Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 59120 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 296(@200wpm)___ 236(@250wpm)___ 197(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59120 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 296(@200wpm)___ 236(@250wpm)___ 197(@300wpm)
I huff, staring at him with a hard expression. “The old ‘I was just protecting you’ excuse isn’t enough. You should have told me everything...”
“Would it have fucking changed anything?” he barks, his voice cutting off as he clenches his fists.
“YES!” I slam my hand on the side of the bed. “Yes, it would have—because it wasn’t just about you, it was about us. But you broke that, and now you’re angry I didn’t stay and pick up the pieces so that you would fucking feel better about my decision to leave.”
“Fuck you,” he growls, his voice so low, so gravelly, it hurts to hear.
"No, fuck you,” I hiss, voice trembling so hard I barely recognize it. “You had a daughter, Travis, and you just forgot to mention it in all those months we were talking about trust and love.”
His face blanks, but not enough. I see the muscle jump at his jawline. “That wasn’t your fuckin’ business at that point, I was dealin’ with it before I could tell anyone.”
I flinch. “Not my business?” I whisper, my voice barely a hiss. “I didn’t ask for you to love me, Travis Phoenix. I came back, and you pushed. You wanted it. You made me fucking love you and then you made a choice to destroy that.”
His fists are clenching so hard his knuckles are white. He just stares, slow burn, and he won’t show me a single ounce of hurt, which only makes it feel a million times worse for me.
Reagan shifts, her hands dropping to her sides as she stares between the two of us. I don’t look at her—I won’t look at anyone but him. “You think I left because I’m a coward? I left because you broke me,” I croak, each word broken. “You made me think it was all my fault. Like I was never enough. But the truth is, you have always been an expert at self-destruction.”
He looks at me, and for a second I see it—a hint of something. It might be regret, but he will never say it.
“You can leave.”
His voice comes out a slow, painful hiss.
I turn, rushing towards the door.
“Go back to your life, Violet. Run away, don’t look back, it’s what you do best.”
Every cell in my body wants to break him. “Fuck you, Travis.”
I get the hell out.
Reagan follows. I feel her behind me, but neither of us say anything. My chest shakes, but I don’t let myself cry until we are in the car and Reagan is behind the wheel. I want to scream, but even that seems pointless now.
“I know that hurt,” Reagan says, carefully. “But you both needed that.”
Did we?
Or did it just make everything a million times worse.
5
It has been another two weeks since I last saw Travis—two weeks of restless nights haunted by the same nightmare that only comes when I’m stressed. Jeremy’s face as he smiled at me, pulling that trigger. Then, the image I created all on my own, of him ending his own life. He did end it, which I found out weeks later. The coward shot me, thinking he had killed me, then ended his own miserable existence. My therapist said I created a vision of that in my head, and now that vision haunts me every single time life gets hard.
Today, I wake up in a cold sweat, my hands shaking and my body on high alert.
It takes me a moment to remind myself it’s just a dream.
I swing my legs out of bed. My shirt is damp with sweat. In the living room, Reagan is already at her laptop, scanning job sites. She decided to stay here with me, at least until I figure out if I want to go home to the city or start my life here again. I should just go back, but something is keeping me firmly in place. That something is Travis, even though he made it abundantly clear he wants nothing to do with me.
I pad into the bathroom, wash my face, and stare in the mirror.
Chief has been good enough to let us stay here for as long as we want, but that means being closer to where Travis has now returned home. I choose not to think about the fact that I am very likely to run into him sooner rather than later. I tie my hair up, then go back out into the living room just as Reagan closes her laptop with a huff.
“Morning,” she says, smiling, before it quickly turns to a frown. “Girl, you look like hell.”
“Yeah, I didn’t sleep the best. You know how it gets when I am stressed...”
“Nightmares?”
“Always the same one.”
She nods, pushing to her feet. “Well, let’s take your mind off it. What are your plans for the day?”
“I have no idea. I guess I need to call my boss and see how much longer she is willing to let me stay before I decide. Now you’re thinking of staying, I don’t know what to do...”