36. Collins
collins
NOW
I’m hearing her words.
I’m looking at the woman I’ve known.
I’m staring into her eyes—red, swollen, and filled with a sadness so deep it feels bottomless—and that’s when I realize…
I hear nothing. I see nothing. I know nothing.
Everything I thought I understood, every explanation I’d built in my mind, every scenario that ever crossed it…
Nothing.
Not one single thing could have prepared me for this. Any pain I’ve ever felt, any anger that has ever run through my veins. All logic, all reason, it evaporates. Dissolves into nothingness.
“Say something,” she whispers, looking at me through eyes that reflect more suffering than one person should ever have to carry.
But the words won’t come.
Nothing makes sense.
Instead, I focus on the air entering my lungs…
then leaving again. Slow. Mechanical. Like breathing is the only thing tethering me to the moment.
It’s a damn good thing I have no control over the inevitable beating of my heart.
It just keeps going, pounding inside my chest by the mercy of God, or some higher power.
Thankfully. Because, if it were up to me, I think it might have stopped the moment she started talking.
There’s a feeling rising inside of me that’s so foreign it almost frightens me. I’ve never experienced anything like it in my life.
Immense empathy. That’s the closest word I have for it.
But even that doesn’t do it justice.
Every horrible thing that has happened to this woman. Every ounce of pain her soul has carried alone, I feel it like it’s been poured directly into my own chest.
And somehow…I feel it tenfold.
My chest tightens with the weight of it, with the unbearable need to fix something that can’t be fixed. And all I want, more than anything, is to take it away from her. I don’t want her to carry any of that inside her for one more second.
“What can I do?” God, that sounds pathetic. My voice cracks under the weight of it. “Tell me how to make it better,” I plead quietly. “Tell me how to make it go away.”
Only then do I realize my vision has blurred. Tears feather down my face, slipping silently over my skin, and she looks at me with the most sorrowful expression I’ve ever seen her wear. Like my pain somehow hurts her almost as much as her own.
“Collins.”
Her gaze drops, finding her hands clasped together on her thighs between us, fingers twisting together.
“This isn’t your problem to fix. You didn’t do anything.” Her voice is soft but steady. Like she’s already had this conversation with herself a hundred times before.
“I’ve had ten years to work on myself. To heal.” She swallows, her eyes still fixed on her hands. “And just because the pain still exists in me doesn’t mean he won. He didn’t.”
Her shoulders lift slightly with a quiet breath.
“I’m okay. He made me weak…just for me to grow stronger.” Her words barely rise above a whisper, and yet conviction stands behind every single one of them. A quiet strength that makes my chest ache.
I throw myself toward her, wrapping my arms around every inch of her I can possibly reach. My hands grip her like letting go might somehow shatter her into pieces. Like if I loosen my hold for even a second, everything she’s fought to rebuild might fall apart again.
So I hold on. Tight.
As if it’s my job now to keep every broken piece of her together.
She melts into my arms almost instantly, her body softening against mine like she’s been waiting for somewhere safe to land. For a moment, neither of us moves.
Then something suddenly dawns on me.
I pull my head back just enough to look at her, though I keep her tucked tightly against my chest, one hand still anchored at her back.
“How did you find out that what he said about me—about me and Steph—wasn’t true?”
She sniffles softly and wipes at her eyes before looking up at me. “I just…realized I already knew the truth.” My heart bottoms out in my chest.
“It took a while for me to even try making sense of the things he said that night,” she continues quietly. “But when I finally did, it wasn’t even a question for me.” Her eyes hold mine now, steady and certain.
“I knew who you were. I knew what we had. You wouldn’t have done that to me.” Her voice trembles slightly, but the certainty in it never wavers. “I don’t know what he had to gain from lying. Maybe just manipulation, I guess. But his words didn’t hold any weight.”
She shakes her head faintly.
“What we had was real. You can’t fake the kind of connection we had.”
Relief crashes through me the moment the words leave her mouth, flooding every corner of my chest.
This woman.
“I love you.” The words fall out like the most natural thing in the world.
I bend down and press my lips softly to hers, my thumbs moving instinctively to wipe the tears from the apples of her cheeks, catching them before they fall any farther.
“I’m sorry,” I breathe against her. “Fuck…I’m so sorry, Johnnie.”
My mind spins, scrambling for the right things to say. Words that might somehow carry enough weight to ease even a fraction of what she’s been holding all these years.
But before any more sympathy can form, something else crashes in.
Something I have no control over.
It rolls through me like a freight train, sudden and unstoppable, tearing through every other thought in its path.
Rage.
My heart begins to pound, heavy and violent against my ribs. My blood boils, heat flooding through my veins so quickly it almost makes me dizzy.
The shift is so abrupt, so powerful, that I take Johnnie gently by the arms and move her away from me. Carefully.
Because whatever is building inside me right now, it’s dangerous.
And she can’t be anywhere near the crossfire.
I stand and make my way toward the bathroom, putting distance between us, even though every cell in my body protests the moment I do. It feels wrong to step away from her, like some invisible force is pulling me back toward where she’s sitting.
Like I’m meant to be beside her.
But the heat raging through me won’t allow it.
The cool tile beneath my feet does nothing to relieve the simmering anger boiling through my body.
I stop in front of the mirror, bracing both hands against the vanity.
I turn on the faucet and splash cold water onto my face, letting it drip down my skin before finally looking up.
For a second I almost don’t recognize the man staring back at me.
There’s a storm behind eyes that are normally clear…
controlled. Steady. Now they’re dark. The lines in my forehead ache from the strain of clenching my jaw so tightly.
Lee. The name echoes through my mind like a gunshot.
Lee hurt Johnnie.
Hurt her in the worst way possible.
And I was right there.
Next door.
Probably sound asleep…while the love of my life endured things so horrible, so disgusting, I can barely allow my mind to touch them.
The thought makes my stomach twist. I draw in a deep breath and grab the towel beside the sink, dragging it slowly across my face.
The fabric is rough against my skin, grounding me for a second.
When I open my eyes again, there’s another reflection in the mirror.
She stands in the doorway. My T-shirt hangs down to her knees, swallowing her frame.
Her face is soaked with tears, strands of hair clinging to the dampness on her cheeks.
Her eyes are red and swollen, but the thing that’s most noticeable of all… is the worry.
“Collins…what are you doing?” Her voice cracks, splintering something inside my chest even further.
“You stay here,” I tell her, forcing the words out evenly, even though my pulse is still pounding through my ears. “There’s not much food in the fridge. Call and order anything you want. The keys to my truck are on the hook in the laundry room if you’d rather go pick something up.”
I move past her toward the bedroom.
“I’ll leave my credit card on the counter. Use the shower. Make some coffee. Hell, drink the wine—whatever you want.” My voice hardens slightly. “I’ll be back.”
I flip on the light in the walk-in closet, grabbing a pair of jeans and a T-shirt. I can feel her presence lingering in the doorway.
“Collins…you’re scaring me.” Her voice wavers. “What are you going to do?”
That gets my attention. I turn and walk back toward her.
“Johnnie.” I place my hands gently on both of her shoulders. “Look at me.”
She draws in a shaky breath and lifts her eyes, staring up at me through wet lashes.
“He will pay for what he did,” I say quietly. “I’m paying him a visit.”
Her lips part slightly, but I shake my head before she can say anything.
“Don’t try to talk me out of it,” I murmur. “Please.” I lean down and press a kiss to her forehead, lingering there for half a second longer than I should before forcing myself to step away. Then I make my way downstairs.
When I hit the button in the garage, the door hums to life, slowly rolling upward as I round the front of my old white truck and climb inside. The engine roars awake beneath me.
There’s only one thing moving through my veins now. Rage.
I back out and start down the long drive, the canopy of trees overhead flickering sunlight across the windshield as leaves drift down. When I reach the end of the drive, I grab my phone before pulling out onto the road.
My fingers move quickly.
Collins:
I love you.
It only takes a second for the response to appear.
Johnnie:
I love you so much.
I push my feelings down and open another thread. My brother.
Collins:
Go to my house and make sure Johnnie is okay until I get back. Please. It’s important.
Campbell:
On my way.
I drop the phone onto the passenger seat. With no real plan, only the fire burning through me, I pull out onto the road and start heading toward my hometown.
Rage.