Slaying The Dragon - T.K. Leigh Page 0,14

your guilt. That’s why you’re happy to stay here and help all these people, but not because you genuinely want to. You’re trying to bury your guilt in all the good you’ve been doing, but you can’t hide it forever. You can’t run away from your mistakes for the rest of your life. You need closure.”

“Maybe closure’s not in the cards for me,” I said softly. “She told me to let her go.” I spun away from him. I hadn’t had a moment’s peace in months. I hadn’t been alone in months. And, right now, I wanted to be alone.

“But you haven’t let her go, Tyler!” he exclaimed, catching up to me. Grabbing my arm, he forced me to stop. “You left to give her space. Three months is a long time to give someone space. Just…” He took a deep breath. “Just think about it and stop punishing yourself. This Tyler…” He gestured to me. “This is not the Tyler I remember. The old Tyler would have fought tooth-and-nail for what he believed in. He wouldn’t stand by and allow his brother to order him to stay thousands of miles away, instead of going after the one girl who finally taught you how to be human again.”

I sighed. “Carrying my guilt is the only thing that reminds me I’m human,” I admitted. “Without it, I’m empty. I’m nothing. I need the guilt. It’s the only way I can live with the lonely.”

Mackenzie

MY BRAIN WAS SPINNING as I flipped through page after page of a pregnancy book, the words starting to blur together. Since learning I was pregnant nearly two months ago, I got my hands on every book possible, hoping that, with a little bit of guidance, I would be able to get through this on my own. It didn’t help. I felt even more lost and confused about how to raise a little human.

I had put on a smile to assure Brayden and Jenna I was handling it, but the truth was, I was scared out of my mind. Cloth or disposable diapers? Bottle feed or breast feed? I was overwhelmed by the amount of books and advice, most of it contradictory. I felt like a fish swimming upstream, everyone else passing by, telling me what was best.

The stack of overdue bills had gradually grown higher and higher as I struggled to rub two pennies together. Every dime went to paying for the bare minimum of doctor appointments I could get away with. I was two months behind on my mortgage, my credit cards were maxed out, and my checking account balance was teetering on being overdrawn on a weekly basis. Jenna and Brayden had offered to help me out countless times, but I refused. I took after my father in that respect. I inherited his Irish stubbornness.

A loud knock on the door sounded, startling me, and I tore my attention away from one of the dozens of pregnancy books Brayden had picked up for me. Raising myself from my lush sofa, I walked through the living area and into the foyer of my ocean-front condo. I checked the peephole to see a man dressed in a messenger uniform standing there. I pulled back the door, praying it wasn’t the bank sending notice of foreclosure on my condo. Surely, I’d have to have missed more than two payments, right?

“Mackenzie Delano?” the stout man asked, eyeing the envelope in his hand.

“Yes. That’s me.”

“Sign here, please.” He handed me his scanner and I scribbled on the screen.

“Have a good day, ma’am.” He gave me the envelope and I retreated into my condo, plopping down at my kitchen table. I nearly threw the envelope on top of the large pile of unopened bills, but stopped myself.

Intrigued as to the contents, I tore at the tab, letting out a long breath when I saw it wasn’t from the bank…or a bill.

As I read the typed letter accompanying a church bulletin, guilt overwhelmed me for having ignored the only family I had left during the past several months.

Dearest Mackenzie,

I hope this letter finds you well. Many days have passed without your attendance at any of our services, including those which have been said to honor your mother. Even though years have gone since her passing, I understand the wound may never heal. But don’t carry the burden alone. Allow others to help shoulder it. We have set a celebration of your mother’s life at Monday evening mass this coming week. I do hope

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