A Broken Soul(35)

Putting the car in reverse, I pulled out of the driveway and took myself back to my apartment. It wasn't until I made it to my bathroom and got the shower running that I finally allowed what he said to fully register. As I stood beneath the hot spray, I let myself feel each wound he inflicted with his words. Then I cried. I gave myself until the water ran cold to let it all out. Because he wasn't worth more than fifteen minutes of my time.





Quinn



IT TOOK WAY too goddamned long for my feet to become unstuck from the floor, but once they did, and I rushed to the front door, it was too late. Her car was gone, and I was left with a sense I'd just screwed up something amazing. 

God, I was such a fucking asshole.

As soon as the words left I mouth I regretted them. I wish I could have taken them back, erased the pain I caused to fill her beautiful eyes. But I couldn't.

Falling to the couch, I dropped my head in my hands and worked on breathing deep. I hadn't had a panic attack in over a year. Yes, the nightmares from that night still plagued me, but I'd been stupid enough to think I was making some sort of progress. If that had been true, I wouldn't be sitting in my living room, a cold sweat coating every inch of my body as my heart threatened to pound right out of my chest.

I inhaled through my nose and slowly exhaled through my lips while I counted silently in my head. That was the only goddamned thing that joke of a shrink taught me. A year of talking about my feelings from that night, and all I came out of it with was knowing how to stave off a panic attack once I felt it coming on.

I knew it wasn't going to do me any good, but the department in Seattle wouldn't let me return unless a doctor signed off. My body might have healed, but they wanted to make sure my head was screwed back on straight before letting me fight fire. That was just one of the many reasons I left, came back to Pembrooke after the accident.

Without Addison, there was nothing for me in Seattle, so I figured why stick around? Her parents hated me for killing their daughter. The department was watching me like a hawk. Addy was gone. Pembrooke was the only option. At least here I had my folks to help out with Sophia. And with my dad's reputation, I knew I wouldn't have any problem getting on with the fire department. I expected to start feeling better.

But that never happened. The guilt of what had happened followed me from Washington to Wyoming. There was no escape for me. My carelessness had killed my wife, the love of my life. There was no chance of me being happy anywhere.

Or at least that's what I thought. But then I met Lilly.

She made me remember how to laugh, how to find the little pleasures in day-to-day life. The guilt was still there, always would be, but when I was in her presence, I actually felt like I could breathe. Something about her soothed me, calmed the tumultuous swell of emotion that raged inside of me for the past three and a half years.

And how did I repay her? I hurt her …  again.

I hated myself for how I'd acted, but stepping through that doorway and seeing her and Sophia curled up together? Well, it was like being transplanted back in time. It actually took me several seconds to realize it wasn't Addison lying in that bed with our daughter, that I hadn't gotten my family back. And when that realization hit, all rationale thought flew out the window.

I just …  reacted.

Badly.

Because what I felt when I realized it was Lilly, not Addison, was something so disconcerting I couldn't handle it. I liked seeing Lilly curled up with my daughter. No, that's not right: I fucking loved it. For just a split second, I'd let myself enjoy having a woman in my house, taking care of not only Sophia, but in her own way, me as well. And I wanted that. I wanted her. And I realized then that I could never truly be just friends with Lilly.

So I did the only thing I could think of to push her away. Her parting shot was still resonating in my head several minutes later, making me feel like complete shit.

My heart rate was finally starting to return to normal by the time Sophia woke up. "Where's Ms. Lilly?" she asked drowsily, as she rounded the couch, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

"She had to get home." I scooped my daughter up and rested her in my lap. It was something I did with her every morning I was home. Even when she crawled out of bed, she was still only halfway awake. She'd sit with me until she woke up all the way, resting her tiny head on my chest. It was the only time during my days that I was able to push the past from my mind and live in the moment. "I heard you had a bad dream last night," I said a few minutes later.