“I’m going to need some more coffee after these tears,” I announce, standing to refill my cup.
“Make me jealous why don’t you,” she calls out.
“You want anything?”
“Coffee,” she begs, but she already told me no to caffeine now that she's pregnant. “No, I’m good,” she replies as the doorbell rings. “I’ll get it,” she calls, getting up and moving to the door.
“Sy? Is everything okay?”’ I hear her ask, and I feel the world spin around me. Oh, God. He’s here.
“Is Holly in?” he asks and the sound of his voice centers me. I didn’t realize how much I missed hearing it, how much I needed to hear it.
“In the kitchen,” I hear her tell him, so I quickly face the sink, trying to busy my hands. I have no idea what I’m going to say. I’m not prepared for this. Yesterday, I was full of answers, full of passion to see him. Now, I’m second guessing that he even wants to see me again after the way we left things.
“Holly, I need to run. I’ll call you later,” Kadence calls from the door. As I turn, I see him standing before me.
“Okay, bye,” I say back, never taking my eyes from his gaze. We stand like this for a moment, leaving Kadence to find her way out.
“Hi,” he finally speaks, breaking the silence between us.
“Hi,” I reply, feeling like a fool.
“You came to see me.” It's not a question but a statement. He folds his arms across his chest as he leans back on the doorframe.
“I did,” I admit, wishing the awkwardness wasn’t there. Long gone is the easiness between us, and I know it's my doing. I put that between us, but that doesn't make it better.
“I’m so sorry,” I break first after a few beats. I’ve realized I’m not ready for him to shut me out. He walks forward, his arms envelope me, and as much as I don’t deserve it, I’m thankful for it.
“I wanted to tell you. I swear it.” I cry for the mess we find ourselves in.
“Don’t talk,” he instructs, picking me up and carrying me down the hall to the bedroom. I don’t argue, the tears too heavy and my heart too broken.
“We’re going to make it. Tell me we are going to make it, Sy,” I plead, feeling painfully disconnected from him. From us.
“We’ll talk tomorrow. Just let me hold you.” He places me in bed and tucks my back to his front.
“I wish I could take it back.” The need to explain myself is too much to hold in; I can’t keep the words inside. He doesn’t respond, doesn’t tell me it’s okay, because it’s not and I know it won’t ever be. He just holds me as I cry for the baby we lost, for the lies that were told and when I’m all cried out, I ponder once again on the thought of whether we can pull through this.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Sy
Her blonde hair splays out over the dark pillow and her white skin glows in the first light of the morning sun coming through the window. She’s so fucking beautiful. I know she’s awake, know she’s probably pretending to sleep, like me. Is she too frightened to talk, or does she not know what to say, or how to react? I know I shouldn't have left it this long to connect with her. Hell, leaving her wasn’t the best thing, but I just couldn’t get a handle on my feelings. I didn’t expect to be caught up in Redwick with Mackenzie and waiting for her surgery, but now I’ve had the time to work through the emotions of the past and the present, I want to shake her and ask why? Why couldn’t she trust me with this? Why, when I thought she was coming back to herself, was she just pushing that hurt further down?
“Sy?” she whispers beside me, breaking through our charade.
“Why?” I try and keep my words short and soft, but I know I can’t control the harshness in my voice.
“Why?” she repeats back to me.
“Yes, why? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I had only found out two weeks before–” her body shudders when she drags in a large breath. “Before the shooting,” she finishes. I force myself not to react. Knowing that fucker Edwards took this from us just fuels my rage. If I could go back and kill the fucker again, I’d make sure it was more painful.
“And after, were you going to tell me?”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?” I pull her shoulder back to watch her face. Her eyes are puffy and red; her tear-streaked cheeks only make it harder for me. Fuck. She’s been dealing with this on her own for that long.
“Each time I went to tell you it became harder and harder,” she cries as her hands come up to cover her face, still hiding from me. Always fucking hiding. I pry them down, wanting to see her when I talk to her, but afraid I’m going to push her too far.
“You should have told me, Holly.”
“I was going to, but then I found out about Keira and I just didn’t know how it would compare with what you already lost,” she answers me, but her reasoning just pisses me off. How could she think that?
“You think that makes a difference, Holly? Yes, I lost a daughter, but you had my baby inside of you. No matter what you think, that matters to me.”
“I’m sorry, Sy,” she hiccups as tears drown her face.
“How could you keep this from me?”
“You don’t know what it’s been like, what I’ve been through.” She wipes at her face, the panic still there, but I can see it’s not as strong.