Present
Tears stream down his face as I finish telling him what happened that night, as I finish recalling the worst fucking night of my life, as I finish telling him how I’m the reason he doesn’t have a ten-year-old son or daughter.
I wait for the rage to come, for the anger to burn him alive, taking me along with it.
Only it doesn’t come.
Instead, he curses under his breath, stands, and pulls me into his arms.
“Fuck, little warrior. I’m so fucking sorry,” he whispers, his voice cracking as he does.
He’s sorry?
Why the fuck is he apologizing?
I’m the one who lost our baby.
“Were you not listening? I lost our baby, Marco. I didn’t even know I was pregnant.” My body trembles as I shake my head. “It was all my fault; how can you apologize to me? You should hate me.”
“No,” he snaps and pulls away from me, placing his hands on my shoulders and leaning down a little so he can look me in the eye. “Listen to me, Sloane. What happened was not your fault. It was fucking horrible, but it was not your fault. I should have fucking been there for you. You shouldn’t have had to be alone during that.” I go to interrupt him, but he shakes his head. “I don’t care that your aunt was there. It should have been me. I could never hate you, Sloane, especially not for this.”
The burden I’ve been carrying for the last decade lightens a little with his words, but that pain will never truly go away.
I nod, unable to find any words, and he pulls me back into his chest once again. I look over to the window just in time to see a flash of lightning across the sky and I’m reminded of the reason he came here to begin with. I haven’t had any issues with storms since that night. It was like it had removed any other fears I had, numbing me to anything and everything else around me.
I blink back tears at the realization that the last barrier between me and Marco has come crumbling down. I don’t know where we’ll go from here, but it feels good knowing that we both know the truth about what happened back then.
“Show me to your room, little warrior,” he murmurs.
I hesitate, and he must see that hesitation written all over my face because he chuckles. “We’re gonna sleep, baby. You’re exhausted, but I don’t want to leave you just yet. Let’s go lie down, okay?”
I nod and lead him to my room. Neither of us bother to undress before he pulls me into bed with him. He pulls the comforter over the both of us, and just as I’m wondering how the hell were going to do this, Marco makes the decision for me by pulling me into his chest and tucking my head under his chin while wrapping his arms around.
“Sleep, Sloane. We’ll figure everything else out tomorrow.”
It doesn’t take me long to drift into a dreamless sleep with his arms secured around me, protecting me and anchoring me to him.
I wake to the smell of fresh coffee, which disorients me for a moment since I live alone before I remember the night before.
The storm.
Marco turning up at my apartment.
It wasn’t a lie.
Telling him about what happened after I left.
Marco holding me as I cried.
Clinging to him as we slept.
Well… What the fuck am I supposed to do now?
I hear a muted curse coming from the kitchen and my lips tip up in a smile. I use the bathroom and wash up before heading to the kitchen, finding Marco cooking something on the stove.
“Smells good,” I murmur as I hop up onto the counter.
Marco’s head swings towards me at the sound of my voice and he smiles, winking at me before focusing back on the omelet he’s cooking.
Fucking winks.
Jesus Christ, how am I meant to resist him when he sends me smiles like that and fucking winks? I may as well just spread myself out here on the counter and give in now.
Oblivious to where my thoughts were heading, Marco’s hands land on my hips as he lifts me from the counter so I’m standing, and motions towards the table.
“Sit,” he orders.
“So bossy,” I mumble, but follow his order anyway. Of course I do, he’s going to feed me.
He chuckles darkly, but doesn’t comment.
Asshole.
Marco places an omelet in front of me with a cup of coffee before sitting opposite me, taking a drink from his own cup.
“You’re not eating?” I ask and he shakes his head.
“Already ate,” he murmurs.
I dig into the omelet and can’t help but moan as I taste it.
“Good?” he asks, and I nod.
“Are you working today?”
I raise a brow. “Are we really going to pretend you don’t already know my schedule?”
He sighs. “Alright. So I knew you were off this weekend. It’s how I knew you’d be home last night and it’s why I came here as soon as the weather started getting bad. What I really meant to ask is, do you have plans today?”
I chew my mouthful slowly, giving myself time to answer. Do I really want to spend the day with my ex? Is that really a good idea? Does he think things can suddenly go back to the way they were before? What does he expect to happen with us?
“I can see you thinking, Sloane. And we’ll take things at your pace, however fast or slow you want to go, we can. I just really want to get to know you again.”
I let out a breath before nodding slowly. “What were you thinking?”
“I want to take you somewhere. Dress comfortably and wrap up,” he says with a smirk, and I sigh.
What the hell have I gotten myself into?
This was not what I was expecting.
I expected him to take me to his apartment or to go out for lunch or something.
I did not expect him to bring me to the spot I took him to all those years ago. The spot I used to come to with my mom. The spot where we had our first kiss. The spot where he asked me out on our first date.
Or was us coming here technically our first date? I don’t know.
We sit side by side, staring out over the city. We passed a few people out hiking on our way up here since it’s a Sunday, but luckily, the bench was vacant.
“When was the last time you came up here?” Marco asks after a long silence.
“The morning I left the city. I came up here as a way to say goodbye. I know that probably doesn’t make any sense, but…” I trail off and Marco’s hand lands on my thigh, giving me a squeeze.
“It makes sense to me,” he murmurs, never taking his eyes off the view.
“What happened after that night?”
I don’t have to ask which night he’s referring to; I know exactly what he means.
“My aunt took me home once I was cleared from the hospital. I was just numb. I didn’t cry, or scream, or freak out. I wasn’t angry or upset. I just didn’t feel anything anymore. It’s probably weird, being hit so hard by losing someone I didn’t even know I had, but I fell into a deep depression. My aunt had a huge garden at her home. She had a memorial bench made with a plaque so I could sit there and talk my feelings out. Her friend, who was a therapist, thought it might help me. It did help, and my aunt’s friend recommended a specific therapist to me. I eventually made it out of the worst part of the grief, and when I did, I couldn’t stop thinking about the nurse who was there with me that night. She changed my life.”
“That’s why you went into nursing?” Marco asks.
“Uh huh,” I say with a nod. “I wanted to help people the way she helped me.”
“What made you finally come home?”
It’s a question I should have been expecting since the moment we bumped into each other at the hospital. Thinking of the reason of why I’m home brings tears to my eyes.
“My aunt died last year,” I whisper and wipe my eyes. “She had cancer, and it all happened really quickly. I stayed for a while after she passed, until Finn finally persuaded me to come back.”
“I’m sorry, baby,” Marco murmurs as he wraps an arm around my shoulders and tugs me into his side. “You’re so fucking strong.” He presses a kiss into my hair and takes a deep breath.
“What happened to your aunt’s house?”
“She left everything to me.”
“Do you think one day you could take me there? To the memorial bench?” he asks in a whisper, his voice cracking a little as he does.
“Yeah, I can do that,” I murmur and take his hand in mine.
“Thank you, little warrior.”
