Maybe it’s for the best, at least now she can move on. She can stop trying to save me.
I down the last of the bottle and fall back to the sofa, staring at the ceiling. I can’t bring myself to go upstairs, to smell her scent, which is diminishing on my sheets. To see my son’s room that he will never use again.
The funeral was horrible, but this moment is even worse. The mourners at the service will move on with their lives—feel sad, then move on—but how do I?
How do I move on from the loss of my child?
From the loss of the love of my life?
I don’t is the simple answer. I need to learn how to live with it, and that’s what I have to do now.
I just don’t know how.
My dad tried to stay. He came to my house after, took one look at it, pulled off his coat, and started tidying up the discarded bottles. He even went shopping for me and fixed the holes in the wall before sitting with me and having a drink. But I couldn’t speak, and he had to go home to his family eventually.
She was my family.
I can’t bring myself to reach out to anyone. Instead, I get drunk and pass out, and when I wake up the next morning, I’m disgusted at what I have become. I force myself to my feet and shower, ignoring the hangover as I get dressed and clean up my mess from last night. Then I sit with a cup of coffee at the table, my fingers catching on a scratch from my and Lexi’s last time together.
I should reach out and apologise. In the bright light of day, I hate what I did to her. I lashed out in pain and grief, not thinking. I just wanted to protect her from the darkness stirring within me. I was caught in a storm of heartbreak, and instead of just feeling it, I took it out on her, but that would ruin the damage I already did. I know I was right, I would destroy her life.
No, it’s better this way.
Even if it hurts, even if I hate the fact that I’m responsible for her tears.
But even after thinking this, I can’t stop myself. A few hours later, I can’t resist, I have to know if she’s okay. I drive to her apartment and just sit outside, stopping myself from going in and begging for her forgiveness. I ache to catch a glimpse of her, to know she’s okay.
That she’s safe.
I know her new door was finally sorted yesterday, so that settles me a bit, but I need to see for myself.
I have to wait a few hours, but I see her climb out of a black car with a woman at the wheel, one I recognise from the club. She waves goodbye, but her eyes are red and she looks tired. It sends a pang of regret and loss through my heart.
Of longing.
I miss her. And when she turns and heads inside, my heart slams at not seeing her. This is all I can allow myself, but after one glimpse, I’m lost again, because I still love Lexi. Always will, always have, since that first moment she walked into my house and smiled at me…
She owns me.
Heart, body, and soul.
Forever.
Lexi
It’s been a week since I saw him, and I thought it would get easier each day, but it doesn’t. We left things so badly between each other, I don’t feel like I ever got to say my piece or gain closure on it, so instead, it lingers inside me.
Festering.
I know deep down Tyler was my person. The person. Our love transcends emotions and thoughts, we were meant to be. It’s so much deeper than just love, we’re soulmates, and even though we aren’t together anymore, I know my heart will always be his.
No one will ever replace Tyler Phillips, and that hurts.
He’s not mine anymore and probably never will be again, and somehow, I have to learn to live with that. To deal with the pain that the mere thought of him brings, and every memory, every touch, and even every scent I catch that reminds me of him.
My heart is broken, but the world doesn’t stop. I have to go back to work, back to life, and pretend I’m okay, pretend every smile doesn’t hurt, and that when I look into my dressing room mirror, I don’t see