Chapter 16 #2
“So you decided not to feel it at all,” I said, my voice rising as the full weight of his confession hit me.
He hadn't just forgotten; he had actively chosen to forget, to ignore, to silence the part of him that was mine.
A door slammed somewhere behind me, and I heard the quick footsteps of someone—probably Jimmy—stepping outside to check on me.
"You decided to pretend that the most important night of my life never happened.
Do you have any idea what that did to me? "
"I was trying to protect you—"
"Protect me?" I laughed, but there was no humor in it. The sound was bitter and broken, and I saw Marshall flinch as if I'd struck him. "You were protecting yourself. You were too scared to deal with the consequences of your actions, so you made me disappear. Again."
"That's not true—"
"Isn't it?" I stepped closer, close enough to see the gold flecks in his amber eyes, close enough to smell the desperation on his skin.
"Tell me, Marshall. After that night, how many times did you try to talk to me?
How many times did you ask how I was feeling?
How many times did you even look at me like I was a person instead of an inconvenience? "
He opened his mouth, then closed it, his face going gray. I could see the exact moment he realized he couldn't answer, couldn't defend himself, couldn't pretend he'd been anything other than cruel.
"None," I said for him, my voice soft but carrying the weight of months of pain. "Not once. Because that would have meant acknowledging what happened, and you couldn't handle that. So you went right back to ignoring me, to treating me like I was invisible."
A seagull landed on the diner's roof, its cry sharp and mournful. The sound seemed to echo the ache in my chest, the hollow space where my heart used to be.
"I was trying to give you space—"
"Space?" My voice cracked on the word, and I felt more tears spill over.
"I was seventeen years old and desperately in love with someone who'd just shown me paradise and then acted like it never happened.
I didn't need space. I needed my mate to remember that he'd held me and told me I was perfect. "
I was crying in earnest now, four months of suppressed grief finally finding its voice. My whole body was shaking, and I could feel the baby moving restlessly, responding to my distress.
"I waited," I continued, my voice breaking on every word. "I waited for you to remember, to come to me, to acknowledge what we'd shared. I made excuses for you. I told myself you were busy, that you were scared, that you just needed time. But you never came."
"I'm here now," Marshall said desperately, taking another step toward me. I could see tears streaming down his face, could see the way his hands were clenched into fists at his sides.
I stepped back again, wrapping my arms around my belly in a protective gesture. "Two months too late. Two months after you called me a whore and banished me."
The words hung in the air between us like a physical barrier. I could see them hit him, could see the way his whole body recoiled as if I'd slapped him.
"I didn't mean—"
"You did mean it," I said firmly, wiping my face with the back of my hand. "In that moment, you meant every word. You were so convinced that I was lying, so certain that I couldn't possibly be telling the truth, that you destroyed everything rather than consider that you might be wrong."
"I was confused—"
"You were cruel," I corrected, my voice growing stronger.
The baby gave a particularly strong kick, and I rubbed the spot, drawing comfort from the movement.
"You were cruel and selfish and so focused on your pain that you couldn't see mine.
Even when I was standing there pregnant with your child, begging you to remember, you chose to believe the worst of me.
You chose to believe Scarlett, who actually is a whore. "
Marshall's face was wet with tears now, his careful composure completely shattered. I felt no sympathy, only a bone-deep exhaustion that seemed to weigh down my very soul.
"When you banished me," I continued, my voice growing stronger with each word, "when you stood in front of the entire pack and called me a whore, do you know what that did to me? Do you know what it felt like to have the person I loved most in the world look at me with such disgust?"
"I was angry—"
"You were heartless," I said, and the word came out like a blade. "You took everything I was, everything I'd ever been to you, and you destroyed it in front of everyone we knew. You made me nothing. Less than nothing."
I could hear voices from inside the diner now—Rita's sharp tones, Tom's deeper rumble, the concerned murmur of the people who'd become my family. They were worried about me, ready to intervene if I needed them. The thought gave me strength.
"I know," Marshall whispered, his voice so broken I could barely hear it. "I know, and I'm sorry—"
"Sorry doesn't fix it," I said, my voice hard as granite. "Sorry doesn't give me back the months I spent believing I was worthless. Sorry doesn't erase the memory of you rejecting our bond, of you threatening to set warriors on me if I didn't disappear fast enough."
"I was wrong about everything," Marshall said, his voice breaking completely. "I was wrong about you, about the baby, about what I felt. I was a coward and a fool, and I destroyed the best thing that ever happened to me."
"Yes," I said simply, the word falling between us like a stone. "You did."
We stood there in silence, the weight of everything we'd lost hanging between us like a living thing.
The sun was lower now, casting everything in golden light that should have been beautiful but just felt harsh and unforgiving.
I could hear the distant sound of waves against the harbor wall, the cry of seagulls, the normal sounds of a town that had become my sanctuary.
"I love you," Marshall said finally, his voice barely above a whisper. "I've loved you since you were thirteen and looked at me like I hung the moon. I was too scared and too stupid to admit it, but I loved you then and I love you now."
The words I'd dreamed of hearing for five years now felt like poison in my veins. I could feel my heart breaking all over again, could feel the last fragile pieces of hope I'd been carrying finally crumble to dust.
"Love," I repeated, tasting the word like it was bitter on my tongue. "You think what you felt was love?"
"I know it is—"
"Love doesn't abandon," I said, my voice cutting through his protests like a knife. "Love doesn't ignore. Love doesn't forget the most important moments and pretend they never happened. Love doesn't call the person they claim to care about a whore."
"I know I don't deserve your forgiveness," he said desperately, and I could see him fighting not to reach for me. "I know I don't deserve a second chance. But I'm begging you—"
"No," I said firmly, my voice ringing with a finality that surprised even me. "You don't get to beg. You don't get to show up here and expect me to fall back into your arms because you've finally figured out what you threw away."
The baby kicked again, and I pressed my hand to the spot, feeling his strong movements. My son. My future. Everything that mattered now.
"Our son deserves to know his father," Marshall said, his voice taking on that familiar note of command that had once made me melt. Now it was making me angry.
"Our son deserves better than a father who would reject him before he was even born," I shot back, my voice rising. "He deserves better than a father who called his mother a whore in front of an entire pack."
"I'll spend the rest of my life making up for that," Marshall said urgently, taking another step forward. "I'll spend every day proving that I've changed, that I'm worthy of you both."
"You don't get to decide that," I said, my voice deadly calm. I could feel my strength returning, could feel the steel in my spine that I'd built over these months of learning to stand on my own. "You don't get to decide anything anymore. You gave up that right when you threw us away."
"Then what do you want from me?" he asked, and I could hear the desperation bleeding through his careful control, could see the way his hands were shaking.
"I want you to understand," I said, my voice growing stronger with each word. "I want you to understand that I'm not the same broken girl you banished. I'm not the same person who would have forgiven you anything just to keep you."
"I can see that," he said quietly, his eyes taking in my straight spine, my lifted chin, the protective way I held myself. "You're stronger. More confident. You've built something here."
"I've built everything here," I corrected, gesturing toward the diner where faces were pressed against the windows, watching to make sure I was safe, while Jimmy stood back by the door, watching just in case.
"I've built a life, a family, a future. I've learned what it means to be valued instead of tolerated.
I've learned what it feels like to be wanted instead of endured. "
"I never endured you—I was trying to do what was best for both of us.
I was nineteen when I found you, already sexually active, and suddenly I had to wait five years for my mate to be ready.
I thought I was being responsible by managing my needs elsewhere while keeping you safe and innocent. I thought I was protecting you—"
"Yes, you did," I said firmly, and I could see the truth of it hit him like a physical blow. "For four years, you endured me. You endured my presence, my feelings, my love. You treated me like an obligation you'd have to deal with eventually, not like a person you cared about."
Marshall opened his mouth to argue, but I cut him off with a raised hand.