Page 41 of Whispers of You
My dad’s voice had a slight tremor, one that made me hate myself even more—a task I would’ve thought impossible a couple of seconds ago. But I didn’t let that hatred stop me from moving and doing what I had to do.
I jogged to the entryway and threw the door open, searching for her—the person I’d know anywhere.
The image that greeted me shredded whatever was left in my chest. Wren, dropped to the asphalt next to her truck, arms locked around her legs, rocking back and forth.
My legs started moving before I gave them the command, muscles pushing harder as I ran to her. My Cricket. The woman I’d loved all my life.
I dropped to the ground in front of her, hands going to her knees. “Wren—”
“Don’t!” She jerked away. “You’ll make it worse.”
My hands hovered just shy of making contact. “I’ll make what worse?”
“It’ll hurt so much more if you touch me.” Tears streamed down her face as she struggled for breath. “I can’t. I thought I could, but I can’t. I can’t see what we could’ve had. I can’t watch you move back here, fall in love with another woman, and give her all my dreams. I can’t.”
My eyes burned as if someone had poured a bucket of acid over my head. “Cricket.”
Her nickname only made Wren cry harder. “Don’t. I know I wasn’t enough, but I can’t be reminded of that every day. I can’t do it.”
I reeled back. I’d been stabbed before. Shot. Had my arm broken by a particularly massive guy in the Russian mob. And none of that hurt even a fraction as much as this did.
The fire inside me burned impossibly brighter. The one that told me time and again just what a failure I was. Because I should’ve seen this coming.
My girl had always doubted. Struggled to see just how amazing she was. That she was more than enough. That she was everything.
Probably because those assholes who called themselves her parents never bothered to stick around long enough to make her think that she was worth their time. But I’d gone and let her believe the same brutal lie.
“I’m the one who’s not enough.”
Wren’s breath hitched in her throat, and her face lifted. Her eyes were swollen and red, her expression ravaged. “Liar.”
I wanted so badly to take her hands, pull her into my arms, and spill every truth. “I fucked up.”
Her eyes blazed. But the anger filling them was a welcome relief.
I held up both hands, silently begging for her to let me continue. “I was drowning in guilt, and I didn’t know how to face you. You were hurting so much, and it was all because of me.”
Wren reared back as if I’d struck her. “You didn’t shoot me.”
“I was late.” The words were barely audible as if dragged from my throat by sheer force of will alone. “I told you I’d be there. Promised you I wouldn’t be late.”
“You were always late.”
That only made it worse. I’d treated so many things in my life with such casual disregard, thinking that I could stroll in any damn moment I pleased. My throat tightened, putting a stranglehold on everything I wanted to tell her. “I should’ve been there.”
It wasn’t nearly enough, but it encompassed the truth. I should’ve been at Wren’s side. I’d given her my word. And I might as well have been a million miles away.
Wren stared at me as if trying to put together a puzzle when she’d lost the cover of the box. “The only thing that would’ve happened if you were there is that they would’ve shot you, too. Do you honestly believethat’swhat I wanted?”
I shook my head manically as if that might get her to understand. “You wereeverythingto me. It was my job to keep you safe. To take care of you.”
“We were supposed to take care of each other. That doesn’t mean it was your job to be my human shield.”
My jaw went hard as granite. “Five minutes difference and I would’ve been there.”
Wren leapt to her feet, green fire burning in her hazel eyes. “I don’t give a damn about the five minutes you missed that night. I give a damn about the last ten years you threw away.”
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