Total pages in book: 133
Estimated words: 125866 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 629(@200wpm)___ 503(@250wpm)___ 420(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 125866 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 629(@200wpm)___ 503(@250wpm)___ 420(@300wpm)
“You used to write.”
I swallowed. “I used to do a lot of things.”
“Do you still write?”
“No.”
“Do you want to?”
I smiled, looking down at my lap. I realized we were still holding hands, and I glanced to make sure Braden wasn’t watching us before I pulled my hand from Kyle’s.
He frowned as soon as I did.
“I don’t know,” I answered honestly. “I think I missed it, for a while. But I haven’t felt that way in a long time.”
I didn’t expand on what that way meant. Maybe he knew. Maybe he could look right through me and see that inspired was the last thing I’ve felt over the last several years.
“You love being a mom,” he said, not so much a question as an assessment.
I nodded. “More than anything in the world.”
“Sebastian is a great kid. You…” He swallowed. “He’s lucky to have you.”
My heart hollowed out with him looking at me like that, with him saying those words like he… like he wished he was a part of the family equation.
Like he had regrets.
And I couldn’t fight it any longer.
I couldn’t hold back the question that had been eating me alive since I was eighteen.
“Why did you leave?”
I whispered the words, my voice shaking and giving away the nonchalance I tried to fake with the question.
Kyle’s jaw tensed, his marble eyes holding mine. “You know why, Mads,” he croaked.
He looked hurt that I’d asked him, that I’d made him say that.
But not as hurt as I felt having him admit that to my face.
I blinked, and I thought I was holding a poker face, but I felt a tear trickle down my cheek. My bottom lip trembled, and my breath lodged in my chest when Kyle reached over and thumbed that tear away.
“I didn’t have a choice,” he said, his voice lower than before, his voice cracking with the words. “If I had — it would have been you. My choice would have always been you.” He swallowed. “Even if you didn’t choose me.”
He ripped his hand from where it held mine, scrubbing it over his face as he looked out the window and leaned away from me like I was on fire.
I frowned, confusion overtaking the hurt I felt before as I dissected his words.
I didn’t have a choice.
What the hell did that mean?
My mind raced with the possibilities. Did his parents not give him an option to stay with me and our child? Surely, they would have wanted him to stay and hold responsibility. Mr. and Mrs. Robbins were well-known and well-respected in our community.
My heart stopped in my chest.
They were well-known and well-respected.
But would they still have been, if their teenage son knocked someone up?
I covered my mouth with one hand, staring at the back of Kyle’s head before my gaze dropped to my lap.
Is that why they left?
Even if you didn’t choose me.
I frowned again, thinking about the last time I’d seen Kyle. We were at school, walking toward each other in the courtyard. I’d frozen when I’d seen him, not sure what to expect now that he knew about our predicament.
I had wished for him to run to me, to hold me, to assure me it would all be okay, and he was right there with me no matter what.
Instead, he’d taken one look at me, scowled, and stormed in the opposite direction.
I didn’t find out until later that he had cleaned out his locker. And I didn’t find out from him that he and his family were moving.
I put the pieces together once they were already gone.
As if that experience hadn’t plagued me as a teenager, as if I hadn’t lost sleep wondering what had happened all those years ago, as if I hadn’t endured the most horrific loss of my life — alone…
Now, I had an extra layer of confusion to add to the mix.
I didn’t have a choice.
But he did. He could have chosen to talk to me. He could have chosen to tell me if his parents had made the decision for him. He could have run away.
We could have run away. Together.
As a mother myself now, I knew how foolish that idea was even as I thought it. But it didn’t stop me from wondering. It didn’t stop me from wishing he would have at least talked to me.
I thought about Kyle’s father, about the nights he would drink too much, lose his temper, and take out all his life’s frustrations on his son.
Had he threatened Kyle?
Had he…
I closed my eyes, the thought souring my stomach.
Had he hurt Kyle… because of me?
I searched my memory of that last day I saw him, trying to remember if Kyle had worn any physical signs of the abuse I knew he’d suffered at his father’s hand.
But all I remembered was the hard stone of his gaze.