Chapter 55 #2
A woman can overcome a broken heart. I imagine it comes with a lot of self-blaming. ‘I picked the wrong one,’ kind of thoughts, probably. And then one day, like with all heartache, it doesn’t hurt as much. They move on, and they learn from the experience.
What is there to learn from the realization that your father could give a fuck about you if it meant his career was on the line?
Breaking Lauren’s heart was the hardest thing I ever had to do. I hated the way she looked at me now—like she wasn’t sure she knew me. I could make it all go away right now. I could tell her the truth, and let her father be the one on the receiving end of her distrustful eyes.
But then I’d be breaking her heart all over again, breaking it in ways I was sure I’d never be able to fix.
It’s well understood that a woman can overcome a broken heart when it comes from a lover.
It’ll take time, but she may eventually rise above the damage, renewed and ready to tackle whatever life throws at her next.
It makes her stronger. But the kind of pain that comes from a father’s betrayal?
There’s nothing to learn in that. That shit will stay with her forever. It will not make her stronger.
“I can’t,” I said resignedly. “I really can’t.”
“Of course!” She let out a frustrated sigh.
“What? Is it some big, bad Montgomery family secret? Huh? You used to tell me secrets all the time. Remember, Kain?” A few tears pooled at the rims of her eyes, falling as she continued to shout at me.
“Remember how you used to tell me I was special? Remember that first morning we went all the way, and you told me you were mine forever? Was that real? Did you ever love me? You never said it. I had to ask you! Only then did you confirm, but you never said it outright. Don’t think I didn’t notice.
You avoided the word like it was some kind of disease. You never loved m—”
“Yes, I did!” I matched her volume, startling her just a little.
Shaking my head, I closed my eyes to force back the water I felt forming in them.
When I opened my eyes, I confessed, “And I told you often. I slept in that hospital room for two weeks straight. It was the first thing I’d tell you every night, as I came in, and the last thing I told you every morning, before I left. ”
She said nothing as she processed the revelation.
“Lauren, I still—”
“Two weeks,” she interrupted, doing the math.
“I was asleep for two weeks and two days. I miscarried in the morning, two days before I woke up. You were there, right? You said you were. Was that when you decided to leave me and not come back? Were you mad at me for getting pregnant? Is that why you—”
“Don’t even finish that question,” I warned. It was clear where she was going, and it couldn’t have been further from the truth. “No… No, I wasn’t mad at you for getting pregnant.”
I was offended that she’d even imply that I was capable of something so disgusting. Like I would try to punish her for wanting to have my child. If it were up to me, I would’ve never left that hospital room. She had no idea what I was up against that summer.
“I stayed that morning,” I revealed. “Every day before that, when visitation hours kicked in, I made sure I got my ass out of that hospital room before either of your parents showed up and called security again. Not that morning. That morning, no one was gonna make me leave. Lauren… I was a fuckin’ mess.
“Do you remember that night after Amir’s funeral, and you noticed I didn’t cry?
You said my emotions were gonna catch up with me and I wasn’t gonna know how to deal with it.
After you were shot, I shed tears for the first time in almost ten years, but I kept it together.
I thought that was the worst of it. I thought you had it all wrong about my emotions catchin’ up with me.
“I kept it together for thirteen days, holding onto the belief that you would wake up, recover, and we would be alright. I kept it together because I hadn’t lost you yet.
And that kept me grounded; it kept me sane.
And then I woke up one morning, and discovered you had been pregnant with my…
our baby – and that we’d lost it. All in the same sentence.
And I’m not mad at you for getting pregnant, but goddamn…
That was a really fucked up way to find out.
“And for that, the last shred of composure I had left… Gone. I did not know how to deal with that loss of control. My emotions finally caught up with me, and I felt everything. All at once. Every emotion I’d ever bottled up—from the pain of losing my grandmother when I was fuckin’ thirteen, all the way to that moment when I learned we lost our baby…
Every emotion I’d ever suppressed between those two moments in time hit me all at once. And I cracked. I shut down.
“Later your father stopped by your hospital room, having already been briefed about your miscarriage, and when he found me there, he…” I sighed.
“Let’s just say it was a conversation I’m glad you didn’t have to hear.
I was put in this position where I had to choose—it was either you or Silas, and it may not look like it from where you stand, but believe me when I say, I chose you.
I was gonna to get on the stand and testify against my own father.
That may not seem like much to you, but that’s a damn death wish where I come from.
And then a few hours before I took the stand, I found out… ”
I looked into her eyes and for the second time in my adult life, I felt helpless. She waited for me to finish, but I just couldn’t do it. I couldn’t tell her the truth.
All I said was, “Silas had nothing to do with you gettin’ shot that night.”
Lauren seemed to snap out of the trance I held her in, her eyes rolling incredulously at my admission.
“Oh,” she nodded sarcastically. “I didn’t realize I had so many violent enemies. You mind telling me who else it could’ve been?”
“I can’t.”
“Yes, you can! You don’t want to!”
She was absolutely right about that. I’d sooner take a bullet to the chest before I ever dished out the kind of pain telling her the truth would cause.
“Do you trust me?” I asked.
“I trusted you—”
“No,” I interrupted. “I’m asking you about right now. Look at me and tell me if you trust me or not.”
She struggled with the words on the tip of her tongue, holding them back like they were desperate to escape, and she needed to keep them in. “I don’t…” she cried, swiping the back of her hand along the tears falling down her cheeks. “I don’t… I don’t know.”
“You do know,” I told her. “Why else would you seriously be askin’ me about that night, so ready to take my word for it, when I have every reason to lie? Do you trust me?”
“I hate you,” she squeaked out, but not in a way that expressed that she meant it. It was a concession, a white flag before she finally admitted, “I hate that I still do. I trust you.”
Relief blanketed my chest. Somewhere in there, somewhere behind that defensive attitude and those leery eyes… my girl was still in there. I took a step forward, not audacious enough to touch her again just yet, but close enough that it established an air of intimacy.
“Believe me when I say I can’t tell you.”
She bowed her head, pushing out a breath as though she was exhausted.
Without warning, Lauren leaned in a little closer, taking me by surprise when her forehead pressed against my collarbone, just above my chest. In the quiet of the moment, all I could hear were the sounds of her sniffing and breathing.
When my hand came up around her, she shook a little less, relaxing into my embrace.
“Did I ever love you?” I brought back her original question. “Baby, I never stopped.”