Page 143 of Finding Redemption

“Keep them. I don’t want to see them.” I bite the inside of my cheek, trying to hide the lies I keep telling myself. “I’m going home early, so take them with you.”

“If that’s what you want.” She offers me a weak smile as I grab my bag and head home.

I hurry past my co-workers. I’m not in the talking mood. My life’s a wreck and I’m not pleasant. I crank the music and hit the highway. Here, the music’s loud enough that I can’t hear my own thoughts. Walker’s stopped calling but he continues sending flowers.

His texts are heartbreaking but there’s no way this can work. I’m overthinking about it. My dad died two days after I left Walker. I haven’t spoken to my mom and don’t plan to. I hate myself enough, and I don’t need her list of reasons why I should.

I open my door to boxes and what my life was supposed to be. You know, that happily-ever-after bullshit they feed to us, telling us we can have it all. Well, we can’t. Even if you find the most perfect man, it never works out.

I fall into bed and cry myself to sleep. When I open my eyes again, my room is dark, and Alden sits beside me.

“You look like a zombie. And you smell like one, too. Damn, get the fuck up.”

It’s true. I do.

I sit up, wheeling around on him. “Fuck you, Alden. Get the hell out of here and leave me the fuck alone.”

“I’ll tell you this. If not having him looks like this, you need to get your ass in gear and go get him,” he spits, the truth a projectile.

I look like shit. Tears fall down my face. If only it were that easy. “I can’t.” I shake all over.

He glares at me. “It’s been weeks, Reese. You won’t talk to him and you won’t tell me.”

“There’s no possible way we can be together, so why talk about it?”

“He wanted me to tell you he’ll be at the center on the days you’re not. You won’t even see him there now.” His mouth smashes into a thin line.

“I feel sick.”

“You don’t eat. You’ve lost about ten pounds or close to it.” He pulls my head down into his lap, playing with my hair. “When’s the last time you washed this?”

“I don’t know.” My chest hitches, and tears fall onto his leg. “I miss him, but I can’t have him. If he knew what I knew, he’d leave me. No way could he handle it and stay with me. I can’t hurt him this way. It would break him.”

“Why don’t you let him be the judge of what would break him and what he can handle?”

My stomach lurches. I hold it tight, trying to banish the nausea. “I made a promise to my dad. I’m keeping it.” I swallow hard. “And that promise doesn’t include Walker Pennington.” I scramble from the bed, tired of talking about this and him.

He pins me with a pointed stare. “Reese, you’re going to lose him.”

I clutch my aching chest; the void is eating me alive. “I already have, Alden. There’s no recovering from it.”

He stands, hauling me into his arms. “At least shower and pretend you’re good with your decision. I’ll fix some food.”

“I’m not hungry.” I push away from him and trudge to the shower.

“You’re eating.” He grumbles. “And you’re putting something on the bags under your bags.”

I flip him off as I shut the bathroom door. I drop my clothes and sit on the side of the tub to start the shower. Watching as the room fills with steam, I’m lost in the memory of Walker. The love that used to fill the cracks in my heart is starting to wear. Soon, it’ll be completely gone.

I step into the shower, letting the hot water wash away the pain. The load is too much to bear, and I slide down the wall to puddle on the shower floor. Fisting my hair, I cry until the water runs cold. The same thing I’ve done for longer than a month.

I thought I could do this, walking away from him should’ve been simple. I thought it would be easier this way. Turning my back on him, like I’ve done many times with anything I knew would hurt me, I would just walk away. But not this time. It’s not as painless as it once was. I can’t get him off my mind or out of my heart.

I sit here, emptying my soul through the tears falling down my face. I watch them wash into the drain, taking my heart with them. I miss him, but I can’t have him. And the only thing I can do about it is break now, so he won’t later.

I turn the cold water off and drag clothes on my damp body. I join Alden on the couch, and he hands me a bowl of soup. My stomach revolts.

“You need to eat. It’s getting to the point where you can’t.”