Chapter 17
Karan
Ican’t move from the bed.
The phantom warmth of Rachel’s body lingers on the sheets, her scent lingering on the pillow beside me. The kiss replays in my mind. I miss the softness of her lips, the way she melted against me for that brief, perfect moment before everything shattered.
Her footsteps echo on the wooden stairs, each one driving the knife deeper into my chest. The finality in her voice when she said “I can’t” feels like a door closing.
And I have no fucking idea how I’m going to open that door again.
I have to.
When I can finally make myself move, I follow her path to the top of the stairs.
Through the railing, I can see her curled into herself on the worn couch by the fire.
The flames of the open fire stove cast shifting shadows across her face, highlighting the tension in her shoulders, the way her hands twist nervously in her lap.
Years ago, I would have known exactly what to do. I would have gone to her, wrapped her in my arms, whispered the right words to make everything okay. Because I still had her trust.
Now, I stand frozen, watching the woman I love suffer alone.
And I’m completely helpless to fix it.
A soft sound from the boys’ room draws me away.
Their door creaks slightly as I push it open, letting the soft hallway light spill across their sleeping forms. Cayce has kicked off his side of the blanket again.
He’s always been a restless sleeper, like his mother.
Corey’s arm dangles off his side of the bed, his favorite stuffed dragon clutched loosely in his other arm.
I move carefully into the room to adjust blankets and tuck limbs back onto the mattress. Their peaceful breathing fills the space. In the dim light, I can see Rachel in their features. I see her in their slightly upturned nose, the arch of their lips.
The sight makes my chest ache.
Instead of returning to the empty bedroom, I find myself carefully crawling to the center of their shared bed. They shift instinctively, making room for me the way they always have. Corey immediately curls into my side, while Cayce throws an arm across my chest in his sleep.
The trust in their unconscious movements breaks something inside me. How many moments like this have I sacrificed for a job that’s stripping away at my soul?
The wind whistles outside, echoing in the silence of the cabin. I wonder if Rachel is thinking about our kiss and replaying it over and over like I am.
Corey stirs against my side, mumbling something incomprehensible. I run my fingers through his hair and try to remember the last time I was awake and aware enough to do this. To simply lie here and watch them sleep, to be not only physically but mentally present for these small, precious moments.
I can’t remember. It’s like the last several months are a complete haze in my brain.
No wonder Rachel left me standing at the airport without a kiss goodbye. No wonder she flinched away from my touch tonight. I’ve been slowly disappearing from their lives, piece by piece, and somehow I convinced myself it was for them. That the higher pay would give them a better life.
But lying here, with the solid weight of my sons against me, all I can think about is where that “better life” is headed. I’ve been trying to convince myself that it’s going to get better.
But will it?
Startups like True Keys don’t ever let up. They chase growth at all costs.
Fuck, what have I done?
The memory of Rachel's kiss haunts me. The way she responded initially, like muscle memory taking over, before reality crashed back into her brain, loops through my head.
I can still taste her chapstick, still feel the silk of her hair between my fingers, still see the moment her eyes changed from warm to wounded.
Sleep tugs at the edges of my consciousness, but I fight it. Maybe staying awake could somehow freeze this moment, keep the morning from coming and let me just be with my sons, with nothing else to worry about.
But my eyes grow heavy despite my resistance, and my last thought before drifting off is of Rachel. Of the growing fear that I’m losing her.
Of the terrifying possibility that I already have.