What I’ve always been to the people who I’ve loved the most.
Fuck.
I did this. I ruined her night. I hurt her. Just like I hurt my father. Just like he hurt me.
Fists instead of words.
Violence instead of control.
I am him. Maybe not by blood if what he said is true, but in every other way that fucking matters. In the ways that she needs me to be, I’m him. Incapable of being a good father or husband. Bent to only hurt her.
“I need space.” My voice is raw as I say the words, standing in front of her, blood dripping from my hands, because I need her to leave before I make things worse between us. Before I make this so bad that she moves out tomorrow and mails me the divorce paperwork.
Regan steps closer despite my request, her hand lifting to my chin with a gentleness that shocks me to my core.
I catch her wrist, my bleeding fingers staining her skin before I drop it like she burns. LikeIburn. The last thing she needs is my blood on her or her pretty, white dress. Maybe she’ll be able to wear it to her real wedding someday. The next one that doesn’t involve me.
“Give me space, Regan. Please.”
“No.” She shakes her head. “I’m not leaving you to deal with this alone. Talk to me, Hayes.”
“Fine,” I say, shaking my head. “Then I’ll leave.” I step towards the door needing to get away from her presence. Those eyes full of pity and way too much concern and compassion that I don’t deserve.
She gasps. “Hayes, you can’t drive. You’re drunk.”
Fuck.
“Regan.” I look at her, then really study her and see all the pain that I’ve caused worn across her pretty face. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You won’t.” But there’s tears in her eyes like maybe she doesn’t believe that either andfuck it,I know better. I already have. I am right now. And I will again until I drive her away or worse.
“I can’t guarantee that.”
Her breath shudders. “Hayes, please don’t do this.”
“Just give me a minute. Some space. A night.”
She studies me, searching, before nodding slowly. “Okay… I’ll go to my dad’s. Just let me grab some clothes. You can stay here.”
I watch her disappear upstairs, my chest caving in on itself. A minute later, she’s back with a small bag in hand. Her eyes plead with mine one last time. “Please let me stay. Let me be here for you.”
I shake my head, slumping against the counter. Because I can’t.I need to handle this on my own. Just like how I’ve done my whole life.
Her lips press together. “Okay,” she whispers. Then she steps closer and kisses my cheek—soft, hesitant, like she’s afraid I’llbreak apart if she lingers there for too long. “I’ll be here tomorrow for you, and we can talk, okay?”
I swallow and nod, not meeting her eye. “Okay.”
The door shuts behind her, and the silence that it leaves feels deafening. I let out a shaky breath and stomp toward the fridge, yanking out the tequila I’d stashed there for nights like this. I stare at it, temptation curling tight in my gut.
But Seth, Regan and everyone else is right. I don’t want to be like him, even if I am. And after forty years of fighting it, I refuse to give in anymore. Instead, I collapse onto the couch. And for the first time in decades, probably since I was a fucking kid, I break without caring how messy it feels.
Tears come, ugly and raw, choking out of me. I thought I had worked through this shit. Thought I had processed my mom leaving me, the disappointment that always lingered in my dad’s gaze, the years of never being enough for him when I tried so hard as a kid and the shame I felt never being wanted. But now I realize that maybe I never did. Maybe I’ve never made peace with this part of my story.
My mind spins, regret and rage clawing at my ribs. I’ve fucked things up with Regan unbelievably. And all I want—all I need—is to fix it. To fix this shit with her before she slips too far away from me. To explain to her everything about my past and all my fears for the future. Maybe she’ll see me as more than what my dad says I am, and we can get through this. Perhaps there’s a future that doesn’t include me being alone.
I push to my feet, staggering toward the door, already thinking of calling Seth to see if he can come pick me up. Maybe he can drive me to see her. Maybe I can get to her before she—
But the front door swings open before I can open it, revealing Scarlett. Her face is pale, her expression wrong.Panic bleeds from her eyes as she takes my appearance in.
