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  That’s why she was so scared. She needed money to get away from him, but why not just go to Myra for help? I understand her not coming to me, but she had options. Once again this is her burying her head in the sand; not facing the facts that were in front of her . . . just like before. She is so focused on problems and solutions, she doesn’t seem to realize there isn’t always only one answer for each question. I can deal with that after she recuperates. Right now, her recovery is my only focus, and when that occurs, I can leave and create my life without the weight of our past holding me down. Once and for all it will be our past.

  She still looks frail, and her skin is pale. I don’t know what I was expecting, but some improvement would have been nice. The machines beep, keeping rhythm with her heart, oxygen levels, and many other functions of her organs, but she’s breathing on her own.

  Leaning down, I brush a kiss across her forehead. “I forgot my cape tonight, Twinkle. I didn’t save you, but know I’ll always fight for you.” I follow Myra to the nurses’ station where we leave our information, and they promise to call with any updates and give us the schedule of visiting hours. We reach the waiting room outside the doors to ICU, and I tell Myra to go on. I’m going to stay here all night in case she needs me.

  “Don’t give up on her. Don’t give up on y’all.” His words are somber and serious.

  “I never did. Now it’s time.” My words are sincere. All I feel is agony.

  Chapter 22

  Phoebe

  I try to swallow, but pain radiates down my esophagus. I feel like I’ve been on an all-night bender and am desperately craving water. Prying my eyelids open is torture and exerts strength I am not sure I have. The dimness of the room starts to soothe me back to sleep, but a movement I catch out of the corner of my eye has me on high alert. I remember Drake and the fight, but I don’t remember anything after. I hope he isn’t looking for another round because I’m not up for it. This was one he took too far, and I will do whatever it takes to get away; I will involve the police, Myra . . . even Luke if that’s what it takes. I may have been naïve in thinking I could handle this. Maybe I was reckless in seeking out a relationship like this, but I’m not stupid.

  I hear some rustling, but I’m afraid to look over. Making as little movement as possible, I force my eyes all the way open and turn my head. I’m speechless with what I can deduce. Luke, my protector, is sitting in a chair, staring at me. I realize I’m in the hospital . . . my home away from home, but his gaze is unwavering as he’s silently pleading with me to assure him I’m okay. “Luke,” I sigh. Immediately I begin choking from the lack of moisture in my throat, and he’s immediately pushing buttons, gently lifting my back off the bed to help me. Nurses rush into the room, flooding it with light causing me to wince in pain.

  “Jesus . . .” I hear him gasp. He hasn’t left my side even with the activity happening in my room, and this is the moment I’ve been seeking. A place I thought I had lost, a place I’ve been yearning for . . . his arms. My home, my safety, and my family. I foolishly threw it away, didn’t take time to process the consequences at the time, and for that I can only blame myself.

  The staff asks me a slew of questions, and I answer appropriately. When they leave, the silence ensues, tension and questions fill the room. “Are you ready to tell me the truth now, Phoebe?”

  By the tone of his voice, it seems a bit unnecessary. “Do I really need to?”

  “No, you needed to tell me twenty-four hours ago before this happened. I have sat here all night, struggling with guilt, wondering how the hell I missed what was going on. I guess it boils down to you not trusting me anymore and me not knowing you.”

  “That’s not true. You knew I was lying to you.” His words are like a hot poker stabbing into my heart. He’s the only one in my life I trust, even when I don’t trust myself.

  He scoffs at me. “Like I said, you were always a shit liar. The subject matter was a dead giveaway. You would never sell that house. You might want to erase what we were to each other, but not your parents’ home. I was with you through those times. I remember holding you, keeping you together on the days you just wanted to smell your mom’s perfume or hear your dad’s wisdom. I know exactly what that house means to you.” He runs his hands through his hair, frustrated with this conversation. “I don’t want to do this now, you just got the shit beat out of you, by a man that I warned you about years ago. I do have to know why. Why would you let him in your life when you pushed me out?” The pain in his words causes me to bleed out more than I ever have. I knew he hurt, I know I hurt him, but I have never had to face the devastation I caused. I wreaked havoc on his heart and mind. And then I left.

  “I didn’t allow him in my life, he was just there one day and refused to leave. How much do you know?”

  “More than you. They found the drugs at your house, but you aren’t in trouble. He sang like a canary. You should’ve trusted me.”

  “I should have trusted you four years ago. I should have never left. I should have reached out. I should have held on to you and never let you go. I have so many regrets, Luke. Where do you want me to start?” My head hurts, tears are blurring my vision, but this visceral pain seizing my chest is the worst. Purging the pain and remorse of my soul will hopefully heal his.

  “I told you, I’m not doing this now, Phoebe. You need your rest.”

  “Who’s the one running now? Afraid Katie won’t approve of you being in the same room with an ex?” Words are flowing from my mouth before I even consider the recourse of their meaning. I sound like a jealous, petulant child taunting him, and I hate it. I hate the way he makes me lose control, but I love the way he makes me feel.

  He whips his head around and stalks towards me. “What the hell is that supposed to mean? Katie has nothing to do with my life and where I spend it. I’m not running, but once again putting your well-being above my wants.” Slapping me across the face would have been less painful.

  “I know you were with her in New York. The ‘dashing duo’ off for wonderful adventures.” I acknowledge I was hurt, but I never knew I was mad. I have no right to be, it is not my place. He was allowed to live his life, he wasn’t betraying me. But, it still feels like a betrayal.

  “We were never together. Not like you’re thinking. She was moving to New York to pursue her modeling career. It was just convenient.”

  “So you didn’t fuck her? You didn’t live with her?”

  His eyes narrow. “Like you were fucking Drake? Living with him?” He looks to the door, forming an escape. “Doesn’t feel good to have your transgressions thrown in your face, does it? And whatever I did with Katie, I did after you discarded me like I was last week’s trash.” I can’t watch him walk out the door. This could be my last chance.

  “I never slept with Drake. I have never given that piece of myself to anyone but you. My body and my soul have always been yours.” He freezes, and I keep talking. “I saw you leaving the ballet that day. I wanted to run after you, call out to you, and beg you to talk to me, but I didn’t.”

  “Why?” The deep baritone of his voice is cracking with emotion. I am reaching him on some level.

  “I was scared. I was ashamed of what I had set in motion. I hated myself for ruining us and I didn’t want to see you hate me. I couldn’t live with that.”

  He stumbles back, turns and faces me. He’s fading in front of me, the façade of his anger is turning into pain. I’m making him relive it all again. Once again, the hatred I have for myself is flowing freely through my veins. I’ve hurt him enough. “I could never hate you. You know me better than that. I fucking worshiped you. My dreams were to live with you by my side . . . end of story. I don’t care if we were in New York or New Mexico. You by my side, happy, healthy and whole is the only thing I ever wanted. You stole that from me. I was in the same town for a fucking year, and you never once reached out to me. You knew I was there, and you proved what I was worth to you by ignoring me. So don’t hand me this bullsh
it about your fears, your embarrassment. It’s laughable. A fucking joke like the mockery you made of my love for you.” Each tear he’s shedding is killing me. Each ounce of pain I’ve caused him is tearing my heart open, slowing its beat. He is angry, and he has every right to be. He doesn’t understand because I have never explained it to him. I don’t even know if I can now, because I don’t understand it myself.

  I try to steady my voice, portray a calm I hope he’ll listen to. “Luke, it had been three years. I had just finished chemo and was trying for the ballerina position. I was floundering, not able to tap into the passion I needed to compete at that level because I had shut down.” His eye roll stops me for a minute. He has every reason to doubt me. I have to make him listen. “The only thing I knew would work was you. Since the day I met you, you’ve held every spot in my heart. It was you who fueled my zest for life . . . for love. I called Myra and asked for the box of music, the CDs you made me. He sent me something else, a box of letters. I read every single one that very night. I never moved from the floor, devouring your words and longing with regret that I wasn’t here to share those days with you. I should have been. I fucked that up, Luke. All on my own. You can’t punish me anymore than I’ve punished myself. Just like I can’t apologize to you and make you forgive me. I am sorry … for all of it.” I take a deep breath, trying to rationalize my thoughts, they’re all over the place, and I need them to reach him. “I found out you had moved to New York, and Katie was with you. I was jealous, eaten up with it. I was mad at you without cause. I was really mad at myself for what I allowed to happen. I told you to move on, my actions shouted that to you, but when I thought you had, I derailed. Went right off the cliff, and until I stopped spinning I was in denial. I told myself all those years. It was you that did this to us. Your decisions tore us apart. I told myself that until I couldn’t stomach to hear it anymore, and even then I knew it was a lie. I did this. I broke us, and in turn I ruined us both. I didn’t go to you that day because whatever happiness you had found without me, I wanted you to hold on to it. I was putting you first for once. I was sacrificing my desires for what I thought you needed. Maybe I got it wrong, but it wasn’t from lack of trying.”

  “God, Phoebe. The years away from you I was lost. Rambling with no sense of purpose. I pushed on and kept to the plan I had for us. I kept telling myself that the day you came back I would have everything in place. But you never came back. Each day my hope dwindled until there was none. So yes, I fucked her. That’s all it was because it’s all you left me capable of. I can’t fucking love anyone because you took it all. You sucked me dry, and I have nothing left to give.” He has so much to give. He has given so much and still doesn’t see himself like I do. He is my savior.

  “The day you allowed them to take our child,” his sharp gasp of air draws my attention to his face, and I see him cringe with the pain my words create. “I don’t blame you anymore. I understand now, but that day was the worst day I’d faced in my life. I didn’t know how to deal with it. I was scared, had just lost both my parents, embarked on the most amazing journey with you, then was told I was pregnant and my cancer was back in the same sentence. I wanted that piece of us for you in case I didn’t make it. I needed to leave my mark on you because you were forever imprinted on me. I wanted the same for you.”

  “I never allowed them to take our child, I allowed them to save your life. The woman I was hopelessly in love with and couldn’t live without. You were not just a mark on me; you were my fucking heart, Phoebe. You made it soar and fill with love, then you took it all away. I know nothing will ever replace what we lost, but I loved you so fucking much, and I knew you would survive and if not, I was dying with you. I knew as long as you were breathing then I could. I knew our baby being taken from you was hard; I lived it too but was never allowed to grieve because I was too busy fighting for you not to destroy us. I made the decision to keep you, not our child, because I knew I would spend the rest of my life loving you, making it up to you, and filling our house with children. We couldn’t keep that one, but I would’ve given you so many more. I would’ve been by your side if you’d let me.”

  “Luke,” I sob out. “You are talking in past tense, like none of this can be reality. Do we really not have a chance?”

  He breaks eye contact for a moment before looking back in my eyes, “It’s past tense because that’s what you made us. I offered you my past, present, and future and you didn’t want them. I don’t know what we are anymore, I just know we aren’t what I envisioned.” I let him walk out the door. I had no more fight, no more hope left in me. My actions were callous and cruel that day, and in two hearts broke that had deserved to be one.

  The next few days were a blur. I was fine medically; the swelling had subsided during my first night before I woke up. Emotionally, however, I was a basket case, which led to me calling Brett.

  “Hey, Buttercup.”

  “Ca-can yo-you come here anytime soon?” As soon as his voice came over the phone a dam broke inside me, and I was hysterical. During the past years, I cried, even sobbed, but this felt worse than anything else. Facing my past and the mistakes I’ve made is much different than rehashing them in my mind.

  “Phoebe, what’s wrong?”

  “Everything,” I wail like a five-year old.

  “I’ll be there. I promise.” Just knowing he’s coming is enough to calm me down. True to his word, he and James arrive that evening, and are a tad mad that I wasn’t up front with them about everything that had happened.

  “I’m being released tomorrow. I’m fine.” I try to reassure them.

  “What did you get yourself mixed up with?” I explain all the sordid details to them, and their reactions range from shock, fear, and disappointment to anger.

  “You could have been killed. Damn it, Phoebe you had options. When are you going to learn you aren’t alone in this world?” James who’s usually so meek, surprises me with his outburst.

  “I know I’m not alone. I just didn’t want to involve anyone in the mess I was caught up in.”

  “Now you’re splitting hairs because that excuse is the same as saying you are alone. And what the hell were you thinking getting involved with him?” Brett is always the one to call me on my bullshit.

  “At first, I felt lonely. Then came the ‘oh fuck’ thoughts because I was caught up in some serious shit that was way over my head. Next, came the wanting to run scenario, and finally I wanted to fight. I wanted to fight for every time I hadn’t in my life.”

  “And what did the lawyer and Lucas have to say?”

  “Myra and Luke, well I am not a fan favorite of those two at the moment. Myra went on a tirade about keeping me under lock and key, and Luke and I . . . we had a discussion, a coming-to-Jesus meeting I guess you could say. It wasn’t pretty, Brett. The veracity of what I caused has finally sunk in.” He gives me his ‘no shit’ look mixed with an ‘I told you so,’ but thankfully, doesn’t voice it.

  “What do you want? Don’t think about it, don’t try to pretty up your answers, just straight from the gut, what is your biggest desire in this life?”

  “Luke,” hands down it had always been and always will be.

  “Well, Buttercup, we have some groveling and hard work ahead of us.”

  “How long are you here?”

  “We’re finished for the season touring, so until I make definite plans, I’m here as long as you need me. James, well, he’s now self-employed, so you get two for the price of one.”

  “You can stay here tonight. The couch seems comfortable. Tomorrow, we move into my house and take control of the life I need to live.” Making the decision to truly move on, right my wrongs, and declare what I want is petrifying. It’s also the only way I can show Luke what I want, what he really means to me, and even if I have lost him, he needs to know just how worthy and loveable he is. It’s time I give him back the gift he gave to me so many years ago . . . unconditional love.

  Chapter 23

&nb
sp; Luke

  I should have never allowed those wounds to be opened. I can’t believe I lashed out at her while she was battered and pouring out the truth to me. The only truth she has spoken in over four years. I knew she would be fine physically, I had checked and double-checked with the doctors. I don’t know why she thinks she needed to leave her mark on me, and our child would have been the only way to do that. She is forever wound into my soul. How did she ever think I would be able to purge myself of her? I didn’t need a baby, or empty promises, I just needed her. She let me believe year after year that I was what broke her, that I destroyed us, when all along it was her. Her damn naïveté and the fact that she always worried that she loved me more.

  I loved her before I knew what love meant. Sure, you say it to your parents from the time you’re able to repeat the words they say to you; but to truly experience the word love. I never did until I loved Phoebe. Even that word seems inadequate, but there’s no stronger emotion. Love is supposed to be the end all be all word to describe how you feel, and in truth those four letters don’t even scratch the surface of how I felt about her. How I feel about her, because no matter what, she will never be a past tense of my life, even if I need to put her there to move on. I’m grateful that my parents came back last night and I can leave soon. I need to get away from her, and knowing she is here, not a ghost of memory, is enough to drive me insane. To be present in my life but unavailable, and this time it’s all because I won’t let her be. I can’t and won’t go through that again.

  She had such little faith in my love for her, in her love for me that she chose to walk away. She chose to end us, and that ended me. Instead of staying and getting through everything together. I feel like I failed her if she couldn’t believe that I loved her that much. I watch a car pull up in the driveway next door, and two males and Phoebe emerge from it. What the hell? She turns and looks at me on the porch, strumming my guitar, refusing to drop my gaze. I do the thing she was so good at, I turn away. I eventually hear the door shut and begin playing ‘Amnesia’ by 5 Seconds to Summer, silently pleading that I could forget every minute of the last four years. I crave the peace, the mind numbing feeling to come over me, but no matter how much I search for it, it never reaches me.