I thought if I stayed, eventually it would destroy you too. That you would get pulled into my orbit and dragged down with me.
I thought I could spare you that.
I thought I could absorb all the damage myself and somehow save you from the fallout. Like some kind of emotional lightning rod, drawing all the poison into myself and leaving you untouched.
But that’s not how love works.
Love isn’t choosing for someone. It isn’t deciding what they can handle or protecting them from hard truths.
Love is trusting them enough to choose for themselves. To see all of you, the good and the terrible, and decide whether they want to stay.
And I never gave you that chance.
I never trusted you enough to offer it.
For that, I am truly sorry.More sorry than these inadequate words could ever express.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Popeye
Trudy closed the journal and held it in her lap as I stared at the ceiling. Christina’s words still echoed in my head, each one a knife twisting deeper. She apologized. After all the lies, the running, the secrets that had cost me twenty years with my daughter, she apologized for not trusting me enough. For deciding what I could handle instead of giving me the chance to prove I could handle anything if it meant keeping her and Grace safe.
And the worst part? She was right.
I felt Trudy shift beside me, her hand finding mine in the soft glow of the bedside lamp. We were still tangled together, skin to skin, and I realized I needed this. Needed her warmth, her presence, her realness to anchor me as everything inside me twisted and churned.
I didn’t know if I would have understood back then. Didn’t know if I would have been strong enough or smart enough or selfless enough to let her do what she needed to do to survive. I’d been a different man in those days—harder, angrier, more concerned with loyalty to the club than with understanding the impossible choices women like Christina had to make just to keep breathing.
Would I have tried to fix it with my fists? Probably. Would I have made it worse? Maybe. Would I have lost them both anyway because I couldn’t accept that some battles can’t be won with violence? Yeah. Probably that too.
The anger was still there, simmering under my ribs like hot coals. Anger that she’d taken Grace from me. Anger that she’d lied for so long. Anger that she’d carried all that darkness alone instead of trusting me to help shoulder the weight.
But underneath the anger was something else. Something that felt too much like grief.
Because Christina was gone. Had been gone for years. And I’d never get the chance to tell her I understood now. Never get to say I was sorry too—for not being the kind of man she could trust with the truth. For being part of a world that had broken her so thoroughly she couldn’t see any way out except to run.
“I’m fine,” I said, even though we both knew it was bullshit.
“You’re not,” Trudy said quietly. “And that’s okay.”
I let out a harsh breath, scrubbing a hand over my face. “I don’t know what the fuck I’m supposed to feel right now.”
“What do you feel?”
“Everything.” The word came out rough, scraped raw. “I’m angry. I’m sad. I feel fucking guilty as hell. I’m confused. I’m—” I stopped, shaking my head. “I don’t even know anymore.”
Trudy was quiet for a moment, then she said, “That sounds about right.”
I looked at her. “What?”
“You loved her,” Trudy said simply. “She was the mother of your child. She kept your daughter from you for twenty years. She survived things no one should have to survive. She made choices you’ll never fully understand. And now she’s gone and you can’t ask her why.” She paused. “Of course you feel everything. How could you not?”
Something in my chest cracked. “I’m supposed to be over this by now. She’s been dead for years. I’ve got Grace back. I’ve got you. I should be able to let this go.”
“Says who?” Trudy’s voice was gentle but firm. “Who decided there’s a timeline for grief? Who said you’re not allowed to be angry and sad and confused all at the same time?”
“It doesn’t make sense.”
