I watched as his body settled back against the wall, like he couldn’t handle standing on his own for another second. I wanted to go to him, to comfort him . . . but I couldn’t force myself to move.
“When Liv gave birth to our son, I guess it went bad. There was a lot of bleeding, she had to go into surgery, and afterwards she was told that she’d never be able to have another baby. That alone was hard for her to deal with, and then . . .” He cut off, and a single tear ran down his cheek.
“Brody?” My voice was barely above a whisper, but I couldn’t manage anything more. I was terrified of what came after the “and then.” Brody had told me they didn’t have children . . . and with how this story started, and how tortured his face was, I knew it didn’t end well.
“My son was only six months old . . . I had to go to the store for Olivia, and she wanted time alone, so I took Tate with me. It was really icy that morning, and we were stopped at a red light. The guy who came in behind us couldn’t stop, and when he hit us my car slid into the intersection.”
Tears slid down my own face at the pure anguish in Brody’s voice. I’d never heard the kind of torment that I was hearing from him now, and my heart broke for him as I tried to prepare myself for what would come next.
“A car had been flying through and clipped the back of us, and I couldn’t stop the car from spinning no matter how hard I tried. And God, I tried so damn hard,” he cried. “We hit a median, but another car that had been trying to avoid us ended up swerving into us instead. I don’t remember anything after that until I woke up in an ambulance. I freaked and tried to get out, to get to Tate, but they kept me on the stretcher and shut the doors. They didn’t tell me until after I woke up again in the hospital that he was gone,” he choked out, and more tears fell down his face as he slid down the wall. “The car that had hit us up against the median rolled my car over it, and more cars coming up to the intersection slammed into us. He was dead before another driver could come and try to check on us.”
Moving from the bed, I went to where he was sitting on the floor and kneeled between his legs. Grabbing the hand that wasn’t in his hair in mine, I placed my other hand on his cheek and attempted to brush away the wetness there. His body was trembling, and the guilt that crossed his face had a sob tearing from my own chest as my heart seemed to break even more for him.
“Liv was never the same after that,” he said and finally opened his eyes to look at me. “I can’t say if she’s depressed or bipolar, because the way she acts is so unlike an
ything I’ve looked up. But she’s not well, and that’s my fault. And Tate . . . I killed him after only having him for a few months.”
“Brody, no. It’s not—you can’t put this on yourself. It was an accident, and what happened when she gave birth was something no one could have stopped from happening.”
“I did this to them, Kamryn! I did this to her,” he yelled as he let his head fall back to the wall. “I’ve taken everything from her.”
“No! None of this is your fault.” Cupping his face, I waited until he looked at me again. “You can’t do this . . . you can’t blame yourself for any of this. What happened—I can’t imagine how difficult it was to go through that, Brody, and I’m so sorry you’ve had to. But it’s not your fault. You have to see that,” I cried when I saw the look in his eyes. He didn’t believe me—the guilt that poured off him said it all. He’d been carrying around the knowledge for years that he’d ruined his wife and ended his son’s life. But he was so wrong—how could he not see that?
“That,” he began, “is why I need to make sure she’ll be okay. She’s not well, and I need to get her help . . . I owe her that much after all I’ve done.”
I shook my head for long moments, trying to figure out the right words. Kinlee and Jace had said it was like everything that made Brody Brody had been gone for years. I didn’t see that side of Brody, because I didn’t know what he was like before everything happened. But he was never going to heal from this if he kept blaming himself. “And what about you, Brody? You’ve lost just as much as she has. Who’s supposed to help you?”
“Do you not see that that’s what you’ve been doing?” he asked. “I’ve never felt as alive as I do when I’m with you. And even when I’m not, I feel like I finally have something to live for again. I was just going through life, going through the motions, just to get through the days. Nothing mattered, and all I ever felt was pain. You’ve changed that. You are helping me.”
MY EYES HADN’T left the clock since Brody had fallen asleep two hours earlier. With each minute that passed, my body grew more and more tense, as it did every night he fell asleep with his arms around me. It hadn’t mattered last night or tonight that I’d known Olivia wasn’t coming home until Monday. She always found some way to interrupt us when she wasn’t supposed to be home. I had no doubt she’d do it again this weekend.
Some part of me thought Olivia had to know what we were doing, because there was no other explanation. Brody said she only called if he wasn’t home, but then there would be days at a time when she was gone and he wouldn’t see or hear from her. It never failed, though, every night we were together—whether it was at the hotel or one of the nights we risked staying in my condo—she called.
I knew I had no right—since technically, Brody wasn’t mine—and I knew it only made it harder for both of us, but that didn’t stop me from begging him to stay. My pleas never made a difference, because we both knew he had to leave. But it was in those moments, as I begged Brody not to go back to his wife, that I felt exactly like what I was. A mistress. A home-wrecker. The other woman. And every time he left another part of me died. I would get physically sick from the guilt of our secret, but my love for Brody would have us in the same heartbreaking situation the very next time we got the chance to be together.
I couldn’t stay away from him, and I couldn’t say no to him no matter how much I hated this.
How many movies, stories, and songs had been written about people like us? And how many times had I wondered why the girl in my situation couldn’t see that the man would never leave his wife? That my character was just a plaything and, in the end, would be left alone and shattered? Every time the girl would be so sure that he would choose her in the end, and it never happened. Still, no matter how many red flags there were in our situation, I knew Brody and I were different.
My body flinched as another minute went by on the clock, and I prayed for sleep to find me. Another minute gone, and I began counting Brody’s deep, rhythmic breaths to soothe my tightly strung nerves. Another minute . . . when it happened, I squeezed my eyes tightly.
“Please, no,” I whispered just as Brody jerked awake and searched wildly for his phone.
“Liv?”
I crawled off the bed and began searching for my clothes, not wanting to hear her cries for him to come home.
“I had too much to drink at Jace’s, I crashed on the couch.”
My stomach rolled at how easily our lies had started coming. He’d been with me since last night, but the sure tone of his voice would’ve had me believing that was exactly what had happened.
“You told me you weren’t coming home until tomorrow night. I didn’t know it would matter to you if I went to hang out with my own brother, Liv.” His eyes searched my face and a deep sorrow filled them. “All right, you’re right. I’ll be home in a bit.” Brody ended the call and tossed his phone on the bed. “Babe, please don’t cry.”
I hadn’t realized I was until he said that. “Don’t go, Brody, please don’t go.”
“Kamryn—”
“What do I have to do to keep you here with me? Name it and I’ll do it—just don’t leave,” I begged with a sob and curled into his arms when he pulled me back onto the bed.