Page 104 of Inseparable
“As graduation neared, my resolve was weakening. You were always beautiful, Ange, but my God, that year you really blossomed.” I cup her cheek. “And there were cracks in your veneer too. I couldn’t be sure, but I thought you shared my feelings, and I didn’t know how much longer I could stay away from you.”
She places her hand over mine, her chest visibly shuddering.
“I confided in Ayden the summer before senior class. I told him about my father and about my feelings for you. Ayden wanted me to report him, but he backed down when I told him I couldn’t put Lucas into foster care. He understood, but he made me promise to stay away from you, and I agreed, because I knew it was the only way to keep you properly safe, but I kept relapsing. I struggled to stay away from you.”
“That’s why you were both fighting all the time?” she asks.
“Yeah. He was furious every time I got close with you. I believed at first that it was because he wanted to protect you, but, later on, I felt like he pushed me away on purpose. He wanted that separation between us so he could have you himself.”
She shakes her head. “Ayden wouldn’t have done that. That’s not who he was.”
“He wasn’t a saint, Ange. He had flaws like the rest of us. He just didn’t wear his as visibly as I did.”
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
Angelina
“You can’t say that about him. You can’t cast doubt on his character retrospectively,” I protest, feeling so many conflicting emotions.
“Why? Because he’s dead?” I suck in a shocked gasp at the venom in Devin’s tone. He removes his hand from my face, pinning me with a stern look. “His death and your leaving changed me. My outlook on life is different now. I don’t care about petty bullshit, and I won’t hold back on saying things that need to be said. Life’s too fucking short. I learned that lesson early. I’ve held back up to this point, but, fuck it, this shit needs to be said.”
“I don’t see how you bad-mouthing Ayden after he’s dead achieves anything,” I shout. “It’s not going to help either one of us move forward.”
He drags a hand through his hair. “How can you say that when you’re still sitting here wallowing in guilt for something he did? You’ve thrown away your whole Goddamned life because of his selfishness, and you expect me to sit here and keep my mouth shut?”
He gets up, pacing the room, shaking his head, and muttering under his breath. Then he’s on his knees in front of me, taking my hands in his. “He knew, Ange. Ayden knew I loved you and that you loved me. He knew it when we were kids, and he sure as fuck knew it when he took you as his girlfriend. Why do you think he didn’t want to speak to me on the phone those times he called during college?” He arches a brow.
“Because he was pissed.”
He nods. “He suspected you and I were together or, at the very least, he anticipated it. Him catching us in bed that day wasn’t that big of a shock. Think back, Ange. Think to his reaction.”
“How can you say that?” I cry out, snatching my hands back and leaning away from him. “He was upset. He said he wanted us to leave him alone.”
“He also said he’d come home to tell you the truth. Haven’t you ever thought about what he meant?”
“I… in all honesty, no. I haven’t dwelled on that.”
He sits back up on the couch, sighing deeply, and his tone is resigned when he speaks. “No, of course, you wouldn’t have thought of that. You were already convinced of your guilt. You’d already meted out our punishment.”
Bile swells in my throat as his words offer a hint at his true emotions. He’s far angrier at me than he’s letting on. Not that I begrudge him or resent him his anger. He is perfectly entitled to it. I took matters into my own hands five years ago, and I cut him out of the decision-making process. I know I’d be angry if our positions were reversed. Before I can say anything, he turns anguished eyes on me.
“Look, I didn’t come here to argue with you. That’s not going to help either one of us. But I need you to at least try to look at it differently; otherwise, you’ll never be able to move past it.”
“I don’t know why we’re analyzing what he said that last day, because we’re never going to know what he meant. He took it to his grave.”
He throws his hands in the air, frustrated again. “That’s my exact point!” he yells, anger rearing its head again. He draws several quick breaths, forcing himself to regain control. His voice is quieter when he resumes speaking. “You’re right—we don’t know what he was thinking. You’re assuming he was upset about us and that’s why he did it. But I’ve spent years thinking about this as objectively as I can, and it just doesn’t add up. You said yourself once you became a couple he didn’t seem into it, and I know he knew we were in love, so why exactly would him catching us in the act propel him to kill himself? I think there was more we didn’t know.”
I’m quiet as I ponder his words. “Like him giving up football and joining the marines,” I say, voicing concerns I’ve had over the years.
He nods, and a hopeful light flickers at the back of his eyes. “I think we have to face facts, Ange. He didn’t confide in us about that, and I think there was other stuff he was hiding too. We didn’t really know him at the end, so how can we say we knew what was in his mind in that moment when he decided to take his own life?”
There’s a pregnant pause.
“How can we say he did that because of us?” His voice sounds choked as he takes my hands again. “We can’t say that, because we just don’t know. And you can’t continue to blame yourself for something that may have had very little or even nothing to do with you. With us.”
If ever there was a profound moment of clarity in my life, this is it. Perhaps, if I hadn’t fled all those years ago, I would have reached this eureka moment a lot sooner. “It might not have been my fault?”
He presses his forehead to mine. “It wasn’t your fault, babe. You’re not responsible.”
