And I don't want that. I have to figure out how to make us good again.
My thoughts turn to Melly at sixteen, pink-cheeked from the cold, skates at her side, sitting on the hood of my old beater truck. She's laughing at something stupidI said, her head thrown back, her face lit up as if I were the only person in her world.
Then, another memory hits—our wedding day. We stood before the officiant, our hands clasped together, trembling, promising forever.
I swallow hard, bracing myself against the wall as the water streams over my face, washing away the tears.
Melly always loved me fully. She never did anything halfway. And I took that love and treated it as replaceable.
Now, here I am, hiding in the shower from a woman who won't let me have a moment's peace, and a wife I'm too cowardly to face.
I don't feel free… only lost.
