Page 34 of Break Point
Henry looks up and places his hands behind his neck, letting himself fall back into the chair. He exhales a long, heavily charged breath before leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees.
“I was embarrassed about my family. About my situation. And it hurt like hell to leave the way I did. But I couldn’t explain any of the things that were happening. We couldn’t—” He cuts himself off, letting his head hang for a few seconds.
“You couldn’t what?”
“You were just a kid, Bells. And maybe I was too, but an almost four-year age gap at that time made a big difference. There were things I couldn’t explain, things I couldn’t involve you in because it wasn’t safe for our families to keep in touch. But know that if I’d had a choice back then, I would’ve told you everything. I just couldn’t.”
“What happened? You’re making me nervous.”
“I’m sorry.” His blue eyes turn dark and stormy. “I couldn’t look you in the eye and lie about any of it. You’re a smart girl. You wouldn’t have believed me anyway. So I hoped, with time, you’d forget about me.”
He curses under his breath and lets out a tortured sigh.
“I told myself cutting you out of my life was the right thing to do. And for years, I let myself believe that.”
“And when did you stop believing that?”
Henry stands up, leaning against the glass railing, staring out. I get up and move to stand beside him.
“When?” I press, making no effort to hide the irritation in my tone.
He stares at me in silence for a moment before finally meeting my gaze.
“When I saw you again yesterday.”
The room feels too loud and too quiet at the same time. I can’t move.Can’t think. The word yesterday hangs in the air like it weighs a thousand pounds.
He runs his hands through his hair and down his neck, his voice heavy with regret.
“I’m so sorry, Bells. I fucked up badly. But we couldn’t involve you. I did what I thought was best at the time.”
He reaches for my hand, and I let him take it. His warm palms are rough, marked by new calluses that weren’t there a few years ago. I can’t help but remember how safe this simple, intimate gesture makes me feel. Though it’s not the first time we’ve held hands, it’s never felt like this, like I’ve stuck a silver fork into an electrical socket.
A few betraying tears slide down my cheek, landing on his hand.
“I’m so sorry,” Henry says again, his voice pleading and shaky with feeling. He looks at me and his brows pull together like it physically hurts to see me crying. His arms wrap around me and hold me tight against his chest.
I breathe him in, and he disarms me as my tears turn into sobs.
“You left me!” I gasp between trembling breaths, squeezing him harder. “You?—”
“I know,” he cuts me off, his voice low and soothing as he runs a hand gently down my head. “Please forgive me, Bells. You have to forgive me.”
“No,” I say, a sad laugh breaking through my sobs. I keep chuckling at the absurdity of staying mad at Henry forever, secretly hoping I can find it in me not just to forgive him but to let go of the pain his sudden absence inflicted on me.
“I missed you,” I whisper, the three words fractured by a shuddering breath.
A sense of relief washes over me as I finally acknowledge my own feelings and share them with him after years of telling myself I didn’t care. That he didn’t either.
“I missed you too, Bells.” His grip tightens around me. “So fucking much. Will you ever forgive me?”
“I want to,” I mutter, nodding against his chest.
A part of me feels like I already did. But I needed this. I needed to know I wasn’t crazy. That he missed me. That he still cares about me the way I care about him.
Still, I ache to understand what really happened. And I hope he’ll trust me enough to tell me.
We hold each other for a long moment. He refuses to let go, and I’m still crying, probably about a million things. I know I need to be held by him, so I don’t move an inch, afraid he might let go if I do.
