Page 78 of Chasing Clouds

“I didn’t understand why you would just leave me the way you did, knowing everything that was at stake. I needed to change your mind. But, the more time that passed, the more I began to see just how wrong things were. You wouldn’t take my calls, wouldn’t return my texts, and then when I approached you on the street, your reaction to me wasn’t one of avoidance, but of fear. You genuinely looked afraid of me, and that made me take a step back and pause. For the first time in a long time, I started questioning what the hell I was doing—not even just to you, but to me too.

“And then, to make things worse, there was your dad breathing down my neck all day, every day, and I just felt stuck. You know how he is. It’s easier to go along with him than to fight it, so that’s why I did it.”

“Did what?” I clutch the photo closer to me, afraid to hear what he’s about to say.

His forehead wrinkles with confusion and he tilts his head like I should already know.

“Issued Reid the divorce papers on your behalf.”

“You did what?” I yell, thinking back to those last couple of days when he was so angry with me. Of course he was—I would have been destroyed to receive those without any warning.

“I never should have done it.” He shakes his head. “I knew it was wrong, and I’m sorry. I just wanted you to be mine again, but I didn’t expect him to react the way he did—”

“Wait.” I hold up my hand. “You saw him?”

His expression drops and suddenly he looks sick. “I hand-delivered them—don’t you already know this?”

“No.” I shake my head, eyes wide with horror. “Oh my God . . . when was this?”

He lets out a sigh and pulls one hand from his pocket to rub the back of his neck. “Shit,” he mumbles. Slowly, his eyes move over my face to find mine, and they’re sad, haunted. “A few minutes before he was hit by that car in the parking lot. It’s my fault. I ambushed him and basically forced him to sign them. He was distracted and not paying attention, and it was raining really hard. I didn’t see it happen, but I heard the impact of the car hitting him. I knew it was him, and then his teammate was yelling for help as he ran over from his car. I’ll never forget it.”

“Did you stay to help him?” I know my eyes are begging for the answer I want to hear. I so badly want him to tell me he stayed to help, that he wouldn’t leave this person who obviously means something to me lying on the wet concrete.

“No. His teammates came running and I overheard one of them calling 911, so I left.”

My mouth falls open. Who is this person standing in front me? How could he do that?

“Patrick, how could you?” Tears flood my eyes as my heart beats wildly. Reid said this was all my fault, and now I know why.

“Don’t worry, Camille, I have more guilt about this than you can imagine, and I have to live every day with the choices I’ve made. There’s nothing you can say that will make me feel worse than I already do.” He frowns and his gaze droops with the weight he’s now carrying.

“Why didn’t he say anything to me about this?” I ask, more to myself than to Patrick, but he answers anyway.

“I don’t know.”

Oh God—no wonder his hatred toward me was off the charts. I’m surprised he even allowed me to take him home. I would have had him removed from my room at the hospital had it been me. And after everything he did for me, too . . .

Slowly, tears begin to fall from my eyes. Unbeknownst to me, it seems I hurt the one person who has come to mean more to me than anyone else, and this has me dying on the inside.

Reaching into his back pocket, he pulls out a set of papers that are stapled and folded in half lengthwise.

“What’s this?” I ask as he hands them to me.

“A copy for your records.”

Opening them, I see on top is a form titled Final judgment and decree of divorce incorporating settlement agreement. It’s dated two weeks ago and is signed and notarized by a judge who is a friend of my father’s, along with Reid, and . . . me.

“I didn’t sign this!” I shake the papers in front of him.

He gives me a look that tells me everything. Of course. This has my father’s dirty fingerprints all over it.

“And Reid saw this? With my fake signature on it?”

“Yes,” he answers solemnly.

I don’t respond. There’s nothing I can say to change this or make it better. I’m so disappointed in Patrick, so heartbroken over what’s happened to Reid.

Poor Reid.