15. Chapter 15
Chapter 15
Arlo
I made her cry.
She’s crying because she pities me and this fucking injury. This is why I’ve never told anyone, especially her. I didn’t want the tears, the looks of sadness. I wanted to pretend it never happened.
But if there’s anything I’ve learned, it’s that the past doesn’t stay where you want it to, especially when the woman you love asks you about it point blank.
I don’t want to lie to her, to keep things from her anymore.
Then now is probably a great time to let her know you never actually filed the divorce papers.
Nope. That’s the one thing I can’t tell her yet. Her coming to me, to really hear me out, is a massive step in moving forward, and I can’t jeopardize that. Not yet.
I need to wait until she’s ready to hear it, and after all that I just dropped on her, this isn’t the time.
I do the only thing I feel is right and put my arm around her to try to comfort her. I’m not sure if she’ll pull away, hit me, or lean into me, but I can’t stand to see her crying.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” She hiccups .
“I didn’t tell anyone. No one knows about any of it. When I got hurt and landed in the hospital, I realized I had no one. Uncle Charlie passed away a year earlier, so there was no one left to call. I knew you hated me, and I just wanted to move on from the whole thing. So, I did.”
“You could have told me,” she admonishes. I know she believes that with her whole heart right this second, but I couldn’t tell her when it all went down.
I remember the look in her eyes the first time she saw me when I came back home. The agonizing hurt and confusion mixed with pure hatred made it clear where I stood. And I couldn’t hurt her more than I already had.
“You know I couldn’t, Rina,” I say softly.
She leans into my hold and buries herself into my chest as she cries for an injury I grieved years ago.
But you haven’t gone to the doctor in forever, even though the pain has gotten worse.
Now is not the time for my brain to point out just how much I’ve avoided everything in my life except my job.
I let her get all her tears out, even though it kills me to see. She shouldn’t be crying for me. I sure as hell don’t deserve it. But feeling her in my arms again is something I’m going to hold on to, even if it makes me selfish.
Even if it won’t last.
She clears her throat, wiping away her tears as she sits up.
“Thank you for telling me.” I see the second she puts her armor back up. Her eyes shutter, and I see the Rina I’ve known since I came back to Bluebell Falls, not the one I knew before I left. That brief glimpse of the woman I married is enough to make me question a lot of things, though .
She abruptly stands up, scrubbing her hands on her pants, and I start to panic.
“Stay. Please, we can talk more,” I rush out.
“I can’t, Arlo. I needed to know why, and you told me, but that’s all it can ever be. I can’t do more. I can’t continue to do what we have been. I needed to hear you out because I need to finally move on from this all. I promise to try to be nicer to you when I see you out around town, but that’s it, Arlo.”
No. No, this can’t be all there is between us.
I try to think of any response that will make her stay, but I come up empty. Finally telling her everything has worn me out, and mentally, I can’t think of a single thing that would help my case here.
“I’m sorry you’ve had to deal with so much alone, and I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you,” she whispers before she walks out the front door.
I’m left reeling and surer than ever that going back to therapy and getting my overall health back in order is top priority.
I also feel a huge sense of relief. Rina finally knows most of what happened, and it’s as if a huge weight has lifted off my chest. The constant guilt and longing warring in my heart have taken their toll, and it’s freeing to finally have it out in the open, even if it’s only with Rina for now.
I take a long look around at the place I’ve called home since I moved back after my accident. Shame, that’s the overriding emotion I feel. I moved back here and focused solely on work, and it’s very clear by looking at my living environment that everything else has been put on hold.
I wonder what Rina saw when she looked around. Did she feel sorry for me? Feel a sense of victory that she’s clearly doing better than I am without her? I wouldn’t blame her if she did .
What would I do now if I was the man worthy of Rina’s heart? What would I do now if I faced everything I’ve been avoiding as I let Rina walk out my door?
I’d go after her and show her that regardless of how we left things, regardless of how much I’ve fucked up things, I will always be her support. I’ll always put her as a priority.
Without a second thought, I grab my phone and keys and head to my truck. I can’t leave things the way they are right now. I don’t care if I have to sit on Rina’s porch and talk to her through the door. I need to be there for her.
Pounding on the door of Rina’s house, I wait impatiently for her to open the door. Or to yell at me. I’ll take either one, honestly.
The door swings open, and a red, blotchy face greets me.
I don’t think; I don’t consider what my actions broadcast. I just act. As I pull her to me, she sinks her head against my chest and wraps her arms around my middle. She isn’t crying anymore, thank God, and she’s gripping me like she’s afraid she’ll lose me if she lets go. I bury my face into her hair and smell that now familiar sawdust and citrus, and I’m instantly soothed.
I softly press a kiss to the crown of her head, and she steps back and wordlessly walks to her bedroom. I close up, kicking off my shoes next to hers, and follow her unspoken invitation. By the time I walk into the bedroom, Rina is just climbing under the covers, wearing an oversized sleep shirt and boy shorts.
I look around and see a chair in the corner of her room with a throw blanket on it. Quickly grabbing it, I lay it on the bed next to her and proceed to take my pants off. As long as I’ve known her, she’s had a strict rule about outside clothes in the bed, but this isn’t a “get naked and fuck” type of situation. No, this is a “let me hold you on a night that was hard on both of us and then most likely pretend none of it happened tomorrow”. So, a throw blanket is the best I can do with what I have right now.
She’s facing away from me as I climb in next to her, wearing my T-shirt and boxer briefs. We both lie there, not moving an inch and not speaking. I’m wondering if this was even a good idea, if maybe I overstepped, but then I remember she let me in with no hesitation. The tension in my body leeches out of me as I shift toward her at the same time she turns to me. Her head lands on my chest as my arm wraps around her shoulder like a practiced dance.
“This is a one-time thing,” her whisper-voice breaks the silence. “It doesn’t change anything. You leave in the morning, and this never happens again.”
“Whatever you want, Emmerdeur,” I murmur into her hair.
I have no idea where we go from here, but I do know finally opening up to her about what happened all those years ago was the first step.
The first step in healing.
The first step in living.
The first step in getting my wife back.