If Forever Comes (Take This Regret #2)(34)
Author: A.L. Jackson

Little fingers burrowed into my sides. “I’m so sad, too, Daddy.”

On a heavy exhale, I ran my fingers through her hair and laid my cheek on top of her head. “I’m so sorry, baby girl. I’m so sorry you have to go through this with us. I love you so much…don’t ever forget how much I love you.”

She held me even tighter. “I just want you to come home.”

“I know, princess, I do, too.”

That’s all I wanted.

I just wanted to go home.

Chapter 13

Present Day, Early October

I tugged down the sleeves of my sweater and fisted the ends in my hands. Wrapping my arms around my knees, I drew them to my chest. My eyes fluttered closed as I turned my face to the warmth of the sun that sat high in the sky. A cool breeze gusted in, stirring up my hair and rustling through the leaves of the citrus trees that I had loved so much when I purchased this house.

From my perch on the patio chair that I’d dragged out into the middle of my backyard, I hugged my knees closer to my chest.

What had compelled me to come out here, I really didn’t know. But it seemed as if I hadn’t felt the sun in so long. The last four months, I’d been consumed by darkness. A prisoner to the shadows that screamed my despair.

Today I woke to an empty house, but I was unable to force myself back into the refuge of sleep. Lizzie had spent last night with Christian. I usually slept away the mornings she was gone, and I wouldn’t rise until it was time to pick her up from school.

Today, when my eyes had flitted open, I was struck with all the pain that continually devoured me, the wounds within throbbing anew as each new morning seemed to cut them wide open.

But even as I was washed in that pain, I sensed something different. It was as if the emptiness inside me had whispered that I was missing something as the days blurred into nothingness. It was something that echoed the loneliness that ached from my broken spirit. But where before I’d given into it, had succumbed to the void that I’d accepted would always be the most prominent piece of my life, today I had the impulse to fill it. It was just a flicker, but it was there.

I will try.

I guess I’d enjoyed myself on Sunday, if that was even possible. The fresh air had almost made it easier to breathe. Almost. Breathing was the hardest part. Every intake of air was measured. Forced. As if life no longer came naturally.

But being there with Logan, Kelsey, and Lizzie had been simple. There was no pressure and there were no memories. When Logan made me laugh, it shocked me. It was as if my ears were hearing it tinkle from someone else’s mouth, a sound I no longer recognized.

And he called me Liz.

Casual. Like nothing. As if he’d known me all my life. As if it really didn’t matter all that much.

Christian never called me that. He always said my name as if it were his breath, as if it were a prayer, so much meaning held in the just the inflection of the word.

Maybe that was the problem between Christian and me. Maybe the connection that bound us was too overwhelming, too powerful, too much. Maybe a love that flamed so bright could only burn us into the ground. Maybe it was inevitable, our ruin. Maybe we’d already been set up for destruction, because something so strong made it inherently weak.

Because I knew I couldn’t handle Christian right now. Couldn’t handle the intensity of what he made me feel. He was like a burst of color behind my eyes that I couldn’t distinguish, a ball in the pit of my stomach that felt like both dread and anticipation.

He was a reminder of everything that should be and what I couldn’t have.

A symbol of what I had lost.

The hardest part was I didn’t know if that feeling would ever change. If I could ever look at him and not be knocked from my feet by a torrent of sorrow.

I opened my eyes and let my gaze wander across the yard to the swing set he’d built about six months ago.

I’d tried to talk him out of it. I’d told him he was crazy and that we were trying to move and he could build one at the new house. But he just smiled that smile and said it didn’t matter, and if Lizzie played on it for even one day, then it would be worth his effort.

And she had. She had played and played and played on it until she had abandoned it the day Christian had gone away. Since then it’d sat stagnant, like the wreckage of our decay.

Gathering my courage, I stood. The grass was damp, cool beneath my bare feet. I approached it tentatively, as if it were something sacred. I ran my fingertips up the smooth plastic of the slide then brushed my hand along the coated metal chains of the swing where Christian had spent hours upon hours teaching Lizzie how to pump her legs. I swallowed hard as I moved to stand behind the other, the infant swing Christian had so proudly hung just in case we were still living here when Lillie was old enough to use it.

My hand shook as I reached out and nudged it, giving it the slightest push. It creaked as it barely swayed. I pushed it again and closed my eyes and imagined her, what she would have been like had she been here.

Her face flashed, both the one I’d known and the one that I’d fantasized in my mind. The way she’d felt in my arms. She’d been so light, too light, so wrong. And still, I’d loved her. I’d loved her with all my heart and I’d poured it into her, praying that somehow she could feel it.

Pain clenched my heart, and tears welled in my eyes as what I’d known of her presence swept over me. I pressed my hand over my mouth as it all broke through.

Oh my God. I hurt. I hurt so bad, I didn’t how to stand up under it. It was crushing. But today I let it, lifted my face to the sky as I let it rain down on me, as I let her touch me, a caress of her spirit as she passed by.

I’d had so many hopes for her life. And I could see her here, could imagine the way she’d have smiled, the sound of her laughter, because I knew her.

Because I knew her, and without her, I couldn’t remember how to breathe. I was hit with another staggering wave. It bent me at my middle, and I clutched my stomach as I gulped for the cool fall air.

I missed her.

A sob tore up my throat. It was unstoppable.

I should have known better than this, letting it go, welcoming the remnants of her existence into this miserable life. Because I couldn’t deal with it, but I couldn’t keep myself from receiving the smallest portion of her light.

I staggered back into my house. The drapes remained pulled, the rooms darkened as I stumbled through the kitchen and into the family room. On the stairs, I held myself up on the railing, pulling myself forward, or maybe I was drawn.