What have I done?

My injuries may be serious, but in this moment it’s my heart that aches. She must be going out of her mind right now, not knowing where I am. I wonder whether she’s assuming the worst has happened, although I know that whatever she might be thinking could never be close to the truth.

I don’t know how long a ‘long time’ is, but I know it’s too long to expect Kristen to wait for me. I know that if I tell her where I am, she’ll wait as long as it takes for me to be set free from prison. She would stand by my side through it all.

But I can’t be that selfish, no matter how much I want to be. I know what I need to do.

I walk to the front of the cell. I wrap my fingers around the cold, hard metal bars. “Excuse me,” I shout down the hall.

A short policewoman shuffles down the aisle, her blonde hair pulled back tight into a ponytail. She doesn’t say anything, just raises her eyebrows at me.

“Do I get to make a phone call?”

I’m not sure if I imagine the slightest hint of sympathy that crosses her features. “Sure. You only get one. Make it count.”

I call my father. I explain the whole situation and he drives four hours to post bail. When they release me at around roughly 2am, I’m instructed not to leave town.

They tell me someone will be in touch about my court hearing. My dad checks us both into a cheap motel and I try to prepare myself to make another dreaded phone call.

“Are you sure you want to do this right now?” Dad asks. “She’ll be sleeping.”

I shake my head stubbornly. “I have to do it now. It can’t wait.”

“Okay, son. I’ll be right here when you’re done.” With a grim expression, he pats my shoulder and then turns and seats himself in the small tub chair in the corner of the motel.

I wander to a secluded park at the end of the road where I slump down into one of the swings. I pull my phone out and stare at it for several moments, trying to psyche myself up for what I need to say.

I know I’ll have to be cruel.

Brutal.

I’m going to have to make her hate me.

But it’s for her own good.

I find her in my contacts, the picture of her gorgeous face lighting up the screen. A face I have no idea if I will ever see again.

And I hit the call button.

Chapter 43

KRISTEN

Isit motionless on the rock, the silence stretching out between us. I’ve never been rendered so completely powerless as I have been in these last twenty-minutes, watching Henley relive the tragic events that occurred six months ago.

I’ve listened intently, observing the way his shoulder blades expand and contract, the tremors in his hands and the cold sweat that collects on his brow. He’s fighting off another panic attack.

He’s been fighting an internal battle I’ve known nothing about.

There’s a dull ache in my bones, a burning between my ribs. A sadness I’m not sure will ever leave me after learning the truth. How could I not know? How could I put aside the obvious signs of trauma Henley has displayed?

Everything is beginning to make sense now. The sleeplessness he described, the panic attacks, the aversion to loud noises. The way he fell to the ground the night those tyres screeched outside the Haven. They’re all obvious signs of PTSD that relate directly to this incident.

My mind churns over thoughts and memories of the night he left, selfishly trying to absolve me of the shame I deserve to feel.

“You wanted me to hate you,” I say, turning to face him, my cheeks wet with tears. “You made me think you had a life with someone else.”

“I’m sorry. It was the only way.” He clenches his jaw, squeezing his eyes shut, then he buries his face in his palms.

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