As I walk into the house, I shake off my nerves and prepare for the onslaught of my father’s anger. I deserve all of it. Okay, maybe only half, because the other part is Chris’s doing, but still. Chris didn’t have the right. My father was looking for happiness, and I understand that Chris is unhappy that it turned out to be his mother, but for me, it was great because my father finally found love again. He always believed he would never find anyone again after my mother died. But I knew someday he would be happy again.

That day is probably not today, though.

I don’t see him in the living room. “Dad?” I hesitantly call out to him. I’m not sure I want him to reply, seeing as how mad he’ll be, but I know there’s no way in hell I’m going to avoid this, so I better get it done and over with.

I go upstairs and after chewing on my lip and blowing out a big breath, I open his bedroom door.

There’s no one there.

Frozen, I stare at the empty room for a while, before turning around and calling out his name again. “Dad? Where are you?”

I have no clue where he could be, but then I notice the faint light coming from underneath the bathroom door. I sidestep a stack of dirty laundry and open up the door. “Da—”

What I find makes my knees wobble and my feet tremble. The world is collapsing, destroying what’s left of my heart.

I fall to the cold stone tiles and crawl to my dad’s body, which lies lifelessly on the floor. His eyes are wide open, his mouth is frothing, and in his hand is an empty pill bottle.

I don’t know how much time has passed since he came into the house and took these pills. If I can still do anything.

No matter how many times I shake him or push my hands into his chest to make him breathe, nothing changes. He is still and I am living. He is gone while I’m still here.

I knew then that I would never again call for my dad.

Because I didn’t have a dad anymore.

Chapter 30

Chris

Hugging her legs, she’s buried her head in her knees, and I can see her back going up and down, following her erratic breathing.

“I’m sorry.”

That’s all that comes from my mouth. It’s not much, and probably not at all what she wants to hear, but it’s all I can do.

“You killed him …” she mutters.

“I’m sorry, I really am.”

“He’s dead because of what you did!” she yells.

I swallow back my own tears. “Nothing I say will change that fact.”

“No.”

“And it won’t bring him back.”

“He’s gone … and it’s your fault.”

“I know that. And I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to make that up to you.”

I walk toward her, but she curls further up into the cocoon she’s made for herself, trying to protect her emotions. She’s a wreck and rightfully so. The man assaulting her has opened up old wounds that I didn’t think would be this fresh.

“Em, I am really, really sorry. I can’t say it with words, but I feel it in here.” I press my hand against my chest. “I was selfish. I was arrogant. I wasn’t thinking about the consequences of my words. How my actions would ruin your life and your father’s life.”

“I should hate you.”

“Yes, you should,” I say.

“I have to hate you. For his sake.” She glances at me and blinks away a couple of tears. “He didn’t deserve any of that.”

“He didn’t and neither did you. And you know what? I hate myself every single day of my life for doing that to you.”

She frowns, biting her lip, but she doesn’t respond.

“But I won’t give up trying to make it up to you. I owe that to you.”

She turns her head away from me, staring at the tiles on the wall instead.

“Em …” I go to her and turn off the shower so she won’t be soaked anymore.

“Just let me be …” she mumbles with a wheezy voice, definitely croaky from crying.

“It’s okay,” I murmur. “You’re all right.”

“No …” she mutters. “I’m not.”

I smile and unfurl her fingers from around her legs, but they’re quite tightly wrapped as if she’s desperately trying to hold onto her idea that she must be strong at all times. But she won’t budge, no matter how much I try.

“All right then. If you won’t come out …” I step into the tub. “Then I’ll come in here with you.”

“What?” she mutters, quickly glancing up at me before returning to her legs, but that one second was enough for me to see the dark circles under her eyes.

“Don’t look at me,” she says, turning away her eyes.

“Why not?”

“I don’t want you to see me like this.”

I muffle a laugh. “There’s nothing wrong with being weak.” I grab her arms and pull her toward me, forcing her to undo the stronghold she had on her legs. “Especially not after what just happened. What could’ve happened if I wasn’t there. And after everything that I did.”

She makes a face, turning her head away from me, probably so I won’t see her tears.

“Hey …” I say. “Look at me.”

She refuses, so I lean in closer. “It’s okay to feel bad. I’m not here to hurt you. I know I’ve been an asshole, but I do care about you. I always have.”

“He …” she mutters. “That guy almost …”

“It’s okay.” I shush her.

“No, it’s not okay,” she says, sucking in a breath. “I hate you.”

I laugh, as I pull her close and hug her tight. “Well, at least you admit you’re feeling something now. That’s better than nothing.”

Her body angles toward me, gravitating into my arms as I open them up for her. She clearly needs comfort right now, and I’m not going anywhere. She might say she’s fine, but I don’t believe a word of it.

“It’s okay …” I murmur as I wrap my arms around her. “I’m here.”

“But why you? Why does it always have to be you?” Her voice sounds desperate, as if she’s fighting so hard not to want me, but can’t.

“Because we need each other. Even though you hate my guts, and I deserve all your anger, we still want each other more than anything.”

“But you ruined everything!”

“I know … shh … it’s all right … it’s in the past.”

“How can I forgive if I can’t forget? How can I even want to be with you? It’s wrong.”

“I ask myself the same question,” I say.

“And that guy … the way he looked at me … god, it made me relive that day again. Same horror, same fear.”

I rock her silently in my arms. I don’t know what to say to make her feel better. Nothing I say or do will change what happened. All I can do is try to make her feel better about herself and feel better about what’s going on between us.

“God, I hate myself.”

“You shouldn’t hate yourself. I should hate myself,” I say, laughing a bit.

“It’s not funny.”

“I know. It’s just that I’m the reason you’re hurting. You shouldn’t feel guilty about anything. Not over your father, not over wanting or needing me. I’m the one who should feel guilty.”

“Yeah, you should,” she retorts.

I muffle a laugh. “And I do. Every day of my life, I feel like I don’t deserve you.” I smile, looking down at her teary eyes.

“But I won’t give up on you or us. I won’t because I know you need me, too. I used to think you didn’t want anything to do with me, which is why I tried to leave you alone. And then, when you came to the race track, I knew I had to do something. I was lost and I could see you were still angry about everything. We were both standing still in our lives.”

“I wasn’t … okay, maybe I was.” She sighs.

“We were both trying to make amends. You feel like you need to hate me so you won’t feel guilty about your father. So you’ll do your father justice. And I feel like I need to do anything in my power to make you happy. Even if that includes staying away from you. Except … that didn’t exactly work out the way I thought it would.”

For a second, I think I spot a faint smile on her face, but it disappears as quickly as it appeared.

“Anyway, I’m here now, and I’m not going anywhere. I’m not giving up on you, Em. No matter how many times you ask me to, I’m not going to give up on fixing this; it’s as simple as that.”