Conviction (Consolation Duet #2) (4 page)

“No?”

He looks back up as I search for the man I once loved. Not because I want to be with him, but because I need to know he’s there. I implore him to tell me the truth. If he lies, there will never be a way for us to move forward.

“I was the broken one. I needed you so much, and all you cared about was getting pregnant. We didn’t talk if it wasn’t surrounding infertility. We didn’t touch if it wasn’t a part of your schedule. I couldn’t have sex with you because it would diminish my counts. I hated coming home. I volunteered to go on missions just because I needed a fucking break.”

His words cut me deeper than I ever imagined. They tear through any whole part of me that remained. He and he alone made these decisions for our family. My emotions and my needs were secondary in every way. I had to go through hell because he was too much of a chickenshit to fight. “You volunteered when I was already pregnant?”

“No, the ones before. When I would go on those trips, it reminded me of how it felt to be in charge of
something.
I failed at every fucking turn. Being your husband was exhausting.”

“So she was just some way to escape the horrors of being my husband?” I ask with disparagement dripping from my tongue.

“Natalie, it was a way to escape the horrors of not being man enough. It wasn’t about you. Don’t you get that?” He waits, but I don’t say a word. “It was me who wasn’t able to give you, my wife, the woman I would’ve laid my own life down for, a baby. I was inadequate on every level. She didn’t see that in me. She saw the strong, virile male who wasn’t a failure. I needed her to take the pain away.”

“Was she worth it?”

“It wasn’t about her.”

“Would you go back and do it again?” I ask with raw pain drowning my words.

Aaron looks away and then back again. “She gave me something you weren’t willing to give anymore. She looked at me like a man. She looked at me like a hero. In her eyes, I was someone worth loving. I needed that. I deserved that.”

“Would you do it again?” I ask again.

“I don’t know!”

I look at him, and he knows me well enough to see the hurt, anger, and despair in my eyes. He knows that was the end of any chance he had.

He just lost me.

Completely.

“Fuck!” I scream and throw the glass against the wall. It’s been forty-eight hours since I last saw her face. Two fucking days. I haven’t slept. I can’t eat. I want to rush back to her house and take her and Aarabelle. I need her like I need air.

But I have to stay away.

He’s my best friend.

He’s her husband.

I’m a piece of shit.

“Dempsey, open the fucking door!” I hear someone, but I’m not moving.

“Suck my dick!” I yell back and reach for my glass. Oh, yeah, I broke it. The bottle will be just fine. I grip the neck of the bottle as the vodka pours down my throat. I need the numbness that won’t come.

“I’ll knock it off the goddamn hinges. Don’t think I won’t,” I hear Quinn on the other side threatening me. He’s the last person I want to see. Like I need a talk about why loving her was a bad idea.

“Go away,” I reply, taking another swig of what I’m hoping will give me a break from the hell I’m living.

I hear the wood splinter as Quinn kicks the door in. Asshole.

“You’re going to pay for that,” I inform him.

“If you’d have opened the damn door, I wouldn’t have kicked it in.” He looks around the room, and I sink into the couch.

“Good to see you’re taking it well.”

I open my eyes then flip him off. “If you’ve come here to gloat, you can see yourself out the door. I don’t need anyone’s shit.”

Quinn pushes my leg and sits next to me. He grabs the bottle from my hand and puts it on the table. “No one could’ve seen this coming, man. You didn’t know.”

“I brought him to her. I had to sit on that fucking plane and listen to him go on and on about her.” I want to throw something again. “He wouldn’t shut up about being with her again. I just sat there, and Jackson and Mark didn’t know what to say either. None of us could tell him. None of us could talk. How fucked up am I that I wished it hadn’t been him?”

Quinn sits there quiet for the first time in his life. I reach for the bottle, but he moves it before I can grab it.

“Give it to me.”

“You’ve had enough, Demps.”

“I’m on leave! Give me the goddamn bottle,” I growl as I reach again.

Quinn smirks and I stand, ready to fight him.

“You wanna hit me, buddy? Go ahead. I’ll have your ass laid out before you get your first hit in,” he taunts and sits there lazily.

“Fuck you!”

“Nah, you’re not really my type.”

“Are you enjoying this?” I ask and head to the kitchen before he can answer me. He may have taken my vodka, but I’ll grab the whiskey.

I try to be as quiet as possible while I grab the Jameson. I get the top off and take half a swig before Quinn grabs it from me.

My fist clenches, I go to take a swing, but Quinn’s hand goes up and grabs my hand and twists it. “You wanna kill yourself? You want to be a pussy and drink yourself stupid, or do you want to be a man?”

I don’t say anything. I’m drunk, angry, and I want my girl back.

My other hand flies up, and before I know it, I’m face down on the ground with Quinn holding my arms behind my back. “Pussy it is,” Quinn laughs and uses something to secure my hands behind my back.

“Untie me, you son-of-a-bitch.” My voice is borderline murderous. “I’ll kill you when I get out of this.”

Quinn squats in front of me while I lie on the ground. “I’m not worried.” He pats my back and grabs the whiskey. “Now that you can’t do anything stupid let’s chat.”

I lift my head while glaring at him.

“You have two choices here. You can either let Aaron claim his wife back, or you can show her why you’re worth her time. It’s clear you love her and she loves you.”

I look at him incredulously. This was the same guy who told me to stay away. “She’s married to
him.
She’s not just some guy’s wife.”

“Did she tell you to leave?”

I close my eyes and see her face. She was so angry and slapped me, but I couldn’t be that guy. I can’t be the one who breaks up a family. It’s not just about Aaron . . . there’s Aarabelle to think about too. She may not be mine, but I love her as if she were. I can’t be the reason that she doesn’t have her father. If Natalie wants me, she’ll have to decide that on her own with no influence from me. I’d never stop wondering.

“No, but she was in shock.”

“You’re clairvoyant now? Wow, okay,” he pauses. “What will the winning lottery numbers be? I could use some serious dough.”

“Untie me,” I demand as I try to move my hands.

“I’m not done talking,” he states as if there’s no issue in this.

“Quinn, I promise I’ll kick the shit out of you if you don’t untie me.”

He laughs then moves to the chair, making himself comfortable. “You can try, but first you’ll need to get out. Here’s the deal. I don’t think you’re capable of making a rational decision right now. You need to sober up and figure out how the hell to claim your balls back. Right now, you’re waving a white flag to a man who cheated on his wife. Yeah, he was your friend. I get it. Are you willing to fight for her? If you’re not . . . then you don’t deserve her.”

Quinn stands and places a knife on the floor, clear out of reach. “You better run,” I warn him.

“You should be chasing someone else. Think about that and then clean this shit. You’re better than this,” he says and walks out the room.

I start to slide against the floor toward the knife.

Each inch I get closer, I think about what he said. The alcohol fog I was hoping for is lifting as the anger sobers me. Natalie begged me to take her away and fight for her. And all I wanted was to whisk her away and run. But the part everyone fails to understand is that this isn’t my fight. It’s hers.

I’ll never be able to push her away. I’ll wait forever if I have to, but I can’t fight this battle.

She has to be the one to choose me.

If she loves me like she says, she knows where to find me.

“Thanks, Rea,” I say as I place Aarabelle in the porta crib at her house.

I haven’t heard from Liam in two days. I’ve tried to get a hold of him multiple times, but he doesn’t respond. He’s starting to worry me.

“No problem. I love waking up at two a.m.” She yawns and nudges me.

Aaron was asleep on the couch tossing and turning. I literally snuck out of my own house. Since the first night, we haven’t spoken much. There’s not much for me to say. He tells me repeatedly that he wants to work on us, but it’s two people fighting to have the other let go. He wants me to let go of resisting him, and I want him to let me go. “I just need to see him. I won’t be long.”

Reanell takes me into her arms and holds tight. “Go. I’m sure he needs you.”

“I don’t know what to say to him,” I admit.

“Just talk to him. How are things at home?”

Reanell and I haven’t been able to talk except through text messages. Aaron hasn’t left my side except to sleep. “I don’t know. Rocky at best. He’s on the couch, which he’s not happy about. He keeps saying he’s going to prove how much we belong together.”

She looks at me with empathy. “I know this is hard. I can’t even imagine what you’re feeling, but I can say I’ve seen you with both men. I know the Natalie you were with Aaron and who you are with Liam. Neither was wrong, but one was definitely happier. I’m here no matter what.” Rea kisses the side of my cheek and swats my ass. “Now, go.”

I turn and head toward the man I’m desperate to see.

As I drive, I debate whether I should let him know I’m on my way. I worry that he won’t want to see me. The pain in his eyes haunts me. The need to see Liam as he was before all this is my only goal.

Guilt over leaving Aaron at home chews at my heart. It wraps around and squeezes me tight. My chest hurts, but I keep heading toward Liam. He’s who I need right now. I miss him, love him, and long to touch him.

I park and check my reflection, already hating the dark circles forming under my eyes. The red, blotchy marks on my skin from all the tears I’ve shed. The acid marks on my skin matching my insides.

I knock twice but he doesn’t answer. It’s the middle of the night and I didn’t call. I shouldn’t be surprised. Regardless, disappointment swells over me. I rest my head against the door, hoping to feel some sort of connection to him. If he can feel me here, he’ll open.