My stomach churns, fingers curling tightly around the page.
My legs barely hold me as I move to the couch and drop into the cushions, the letter trembling in my grip. I swallow hard and tell myself whatever’s in here won’t change anything.
But I’ve always been a great liar.
Especially to myself.
Chapter Forty Eight
My sweet Kade,
If you’re reading this, then I’m gone, either by my own hand, or his. Maybe both.
He and I have always been a tragedy waiting to happen.
And I wish I could say I’m sorry in a way that matters. But we both know I was never good at saying the right things. Never good at doing the right things either.
Especially when it came to you.
You were always the good one. The safe one. The one who held steady when I spun out.
And I did spin out, didn’t I? God, I was such a mess. So young. So loud. So desperate for more. Such a fuck-up.
But you loved me anyway. You held on when anyone else would’ve let go. You believed in me, even when I made it impossible. Sometimes I hated you for that. Because no one had ever looked at me like I was worth saving... not until you.
And still, I ran.
See? A fuck-up.
Not because I stopped loving you. I did love you. Maybe too much. But I wasn’t built for the life you offered. The porch swing and the picket fence. The promises and a house full of babies.
God, I never even wanted kids. How messed up is that?
I tried to be that girl. Really, I did. But the storm inside me never went quiet. And you... you craved peace.
I wanted anything but stillness. I thought I could outrun the wreckage in my chest. Thought someone like me could start over clean.
Then I met him.
Jonathan didn’t ask me to be soft, or good, or whole. He didn’t expect anything at all... just control. And it didn’t start that way, of course. It never does. At first, he made me feel seen without needing to be better.
But that kind of love... it has teeth.
He was cruel, Kade. Not just to me. But when he was, I let it happen. Because by then, I was already drinking to cope. Already screaming to be heard. Already too broken to come back to you, even if I wanted to.
It got dark. And I wasn’t just surviving him. I was surviving me.
There were nights I’d look in the mirror and barely recognize myself. Nights I couldn’t control my anger. Nights I scared myself. But he pushed me there. He made me that way. He chipped away until all that was left was the worst in me... and even then, he told me that was my fault, too.
And I believed him.
Maybe that’s the worst part.
When the baby came, I thought I’d be different. But I wasn’t. There were days I couldn’t look at her without thinking of everything I lost. Everything I gave up. And there were nights Iheard her crying and couldn’t move. Couldn’t feel anything but regret and rage and exhaustion.
I hated her, and then I hated him for making me, and myself for letting it happen.
And sometimes, I hated you.
