Page 116 of It's Always Been You
I scoff again. Does he expect me to believe that?
He steps so close that our chests brush together. “Genevieve, I loveyou. I won’t ever lie to you again. About anything. You are the only one I want.”
I don’t back down, even though his words melt a little bit of the ice guarding my heart. “Yeah? And what about the blonde at the bar?Alison?”
“I don’t know her from Adam, and I don’t want to know her.” His chest heaves against mine, and I’m sick of the proximity. His masculine scent is making it hard to think straight, much less argue. Seething mad about the effect he has on me, I poke his chest again. A muscle in his neck jumps. “Do that again and see what happens,” he warns, his eyes flashing with something dangerous.
I poke him again, looking for a fight.
He doesn’t react, and I do it again.
And again.
“You’re despicable,” I growl, frustrated by how calm and collected he is. I wanthimto be the one to argue and raise hisvoice and come undone for once. Not me.
I shovehis shoulder.
Brandon watches me like he’s studying me. Like I’m something of intrigue—or the spiraling subject of some demented psychological experiment.
“What about that night I was out with Adam’s Bible study group?” I demand, grasping at straws.
Vexed, his brows pull together. “What about it?”
“You were there. With a woman.”
“You meanCora?” He gives an exaggerated eye roll. “We were there discussing Teddy’s holiday schedule. I even told you about that. Evie, this is ridiculous.”
“You were going to propose to her!” I shout, clinging to my last excuse.
“What?”
“You had a ring! Jamie told me so. You lied to me!”
He’s shaking his head. “Yes, I had a ring. And yes, I was going to propose. Only because I thought it was the right thing to do. We didn’t love each other, Evie.” He grabs my face almost roughly, his eyes anguished and desperate. “None of that was ever a secret. So stop this. Stop looking for every excuse you can find to push me away. I know you’re scared, but you don’t have to be. I’ll never betray your trust again.” Tears pool in his eyes.
“I gave you everything,” I wail suddenly, the floodgates opening as a tear spills from his eye. “Everything. And then you—” I gasp for breath, but it feels like someone has punctured my lungs and I can’t keep any air in them. “You weren’t there,” I hear myself saying, recalling the bleeding, the cramping, the indescribable pain of a loss I’ll never recover from. “Where were you?”
Brandon notices I’ve stumbled off the deep end. He grabs ahold of me, slamming me against his chest. “Evie,” he groans, his voice choked as he holds me like I’m about to fall apart. “I—”
Sobbing, I cling to him as I come undone. “You weren’t there.” I know he has no idea what I’m talking about, but I pour my heart into his shirt anyway, soaking it through. “I called you. Over and over. I didn’t want anyone else to know. But you didn’t pick up . . .”
“I know.” He buries his face in my hair as he rocks me from side to side. “But I’m here now. Okay? I’m here now. I’m here.”
Nodding, I close my eyes and allow the steady thump of his heartbeat to calm me down.
Once I’ve edged away from the brink, I tip my face back to look at him, but he keeps his face buried in my hair, holding me tightly. That still small voice that I’ve been hearing lately gently prompts me to tell him about the miscarriage. After all, doesn’t he have a right to know? It was his baby, too.
My body trembles, aching to shed the exoskeleton that’s been restraining me like a straightjacket. Maybe once I admit the loss out loud, I’ll be able to move freely again, to live my life unburdened by the grief I’ve cradled like an infant all these years. But I’m scared that if I truly let go—if I finally allow myself to begin the healing process—then I’ll forget about her.
But the baby I loved and lost isn’t a memory I want to shake.
Although, that fear is ridiculous, and I know it’s just a weak, half-baked excuse to avoid reliving the experience, to run from the pain like I’m so very adept at doing. I could never,everforget about my baby.
Faith.
Faith Catherine Montgomery.
I don’t know if the baby was a girl, really. I was only eight weeks or so along. But I named my baby Faith because I have faith that Jesus welcomed her home with open arms even though she never made it safely into mine. I also have faith that I’ll get to meet her and hold her close one day. Tell her I love her.
