A Shattered Heart (Fractured Lives 2)

"You're wrong," I choked out. "He told me not to let go of him. I failed him." I pulled away, no longer crying. Anger had swept in replacing my grief from moments before. "I let him go. Why don't you get that? I'm not perfect like you seem to think I am," I yelled, surging to my feet. "I'm all alone now because I couldn't hold on to your brother's hand." I swept my arm across my counter, sending everything flying in every direction. My anger vibrated through me like a live wire threatening to obliterate anyone in its path.

Brian watched me with pity, fueling my fire further. I hated him for it. I didn't want pity. I wanted my life back. I wanted to rewind time so bad I practically shook from it. Why weren't we allowed just one do-over?

"Get out," I snarled at him, unable to face his pity for even a second longer. I was being unreasonable. I knew it. He knew it. That didn't stop me from pointing at my front door with finality.

The pity slid off his face like a mask at the end of a masquerade ball. Beneath it was aggravation and anger. Momentary relief filled me. Finally. I was finally no longer perfect in his eyes.

"You can get angry at me, Kat. You can blame me for all your shortcomings. Dish it out as much as you want. I'll leave you alone, but I will wait for you, Kat. I've waited half my life for you. Eventually you'll be done feeling sorry for yourself and you'll be ready to start living again. You give me a call when that happens." He leaned down to pick up his phone, which had been a casualty of my outburst. Without a backward glance he strode from my apartment.

The door closed with a resounding click behind him. I wanted to call him back. Beg him not to leave me. His words ricocheted around my apartment, inviting in the ghosts I'd refused to allow enter.

I walked with feet that felt like they were encased in cement to the front door, locking it behind him. The ghosts filled the living room, crowding in on me. They all had something to say, but all I cared about was the absence of Brian's presence. His absence cut me to the very core, leaving nothing but another crack in my fractured heart. I could feel the last few pieces of my heart break away. This was nothing new. My heart was already shattered.

With mechanical movements I cleaned up the mess I'd made and then pulled my running gear on. I was anxious to escape the ghosts haunting my apartment. Though running did little to hold them at bay as I tried to outpace them. I knew I couldn't outrace them this time. Eventually they'd catch me.

Slowing my pace to a walk, I finally allowed them in. They enveloped me in their embrace, greedily seeking what I'd denied them for two years—a voice. A voice to berate me. A voice to finally say their goodbyes. I let them all have their say. I could practically hear Jessica telling me it was time to pull on my big girl panties and adult up. Tracey's ghost was gentler, reminding me we'd always be friends even with them gone, that my heart wasn't really shattered but merely a puzzle that needed to be reassembled. Dan's ghost was the hardest, understandably. He didn't yell at me, curse me, or blame me as I'd anticipated. He simply told me he'd always love me but reminded me it was time to let them all go. It was time for me to move on.

I walked for hours, letting my ghosts go one at a time until I was once again all alone. My aloneness felt different this time. It didn't hold the bleakness I was so used to. Instead, a small seed of hope had begun to grow in the pit of my stomach. I knew what I needed to do.

I arrived back at my complex and didn't even bother going up to my apartment. I climbed in my car. I gave no consideration to the lateness of the evening as I steered the car to the destination my heart was dictating.

Only one light was on when I pulled up in front of the familiar house. Glancing at the time on the dashboard, I debated saving this for another day when it wasn't so late. I climbed from the car before I could lose my nerve. I knew if I put this off I might never find myself back here.

My feet propelled me up the front walk and three shallow steps before I could lose my nerve. It had been four months since I stood in front of this door filled with enough doubt and pain to sink a battleship. I felt lighter this time as I touched my finger to the doorbell and pushed it once. I could hear the bell chiming inside the house, followed by heavy

footsteps on the stairs. Maybe this was a mistake. What if she wasn't there?

The door swung open before I could second-guess my actions. While before there had been anger and pain standing in front of me, now there was only nostalgia and memories. So many memories my knees almost gave out beneath the weight.

"Kat?" Mackenzie asked, confused to see me standing on her parents' porch at ten o'clock in the evening. Her face wasn't as forgiving as it had been four months ago. It was more leery. She was afraid I'd hurt her again. I gulped, ashamed of my actions up to this point. Brian had been right about so many things. Selfish had nothing on me. I was the very definition of the word.

"Hi, Macken…Mac," I corrected. "I was wondering if we could talk."

She eyed me critically while trying to get a read on me. I didn't blame her caution; I'd lashed out at her last time. She was bracing herself for another onslaught. I tried to smile at her to show her I was here to make peace. My smile felt off-kilter, and I was afraid it must have come out more of a grimace by the way she frowned at me.

My heart thudded painfully in my chest at her frown. She was going to turn me away. I could tell. She had every right to. If I were in her shoes, I probably would have.

"Please," I begged, setting my hand on the door so she wouldn't close it in my face.

Seventeen

Mac didn't turn me away. Instead, she stepped out on the porch to join me. With the help of her cane she walked past me to the porch swing. I followed, waiting for her to lean her cane against the house and settle herself on the swing before joining her.

The swing swayed beneath us as I climbed on. I remembered when Mac's dad had installed it. He'd made sure it was long enough for all us girls to sit on when we were younger. Eventually only three of us could fit at a time as we grew. He'd solved the problem by installing a second swing directly in front of it. I couldn't help noticing that the second swing had been removed and reinstalled at the far end of the porch. Just another change in a long line of changes.

"Your dad moved the other swing," I said, breaking the silence.

Mac nodded, using her good leg to make our own swing sway beneath us. "It was easier when my leg was in the brace," she said, looking straight ahead.

I wondered what she was thinking. She was probably confused about my sudden appearance.

"Zach says you've been visiting him." Her voice was accusatory. She was angry.

"Yes."

"You could see him but you couldn't see me?" she asked. Her words were like darts. Quick and concise, seeking the bullseye.

I nodded in the dark. "Yes."