Page 106 of Inseparable
He nods, his jaw rigid with strain. He doesn’t avert his eyes as he stares at me and admits, “I left her in the house with him knowing he was going to attack her.”
I draw upon every ounce of acting ability to keep the shocked horror from my face. “What? Why would you do that?”
“I’d done everything to hide my feelings for you, including pushing you into your house that night before he could read anything on my face. I told Becky to go home, and I stormed inside, dragging my father with me. He threw a punch, and I fell on my ass in the hallway. The front door was still open, and I knew Becky was watching.” He smooths a hand over his chest, and I snake my arm around his waist, squeezing tight.
“I had a lock on the outside of my bedroom door because I didn’t want that asshole in my room. Didn’t want him seeing all the drawings of you on my walls. He never seemed to care, but that night, he broke into my room. He’d seen it all. He knew. As I lay on my ass on the floor, he kicked me repeatedly while taunting me about you, telling me he knew you were alone in your house and he was going to pay you a little visit. I went crazy, jumped up and hit him, and we really got into it, lancing blows at one another. Then Becky appeared, screaming, trying to pull him off me. I saw it. The look in his eye when he swung his gaze around on her. He asked who she was, and she told him she was my girlfriend, little realizing what she was doing. I saw the gleam in his eyes, the need to exert control, to inflict pain.”
He looks away, pulling out of my embrace, and resting his head in his hands. I smooth a hand up and down his spine. I don’t speak, letting him do this his way, in his own time.
After a bit, he lifts his head up, torment brewing in his eyes. “I told him to take her. I said I wouldn’t tell if he agreed to leave you alone.”
I can’t keep the shocked look off my face this time. I open my mouth to speak but close it again. I have no words.
“He nodded his agreement, and I walked out of the house, ignoring Becky’s cries and pleas as he dragged her inside.”
His breath flies out in anguished spurts, while I clamp a hand over my mouth in horror. “I drove around to the back road to keep watch on your house. I wanted to make sure he didn’t renege on his deal. I saw him haul Becky out an hour later. She was flung over his shoulder, limp, and beaten to a pulp. He had two bags with him and I knew he was leaving.” A muscle clenches in his jaw. “I should’ve followed him. Gotten help for Becky, but I didn’t. I stayed outside your house until I was confident he wasn’t coming back. Then I went to the party and got wasted. Crashed there so I had an alibi.”
He disturbs the earth underfoot with the toe of his boot. “Now you know how truly black my soul is.” He gives me a wry smile. “And you think you’re not worthy of me.” He shakes his head.
I’m in complete shock, and I need time to process, but I can’t let that statement go unanswered. “Maybe that’s why we found each other again. We’ve both done things we’re not proud of. Things we would do differently if we could. What’s important is that we feel remorse, and I can tell you do.”
“I am remorseful,” he says, twisting around a little. “But I wouldn’t do it differently. Protecting you will always come first.”
“I’m not going to criticize you for that.” What he did was wrong. So very wrong, even if he believed he was doing it for the right reason, but it’s over and done with now, and he’ll be dealing with the guilt for the rest of his life. Besides, he did it to protect me, and I’m not going to start yelling at him for that. Who knows what might’ve happened if he hadn’t intervened. The thought makes me uncomfortable—that Becky suffered in my place—but I’m not going to pretend I’m ungrateful either. “And you can’t tell me not to blame myself for Ayden’s actions if you’re going to blame yourself for that night. You didn’t beat Becky up; that monster did.”
His eyes penetrate mine, and I see the conflict there. He wants to argue against my rationale, but he knows it’s an argument he can’t win. Instead, he says, “I thought you’d run screaming for sure after hearing this.”
“I see you, Devin Morgan. I’ve always seen you. I promised I’m going nowhere this time, and I meant it.”
“Thank God.” He hugs me to him, and we don’t talk for several minutes. My mind goes into overdrive, thinking of the secret I’m still keeping hidden.
“I went to see her a couple years ago,” he admits. “She’s married now with two kids. She went crazy when I appeared at the door. Threw a few things at me. Said if I darkened her door again she’d have me arrested. I never even got one word out.”
“That sounds like Becky, although I can’t fault her in any way for reacting like that.”
“Me either. And it was selfish of me to go there. I wanted to apologize and thank her for keeping it secret—the fact she had spoke volumes. He clearly terrorized her into keeping her mouth shut, and that only added to my grief. But I shouldn’t have gone near her, it wasn’t fair, and I was only thinking of appeasing my guilty conscience. I wasn’t thinking how my presence would affect her.”
I nod distractedly, the secret ready to burst free. “Dev?” I ask quietly.
He detects something in my tone. “Yeah?” His voice is cautious.
“I have something I need to tell you too. Do you think you can handle more of the heavy because this is going to be the heaviest of all?” My heart is jackhammering in my chest, about to take flight, and I think I’m going to be sick, but I need to purge the secret. He needs to finally know.
His face pales, and the intensity in his eyes sucks all the oxygen from the surrounding air. “Why do I get the sense this is going to destroy me?”
My hands shake. “Because it most likely will.”
He stares at me, as if he can delve into my mind and extract the words before I speak them. Our chests rise and sync in tandem, and you could cut the tension with a knife. “I want to hear it, because we can’t move forward until all the secrets are laid bare. Like you said to me, nothing you tell me at this point will scare me away.” He intertwines our hands. “We’re in this together. We always have been.”
A tear trickles out of my eye, and my voice is trembling as I rip the Band-Aid off. “I discovered I was pregnant four months after I left.”
Shock splays across his handsome face, and his skin looks leeched of all color. His eyes pop wide, and his gaze slams into me. “What?” he chokes out.
“I was pregnant with your child. He died,” I whisper. Caustic pain rips through my chest, and the sobs start in earnest. Devin is shell-shocked, frozen stiff, and staring off into space. “I stopped drinking straightaway, the minute I found out, I swear, but it was too late.” Tears cascade down my face, and the shock on his face mixes with horror and confusion. “Our son was stillborn at birth,” I explain, openly sobbing now. “He looked so perfect, so beautiful, but I killed him. I killed him too, and as long as I live, I’ll never forgive myself for that.”
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
Devin
