“Kacey, I was fucked up—”
Glaring, she shook her head. “You’re always fucked up, Jordie. Fucked up is your middle name, but I loved you anyway. I believed in the man you could be.”
He looked away as Lacey took a step toward her, her hand lacing with Kacey’s. “Kace, just calm down and maybe take a breather.”
“No! You know what he did to me.”
“Yes, but he’s been—”
“Let it be, Lacey,” he said then, looking up, and Kacey was breathless. His eyes were full of tears, but they still hadn’t fallen as he held her gaze. “I fucked up, and Kacey, I’m so—”
“Oh, don’t you dare tell me you are sorry unless you mean it, Jordie Thomas!” she snapped.
He looked down at her and nodded. “I do mean it, sugar. I am.”
She’d thought that when he admitted it she would feel better, but all the rage was still eating her alive and she didn’t know how to handle it. A part of her wanted to swing at him, smash her fist into his nose. But the other part wanted to wrap her arms around his neck and beg him to tell her she meant more than just a fuck. One thing was for sure, that was not the apology she wanted or needed.
“That’s not enough,” she said, blinking away her tears. “You made me your sappy bitch while you fucked anything with tits, forgetting all about me. The tears I’ve fucking cried, the feeling of pure defeat… You have no clue what I’ve been through. And the shitty thing is, I still wanted you there. I wanted you to comfort me, to make it all better because I believed in you. You just didn’t believe in me, though.”
When he looked up, loss was in his eyes and his shoulders slumped as he worked his lip between his teeth. He really did look like shit and she should have felt bad, but she couldn’t forget all those months of crying. Being wrapped up in a ball as she bled out their child. The pain, the hurt, the rejection didn’t allow her to feel bad. She wanted him to feel what she did and then make it all better. It was a bipolar feeling, for sure, but she felt it.
“You’re right, Kacey, and I wish I would have been there. I wish I would have done right by you.”
“Me too,” she said simply. “But instead I’m left the fool.”
“No,” he said, his chest rising and falling as he shook his head. He then looked up at her, knocking the air completely out of her as a lone tear rolled down his beautiful face, getting lost in the curls that were his beard. With his eyes so intense and striking, he whispered, “I didn’t fool you, I failed you, and I’m so sorry, Kacey. So sorry.”
Before she could say anything, he left the kitchen. When his door slammed down the hall, she jumped, her heart sneaking up into her throat. Closing her eyes, she leaned her head against Lacey’s shoulder and let out a long breath. No matter how hard she tried, or how she didn’t want them to, tears rushed down her cheeks, landing on Lacey.
Why didn’t she feel better? Why didn’t she feel like she’d gotten her closure? And most of all, why did she still love him? Why did she want to know the person who was standing in front of her more than she wanted to know what the rest of her life held? Why did looking into his eyes do nothing but make her fall all over again? The pain, she wanted to ease it. She wanted him to love her, and she was fucking stupid for that. Because he may be sorry and he may think he’d failed her, but Jordie Thomas didn’t love her.
And that hurt most of all.
Jordie always lived by the saying, “What doesn’t kill you, makes you wish you were dead,” and at that moment, it had never rung truer.
Kacey’s eyes didn’t kill him, but he sure did want to be dead after everything she said.
A baby?
Fuck.
As he came barreling out of his room, his heart was thudding so loudly against his ribs, he was sure it was going to break them all. He welcomed the pain, he needed it; he needed to be reminded of the suffering and heartache he’d caused the woman he loved. How did he expect to get her back when he’d essentially ruined her?
He didn’t deserve her.
He didn’t deserve anyone.
Rushing through the living room, he noticed that Mena Jane was in her bassinet and almost stopped, but he knew he wouldn’t leave if he did. He had to get out of there. The walls were closing in on him, his heart hurt, and playing his guitar wasn’t helping at all. Nothing was. He wanted to find Kacey, try to apologize again, but like she said, it wasn’t enough. The thing was, he didn’t know what was enough for her. He had never cared enough to want to figure that out. Even at the moment, he didn’t want to know. He just wanted to stop hurting.
When he went to cut through the kitchen, Lacey’s voice stopped him. “Jordie, you need to tell her.”
He shook his head. “Later, and let me do it.”
“Okay.”
“I’m serious, Lacey. Don’t you tell her anything. I’ll do it when I’m ready.”
She didn’t agree, but he didn’t have to look at her to know she’d do what he asked. They’d grown closer over the weekend and he trusted her. When she cleared her throat, he closed his eyes, knowing what she was about to ask.
“Where are you going?
His hand was on the doorknob, he was ready to flee, but he knew he owed her an answer as to whether he’d be back. Still, he didn’t turn to look at her. He didn’t want her to see the tears in his eyes, the defeat and utter emptiness he felt. “Out.”
Glaring, she shook her head. “You’re always fucked up, Jordie. Fucked up is your middle name, but I loved you anyway. I believed in the man you could be.”
He looked away as Lacey took a step toward her, her hand lacing with Kacey’s. “Kace, just calm down and maybe take a breather.”
“No! You know what he did to me.”
“Yes, but he’s been—”
“Let it be, Lacey,” he said then, looking up, and Kacey was breathless. His eyes were full of tears, but they still hadn’t fallen as he held her gaze. “I fucked up, and Kacey, I’m so—”
“Oh, don’t you dare tell me you are sorry unless you mean it, Jordie Thomas!” she snapped.
He looked down at her and nodded. “I do mean it, sugar. I am.”
She’d thought that when he admitted it she would feel better, but all the rage was still eating her alive and she didn’t know how to handle it. A part of her wanted to swing at him, smash her fist into his nose. But the other part wanted to wrap her arms around his neck and beg him to tell her she meant more than just a fuck. One thing was for sure, that was not the apology she wanted or needed.
“That’s not enough,” she said, blinking away her tears. “You made me your sappy bitch while you fucked anything with tits, forgetting all about me. The tears I’ve fucking cried, the feeling of pure defeat… You have no clue what I’ve been through. And the shitty thing is, I still wanted you there. I wanted you to comfort me, to make it all better because I believed in you. You just didn’t believe in me, though.”
When he looked up, loss was in his eyes and his shoulders slumped as he worked his lip between his teeth. He really did look like shit and she should have felt bad, but she couldn’t forget all those months of crying. Being wrapped up in a ball as she bled out their child. The pain, the hurt, the rejection didn’t allow her to feel bad. She wanted him to feel what she did and then make it all better. It was a bipolar feeling, for sure, but she felt it.
“You’re right, Kacey, and I wish I would have been there. I wish I would have done right by you.”
“Me too,” she said simply. “But instead I’m left the fool.”
“No,” he said, his chest rising and falling as he shook his head. He then looked up at her, knocking the air completely out of her as a lone tear rolled down his beautiful face, getting lost in the curls that were his beard. With his eyes so intense and striking, he whispered, “I didn’t fool you, I failed you, and I’m so sorry, Kacey. So sorry.”
Before she could say anything, he left the kitchen. When his door slammed down the hall, she jumped, her heart sneaking up into her throat. Closing her eyes, she leaned her head against Lacey’s shoulder and let out a long breath. No matter how hard she tried, or how she didn’t want them to, tears rushed down her cheeks, landing on Lacey.
Why didn’t she feel better? Why didn’t she feel like she’d gotten her closure? And most of all, why did she still love him? Why did she want to know the person who was standing in front of her more than she wanted to know what the rest of her life held? Why did looking into his eyes do nothing but make her fall all over again? The pain, she wanted to ease it. She wanted him to love her, and she was fucking stupid for that. Because he may be sorry and he may think he’d failed her, but Jordie Thomas didn’t love her.
And that hurt most of all.
Jordie always lived by the saying, “What doesn’t kill you, makes you wish you were dead,” and at that moment, it had never rung truer.
Kacey’s eyes didn’t kill him, but he sure did want to be dead after everything she said.
A baby?
Fuck.
As he came barreling out of his room, his heart was thudding so loudly against his ribs, he was sure it was going to break them all. He welcomed the pain, he needed it; he needed to be reminded of the suffering and heartache he’d caused the woman he loved. How did he expect to get her back when he’d essentially ruined her?
He didn’t deserve her.
He didn’t deserve anyone.
Rushing through the living room, he noticed that Mena Jane was in her bassinet and almost stopped, but he knew he wouldn’t leave if he did. He had to get out of there. The walls were closing in on him, his heart hurt, and playing his guitar wasn’t helping at all. Nothing was. He wanted to find Kacey, try to apologize again, but like she said, it wasn’t enough. The thing was, he didn’t know what was enough for her. He had never cared enough to want to figure that out. Even at the moment, he didn’t want to know. He just wanted to stop hurting.
When he went to cut through the kitchen, Lacey’s voice stopped him. “Jordie, you need to tell her.”
He shook his head. “Later, and let me do it.”
“Okay.”
“I’m serious, Lacey. Don’t you tell her anything. I’ll do it when I’m ready.”
She didn’t agree, but he didn’t have to look at her to know she’d do what he asked. They’d grown closer over the weekend and he trusted her. When she cleared her throat, he closed his eyes, knowing what she was about to ask.
“Where are you going?
His hand was on the doorknob, he was ready to flee, but he knew he owed her an answer as to whether he’d be back. Still, he didn’t turn to look at her. He didn’t want her to see the tears in his eyes, the defeat and utter emptiness he felt. “Out.”
