“Hey, whoa, are you good?” Trevor steps toward me and sees the picture over my shoulder.
“Oh, shit.”
Yeah,oh shit.I go and hit the call button.
Straight to Voicemail.
I start to panic. I hit call again. And again. Same thing.
I send a text.
Me:
It’s not what you think.
God, what a fucking cliche.I look for thereadindicator, but nothing.No way. I can’t and won’t let this happen.I leave my stuff as is and walk past a confused and slightly concerned Trevor. I hop into my truck, and tear out of there. I’m going home to Becky. A mixture of fear and anticipation fill me as I recognize the truth. It’s time to admit to everything—everything that led to and that happened that night.
17
THE CONFESSION
CARTER
Ipull up to a pile of mismatched and overflowing boxes sitting on the porch, and my heart falls to my stomach when I recognize the pieces of our lives gathered over the years thrown together haphazardly like they mean nothing. I rush up to the door and raise my hand to knock.
There’s no answer, and I’m starting to lose it. Did she just drop our stuff here for me to get and leave? Was that the final straw? The picture looked bad, and I know that she already doesn’t trust me. I lay my forehead against the wood. It’s cool from the evening air and soothes my chaos.
“Hello, Mr. casually cruel!” I barely get a chance to step back when the door opens, and there she is, headphones in and belting out whatever song it is she’s listening to. “Mr. everything revolves around AHH!”
She freezes before running me down, taking me in from head to toe. I know I look a mess. I haven’t combed my hair or trimmed my beard in who-knows how long, and now there’s probably a red spot in the middle of my forehead from resting it against the door. Well, my hands have been combing through my hair, but not in any attempt at grooming. I’mfeelingcrazy and the motion gives me something tactileto grip onto. “Well, well, well, I see we’ve met the consequences of our choices haven’t we?”
I don’t bother agreeing with her before I push past her into the house, grabbing the box from her as I pass by. The framed photo of us is half falling out. Becky proudly displaying the tiny ring I scrimped and scraped to buy her while I stared at the woman I somehow won.She can’t throw this away.Nope, absolutely not.
“Hey, wait a sec—what the hell Carter!” I set the box down, turn to her, and fall to my knees.
“Becky,”Fuck, my voice is a mess.“I—” I choke on my words, I don’t know where to start.I love you. You’re my world. My everything. Please know I didn’t want her. Please don’t leave me. Please take me back. I can’t breathe without you.
I look up at her and grab her hands, clutching them tightly. She rips one hand out and my heart sinks even further, until she pulls her headphone out, returning her hand to mine. Grounding myself with the feel of her, I look around at the wreckage of our house. I was only here hours ago, taking care of some chores, but not with her, with Becky, sincethatday.
“Becky. I am so sorry, for everything.” A good start, I hope. My emotions clog my throat. I feel my eyes burn with how much I feel about her, about this, about what I did. “I was an idiot, and I let my—my fear, my insecurities get in the way of being the man you needed me to be.” My throat bobs in another swallow as I search her eyes forsomething. “First you need to know that picture, it wasn’t what it looked like.” She opens her mouth, but I cut off her argument before it starts. “She got up in my space uninvited. I left immediately, and I think there’s at least one person there that can tell you as much. Hell. There’s probably footage.” She looks unconvinced, and I know this is the moment to finally come clean about it all. “I should have told you everything, from the beginning. From the moment I decided Iwantedto go into business with Billy, youshould have known.”
She stands there, eyes bouncing between mine, our hands, and her feet. “Yes, I should have.”
I squeeze her hands and she meets my gaze again. “I know, Becky.God, do I know it now.”Now, the impossible part.I look away from her beautiful face. “I need to tell you about how this all happened.”
“Carter, you’ve already told me, and it doesn’t make a difference.” Her voice is not gentle, exactly, but she’s not closing off either. Yet.
Hell. I don’t want to do this.“No, I didn’t, not really. There’s more to it, and I think you should know. Especially after the…picture.”
She freezes, and shutters go down, blocking emotion from leaking out. “No, thank you.”
“Please Becky.”
“No.” I’m about to open my mouth to protest again, but she blessedly continues to explain. “I’m not ready for that night yet.” She blurts it out, pulling away from me. She doesn’t make it a step away before I leap up and latch onto her arm, spinning her toward me. Pain is evident in every feature of her face. Already, I’ve broken through that first wall of feigned indifference, and now we’re standing here in the rubble I created. She’s hurting, and she doesn’t deserve it.
“I understand.”I really do, baby.“Why don’t we go sit down?” I nod toward the living room and she nods. I move instinctively to my spot and freeze. Another weight, this time of loss, settles over me, and I move over more, giving her space to remain in her comfortable place.
We turn to each other.
