“Why are you here?”
I blink at her direct question. Avery isn’t normally a direct person. The thought pushes at me, reminding me, just as she did a moment ago, that I don’t know her anymore. Not the way I once did.
“I came after the dog. I didn’t know”—I gesture at the front door—“this was your place. The door was open and—” Avery shakes her head, and I stop talking.
“No. I mean, why are youhere?” She motions around us with both arms, and I understand what she means.
“Early release.”
“How long ago?”
“Five months.”
She huffs a hard breath of disbelief and makes a quarter turn, her profile in view.
I’ve worked hard to rebuild some semblance of a life, and now I’m watching my world shake and shift, the loose stones beginning to tumble.I reach out a hand. “Avery, listen?—”
“No,” she whispers coarsely, facing me. I can’t help but notice the beauty in her fierce gaze. “You listen. Don’t you do this to me. After everything you put me through, don’t come back now.”
My heart twists as my palms lift in a gesture of innocence, which, let’s face it, is ironic. “I wasn’t going to, Avery. I wasn’t planning on inserting myself in your life. But then you showed up in mine.” I search her face, the angry pinch of her eyebrows.
“You have a lot of nerve, Gabriel.”
“This isn’t about nerves.” My hands rake through my hair. I’ve had no time to prepare, no advance notice of seeing her again. I cannot offer my thoughts or feelings in any way that isn’t messy and raw. “I don’t have a choice. Not when it comes to you.”
“Ohhh oh oh.” She shakes her head. “You had a choice. And you made it.”
“I did what was best for you.”
Avery’s eyes widen with her upset. “You chose what you thought was best for me. You didn’t let me make that choice for myself.”
I swallow against the lump in my throat. We’re jumping into churning waters, and I want to swim in the shallows. I want to ask her how she has been, what she’s been doing, who she is now. Instead, we’re picking up where we left off, as if twoyears haven’t passed and we’re still balancing on the same string pulled taut.
“You…you…” I growl with my frustration and stare into her eyes. A mistake, for certain, because all I can do is remember how much I love her. “Everything I did was out of love for you.”
“Let me get this straight.” She steps closer, the tip of her finger nearly touching my chest. She pauses, and I think she realizes the proximity is a bad idea. Her familiar scent wraps around me, and it takes everything I have not to lose myself in it. How does a starving man not eat when offered food? Not drink when offered water? Avery’s murderous expression is what stops me from reaching for her.
“You broke my heart out of love for me?”
Here it is. We’ve stripped the layers without preamble, to seep through the gauze placed on the gaping wound, and bring it all down to the crux. The truth is so damn painful, so mutilating, and that famous saying the truth will set you free? Maybe to some, but not to me. I could tell the truth, or I could lie through my teeth, and it would have the same result.
Suffocating shame.
Quietly, I say, “I broke your heart long before I divorced you.”
No response. No noise. Not even a movement. She is utterly silent. We both know I’m right.
A heavy breath moves her chest, and if it weren’t for that I’d believe time were standing still. She shakes her head. “You never loved me. You couldn’t have.”
I look into her eyes. We both know her words are utter nonsense, a falsehood not even worthy of entertainment.
I concentrate on making my voice clear, solid, and strong, because I need her to both hear and feel the sincerity of my words. “I never loved you more than the day I let you go.”
“It was cowardice,” she whispers. Her eyes swim with tears.
My hand twitches, dying to soothe her, but I bat away the ingrained response. My own tears sting the backs of my eyes.
“It was mercy.” My voice is thick. “And I’m sorry for what I put you through.”
