Page 67 of Deprived No More

“How did you find me?” he asks. “Never mind…” He huffs, shaking his head a bit.

I watch as Mark puts out his cigarette on the rim of his wheelchair before dropping it onto the ground behind him. Looking around the area, it appears littered with cigarette butts. I hope they aren’t all his.

“I needed to see you.”

“You didn’t get a good enough look at me the other day?”

“No, that’s not-”

“I know what you meant. I’m sorry. It must be big for you to come looking for me. Did they read the ultrasound wrong? Do I have a big clot in there after all?”

“No,” I answer hastily. Of course he’d think that. “It doesn’t have anything to do with that. I… it’s personal.”

Mark’s dark brown eyes connect with mine at this revelation. It’s not the heat from our previous encounter. More bewilderment, I think.

I try to take another cleansing breath but feel I’ve only inhaled the pungent second-hand smoke he’s left behind, so I push through. “First, I’ve received a couple of texts from an unknown number-”

“Ah, I get it. And it had to be me.”

“No. I mean, I don’t think it’s you. But after seeing you after all of this time, then the arrival of the texts, I felt like I needed to address it. For my own sanity.”

I watch as Mark turns his face away from me, but he doesn’t make an attempt to leave. “It wasn’t me,” he grumbles. Somehow, I already knew. I wanted to convince myself it was him, so it wouldn’t be Holden. Yet I don’t think he’d lie to me. Not after all that’s happened. What would he gain?

“I thought I’d put everything that happened behind me. But I’m struggling. I don’t really know what I expect to happen after meeting you. But seeing you recently felt like a wound opened up that had been stitched closed for years.” Pulling this itchy wool sweater tighter around my chest, I’m unsure if it’s the abrasive fabric or my nerves that are rubbing my skin raw. It’s clear I’m not going to be able to handle some of the tougher questions. Why did you put Rohypnol in my drink? How could you have stalked me if you really cared about me? Why did you have to argue with Jake?

“Say what you came here to say, Kat,” Mark says, looking down at his feet resting atop the footrests of his wheelchair.

“I’m so mad at you. You were my friend. I didn’t date back then because I’d been hurt repeatedly by the men in my life. But I trusted you.” A sob breaks free, and I inwardly cringe that I’m losing control in front of him.Get your shit together, Kat.“I’m angry that you took advantage of my friendship. I’m angry that you tried to hurt me. I’m so angry that you fought with Jake, and we’ve all lost him now.” There’s no stopping the torrent of tears now. I’m just going to dump this in his lap and go. Say what I’ve kept bottled inside for far too long. “And I’m angry that you’re hurt.” I choke out. Unsure why it’s important he grasp that I feel that way, but it feels vital.

“Kat,” Mark says as if trying to comfort me. “Please, stop.”

“I need to say it. To get these thoughts that have been stuck in my head out in the open. I hate what you did! I hate all of the fallout from that time! Everything that happened because of this. Because of these god-awful choices you made!”

Through my waterworks, I see his head fall in shame. He needs to know this isn’t my way of kicking him while he’s down. I didn’t come here to try to humiliate him. I only want to move forward. Swiping the tears from my face and trying to reach down deep to say one last thing before I go, I look at him and wait until I have his full attention.

As if sensing the pregnant pause, he looks up at me. I can’t read his expression, but I can’t worry about that any longer. I need this to move on. To find peace.

“But I don’t hate you,” I tell him with conviction. I’ll never move forward if I’m chained by hatred. My intent was not to cause undue harm by confronting him. However, it needed to be done, and now I can finally try to move on.

Turning away, I try not to consider what he’s thinking but just put one foot in front of the other so I can return home to my family and be the wife and mother they deserve.

Sitting in my car, I allow myself to expel any remaining tears before I head home to pick up my children. To cleanse this time from my life once and for all. Once I feel I can speak clearly, I pick up my phone.

“Hey, kitten. How’s my girl?”

“Nick, we need to talk.”

CHAPTERTWENTY-SIX

Nick

Shit. What now?Just when I thought we were moving in the right direction, there’s something so important happening that she can’t talk to me about it over the phone. As much as I’d like to pretend this could be about one of her parents or Rachel, I know she wouldn’t let me fret about it all day if it wasn’t something related to us.

But I refuse to push her about this until we’re alone. I need to be able to comfort her if what she’s saying is upsetting. She tried to mask her voice and sound strong. But I know my girl. She’d been crying. I know she’s been struggling with the past. Why the hell did Mark Snow have to come to the ER the one night she was working?

Gazing at my watch, I realize she’s home with the kids. It’s going to be a frustrating evening waiting until they’re down before we can speak. But I have to keep it together. Be the supportive husband she married. I consider calling to offer to pick up take-out, but Kat will want the distraction of preparing a meal. She seems to find pleasure in it. One thing’s for sure. I’m going to need a stiff drink to steady my nerves until the kids are in bed.

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