Chapter 21 #2

I squatted down, hugging my knees, head buried in my arms. I was full-out hysterical, probably looked insane.

Didn’t care. My heart hurt so overwhelmingly with loss.

With loneliness. With bone-deep disappointment, not in Kizzy but in myself.

Because I knew better. I’d messed up, and now my kids—and I—would hurt because of it.

When I felt Ben’s hand on my shoulder, I popped up, still unable to take comfort from him. I didn’t want comfort. I needed to be self-sufficient even in this moment.

Putting space between us, I said, “This is why I can’t give you what you want.

” My voice was hoarse, quiet. I crossed my arms and hugged myself with my hands on my shoulders.

“This is why I can’t agree to anything long-term.

Because it never lasts. Everybody leaves.

They either die, or they go away and choose somebody else.

My mom died. My grandma died. Blake died.

Kizzy left, and here I am again, all alone.

” I threw my head back, pointing my face to the sky, then closed my eyes. More tears poured out.

“Dammit, Emerson,” Ben said, his voice full of fire. “You don’t get it, do you?”

“Get what?”

“I’m here. I’m right fucking here.”

“Maybe for now,” I said, “but it won’t last.” If my mother-in-law couldn’t hang on, why would anyone else? I knew this in my soul. I’d just temporarily let myself forget because of a few orgasms and stolen moments.

“I’ll be here, Emerson, if you’ll just let me. For fuck’s sake, I’ve cared about you since sophomore year in high school, before Blake ever asked you out. All these years and I still have these feelings for you.”

“Stop.” I shook my head, unable to fathom what he’d just admitted to. He’d married someone else. Made a life, had kids with her. It didn’t make sense. I sucked in a deep gulp of frigid air.

“That’s just it, Emerson. I apparently can’t stop caring about you.”

His voice had gone quieter but even more intense. It slowed my rant marginally.

“You’re such a good, giving man, Ben, but life has taught me over and over not to get comfortable. Not to rely on anyone else. It’s just me. It’s better that way.”

“Do you really believe that bullshit?” he said, looking angrier than I’d ever seen him.

All that did was reignite my own ire.

“Yes, I really do!”

How could I not? So many losses. So much pain, and it affected my children too.

The hurt in my heart from Kizzy’s moving away had been simmering for all these weeks.

I’d tried to be understanding and accepting even as I’d felt like the kids and I weren’t important enough for her to stay.

Had she ever asked Shannon to move to Tennessee?

Now, with her skipping out on us for Christmas, the biggest thing the kids were looking forward to about the holiday, the cut went deeper.

Whether it made sense or not, it took me back to all those other losses because, once again, in the end, I was left to fend alone and wrap my head around another big void in our lives.

I squeezed my eyes shut as tears gushed out. My chest physically hurt. My throat pulsed with pain, making it hard to breathe.

“It was supposed to be a long weekend she took to Vegas, a visit to a friend,” I said, thinking back to just a couple of months ago when Kizzy had yanked the rug out from under us.

“I was all for it. She deserved to get away for a few days. When she came back, she was married. No warning. Just, ‘I’m moving a billion miles away.’ And I was so understanding.

Genuinely happy for her. I really was. I knew it would mean changes for us.

We couldn’t stay in that house forever. But then she sold it so fast… ”

“I’ve always thought it was insensitive of her,” Ben said. “She left you in the lurch, and you’ve been so damn understanding.”

“How could I not?” I shrieked. “How could I ask her not to take that preemptive deal on her house?”

I cried harder, because that was the same predicament I was in now. Kizzy’s actions weren’t unreasonable. She was just living her life. But my kids and I were the ones being hurt by it. Again.

“The person I trusted most in the world to be there for my kids has hurt them three times now,” I said, my voice quieter, calmer on the surface, mainly because I was suddenly drained. “Shame on me for letting that happen. This is on me, not Kizzy.”

“There were better ways for her to handle it,” he said. “And she sure as hell didn’t have to blow off the kids’ Christmas.”

“It’s up to me to make it okay for them.” As the words poured out of me, I felt the truth of them in my bones. No more relying on others for that. No more relying on others for anything.

“You’re not going to let me help?”

“No. We never should’ve moved in here. I appreciate your generosity, but I’m going to find an alternative solution. Maybe we’ll rent after all, or we’ll work out a long stay at the inn—”

“That’s the dumbest thing you’ve said yet.”

“It’s what I should’ve done all along.”

“So you’re going to ruin my kids’ Christmas because Kizzy hurt you?”

Dammit. Dammit, dammit, dammit. Of course I couldn’t hurt Evelyn and Ruby.

I didn’t want to hurt Ben either. “We’ll be here for Christmas just like we planned.

But in the meantime, I’m going to see about a room at the Marks.

My kids were promised a pool and fun times.

If we can get a room, Ruby and Evelyn can come swim with us. ”

“You’re running away.”

I let out a laugh that had no humor in it.

“I’m keeping myself safe, Ben. Protecting my kids.

I can’t take one more loss. Not ever. So call it whatever you need to, but I can’t stay.

” I breathed, the panic starting to subside with my decision.

“And now I need to go break my kids’ hearts with Kizzy’s news. ”

I stalked off before he could say more, feeling wrung out and heartbroken. I needed another couple of hours to level out, process everything, and work up my soothing-mom face, but I didn’t have the luxury. I was a single mom. I’d tend to my own wounds later.

When I was almost to the house, I heard Ben yell, “Fuck!” at the top of his voice. I guessed he was letting out his own frustration.

I wished I wasn’t the cause of it, but I had to do what was best for my kids and myself. I’d lost sight of that since moving in here.

Thank you, Kizzy, for the unpleasant reminder.

If ads affect your reading experience, click here to remove ads on this page.