Page 24 of Word to the Wise

I can’t keep giving chances, but I’m still willing to make this work. Call me.

Your love,

Carter

There’s more. So many more. But I delete them before I keep falling down this rabbit hole. It’s a mirage of hurt, rage, and guilt. A wave I’m used to at this point.

Carter’s apologies crash like waves. A roll of emotion that evolves from anger to regret. But something about seeing it in writing. Seeing how he’s turning this in on itself until it’s my fault has tears springing to my eyes.

How did I believe it for so long?

I’d buy this. Time and time again.

I would tell myself that he could change. That we would go to therapy, and he’d work through whatever he was holding onto from his childhood. His father was abusive toward him and his mom, and I wanted to believe if he resolved those issues, he could be different.

I would convince myself he loved me enough to try. That if I just gave him a little grace and loved him a little more, it would heal whatever broke him inside.

I believed in him, so I’d take him back every single time.

We’d be good for a few weeks, and we’d start to pick up the pieces. We’d find our routine and settle into our daily norm. We’d be better for a short while.

But we never did end up going to therapy, and we never actually worked through anything. And slowly, the wheel would once more spin into motion.

It always started small. He’d get frustrated over a dish in the sink, or I’d ask for an explanation as to why he was out so late. He’d start to blame me for little things, like the fact that he couldn’t find his favorite tie. It always started with yelling, and I tried to tell myself that’s where it would end this time.

He’d learned his lesson.

But a rough day turned into a rough week, slowly becoming a rough month. And then…

He just needed to let out a little tension.

A cycle I fed into time and time again. And instead of healing himself, he extended his pain to me.

I’m done, even if it hurts.

I love him, even if I hate him.

So many conflicting waves of emotion battle inside me. But I can’t go back, not this time.

Even if he gets the help he needs, I can’t recover what I’ve lost in the process. I might not ever find love, but I deserve respect. And I hope someday I get it.

My fingers shake as I stare at my computer screen, knowing I’m not ready to face this, but I don’t have a choice. The emails all flood together as I stare at them through blurry eyes and try to make sense of them.

Work has always been the most important thing to me—aside from Carter.

He took that too. My creativity and my drive.

Pressing my lips together, I close my eyes and take a shallow breath through my nose. I lose myself in the day-old, rain-soaked smells of LA and drown my thoughts in the bustle of the streets below.

I escaped.

Tonight, that has to be enough.

There’s only so much I can control, and what I do next is going to be part of that.

Opening my eyes, I click on a new email. My fingers are shaking as I hover over the keys. My heart races with what I know I need to say. It won’t solve anything, but it’s the first step. Until I take it—until I say it—this isn’t done.

I can’t heal.

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