Page 80 of One Spicy Summer

He’s perfect.

Our son.

Dead.

I clutch the locket to my chest, feeling like I’m dying, too.

“I wasn’t there," I croak. "God, I wasn’t there for her.”

I turn to leave, shame devouring me, but Agatha grabs my arm. “If you leave her now,” she says coldly, “she’ll die. You hear me? She needs you. You fucked up, yeah. But you fix it. You stay. Or I’ll burn your fucking business to the ground. Try me.”

Somehow, through the agony, a broken laugh slips from my lips.

I don’t deserve another chance.

But for her, I’ll try.

For Presley and for Reese, I’ll fight like hell to make it right.

“Oh, Princess..." I whisper, staring toward the ER doors. "What have I done?"

Chapter Thirty-Four

Presley

April

“You can be so stupid sometimes,” Keifer’s angry voice snarled beside me. “I fucking hate you for making me love you so hard. You’re still so wrapped up in Rygaard’s fake-ass love, you don’t even see what’s right in front of you.”

“No,” I moaned.

His legs flung out, kicking me in the stomach over and over until he finally bent down, replacing his kicks with fists.

“You’re one dumb bitch,” he growled, each word punctuated by another blow, “and you’re finally going to get what you’ve been praying for.”

“Stop,” I mumbled, choking on the screams trapped in my throat.

I lost track of how long he used me as a punching bag before he yanked me up by my hair.

“A slut like you doesn’t deserve to live.”

I barely had time to register the words before his fist slammed into my face, breaking my nose with a sickening crunch.

“Keifer,” I groaned, sagging in his grip.

“Doctor!” someone screams.

Oh God. He isn’t finished.

Panic floods me. I try to move, try to open my eyes, but something heavy pins me down.

“No. Stop,” I beg, because for the first time in a long time, I want to live. It took several, agonizing years to realize it, but hearing my son tell me he loved me was the moment everything changed. I couldn’t go on like this. I wouldn't.

Opening my eyes felt impossible, like trying to lift a mountain with broken hands.

“No, don’t move,” someone said, cold fingers brushing my swollen face. “I’ll get the doctor.”

Their footsteps faded.

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