Words Left Unsaid (Love Hurts 3)

Prologue

Three years earlier.

At 8:28 I was the girl who had everything.

At 8:29 my whole world fell apart.

I’ll never forget the way I felt when I opened the door and saw two police officers standing there, even though my heart insisted everything was fine. It had been less than half an hour since I saw him. How could something have happened to him? He was just here. He’d just told me he loved me. He’d just kissed Tilly goodbye. What could possibly have happened?

When they told me he was alive, I was relieved. I mean, if he was alive, how bad could it really be, right? The whole drive to the hospital, cuddling Tilly in the back of the patrol car, I convinced myself things would be fine. He would be back at home in a few days, and we’d be laughing about this moment.

Seeing him lying there, tubes everywhere, scared the fuck out of me. But I still clung to the hope that everything would be okay. I remember sitting there, Tilly in my arms, clutching his hand, begging him to wake up. Mom and Dad came in and took Tilly so I could focus on Aiden. For hours I sat there, searching for any sign that he was still there.

When the doctors began tossing around words like “coma” and “vegative state,” I could feel the hope beginning to slip away from me. This might be as good as he gets. That was when the anger began to set in. We were supposed to be getting married and expanding our family. How could he leave me to handle this on my own? How could he leave Tilly?

It’s funny how quickly life can change. You hear about tragedies on the news and you think to yourself it will never happen to you. Until it does. Until that tragedy becomes your life.

Chapter One

Kiara

“You are fucking beautiful,” Aiden murmurs, taking my hand.

I smile, loving the way he makes me feel. Even after four years together, he still makes my heart race. I run my fingertips over my growing bump as his arms curl around my waist.

He pulls me up against him, his lips finding mine. “Maybe I should call in sick today,” he mutters, his voice husky.

Laughing, I push him away. “Or maybe you should go and earn some money so I can spend it all online on pretty little baby girl things,” I tease.

“I didn’t think it was possible for your shopping addiction to worsen, but I was wrong.” He reaches out and touches my bump. “Here’s hoping she doesn’t take after her momma.”

“Hey.” I laugh, slapping him across the arm.

“You know I’m kidding. If she’s half as amazing as you, then we’ve done our job right.” He presses his mouth against mine. “See you tonight, baby. I love you.”

“I love you too,” I whisper.

I love you too.

I. Love. You. Too.

Gasping, I sit up, my eyes adjusting to the darkness of the room. My heart pounds as I try to calm myself, sucking in long, deep breaths. My face is damp with a mixture of sweat and tears. I wipe my eyes, an unbearable feeling of hurt overcoming me. The dreams are so real that for a second I convince myself he’s still here. And then I wake up.

As I reach for a tissue off the night table, I glance at the clock. Tilly will wake soon. The emptiness in my heart is overwhelming, but I push aside my feelings and force myself to get up. I throw my legs over the edge of the mattress and reach for my robe. After a splash of cold water on my face, I feel slightly better. On my way down the hallway to the kitchen, I pass Tilly’s room. Peeking in, I smile at what I see: my baby tangled in her blankets, snoring softly, her long blond hair strewn all over her pillow. She’s a restless sleeper, just like her father was. Is . . .

Tilly wanders into the kitchen at just past seven. She’s still half asleep as she sits at the table, her head resting in her hands. I smile as I place a glass of juice in front of her. Mumbling a thank you, she takes it and gulps it down, her green eyes crossing as she tries to keep focus. I chuckle at how cute she is.

“Can I skip school today, Mommy?” she asks, her voice hopeful. “Maybe we can go get our nails painted again. That was so much fun.”

I let out a laugh and ruffle her mop of blonde hair. Sometimes I wonder if she’s five or fifteen. I dread to imagine what I’m in for come her teenage years.

Ellie, my sister, had decided I needed to get out of the house and indulge in some pampering, so the three of us had spent the day getting spa treatments. Tilly had loved being the center of attention, and though I’d never admit it to El, it had been the most fun I’d had in ages.

“How about you go to school and we go shopping on Saturday for a new dress?” I suggest.

Tilly shrugs, happy with my compromise for the moment.

“Besides, I thought you liked school.”

“I do,” she says, her voice quiet.

I can tell something is wrong. I raise my eyebrows at her and wait for her to elaborate.

She sighs, her mouth twitching into a frown. “What’s a bastard, Mommy?”

“Where did you hear that?” I ask her, my eyes widening. I sit down next to her and pull her onto my knee, wrapping my arms around her little waist. Her sad little face stares back up at me as I kiss her forehead.

“Tommy Rawlings called me a bastard during lunchtime yesterday. He says it’s ’cause I don’t have a daddy,” she mumbles. She looks down and my heart drops. Why are kids so damn cruel?

“You do have a daddy,” I correct her, kissing her nose. I tickle her until she giggles and pushes me away. “Just because he can’t stay with us like other daddies doesn’t mean he loves you any less, okay? You just ignore Tommy Rawlings. If he says anything else to you, you tell your teacher, okay?”

She nods, wiping strands of golden hair away from her face.

“Now,” I say, my voice serious, “down to the important things: pancakes or scrambled eggs for breakfast?”

She thinks hard for a moment before answering. “Pancakes.”

I slide her back onto her own seat and give her another kiss before retreating behind the kitchen counter to prepare her pancakes. Every now and then I glance back over at her. I hate that things are so complicated for her. I try to keep Aiden in her life as much as possible by talking about him all the time, but how do you explain to a five-year-old that her daddy can’t hug her like other daddies because he’s in a coma? She doesn’t remember his voice, or what his kiss feels like. Hell, there are things I can barely remember, and it kills me.

“You want to go see Aunt Ellie after school?” I ask her, knowing that will cheer her up.

She grins and nods at me.

I’m so thankful for my sister being so involved in Tilly’s life. Married with a little girl of her own, Ellie has almost become a second parent to her. She looks after her when I work and takes the girls on shopping trips and to the park. She makes things fun in an otherwise confused world, and I’ll be forever grateful for that.

Walking over to the table, I place two pancakes loaded with chocolate chips and berries in front of her. Her eyes light up as she digs in. I take my coffee and my own pancakes and

sit down next to her.

After breakfast, it’s a rush to get her ready and leave in time to get her to school. Brushing her hair is particularly difficult this morning because I can’t find her pink brush.

She yells when I try to use mine. “No, Mommy! It has to be pink,” she squeals, trying to duck away from me.

“Please, Tilly, just use Mommy’s brush this once. I’ll buy a brand new pink one for you today, I promise.” Anything to get this child to comply.

Her shoulders relax for a moment as she eyes me suspiciously. “With butterflies on it?” she asks.

Her pink brush had three little butterflies. I mentally calculate the odds of me finding a bright pink brush complete with butterflies today so we can avoid repeating this whole scenario tomorrow.

“Yes,” I say. What the hell. I’ll find that damn brush if I have to spend all day looking for it.