Ready for You (Ready #3)(38)

“I know, Clare, but this is shit I haven’t told anyone.”

“So, why not start with me?”

When something had been bottled up inside for so long, buried so deep, it took a long time to be able to dig it up again. I finished off my glass of tea and set it on the coffee table. I watched the ice start to melt. Clare didn’t say anything and didn’t pressure me. She just sat patiently and waited.

“Mia and I were supposed to get married.”

I heard my sister audibly gasp.

She set down her tea and leaned forward. “What? When?”

“The summer after graduation.”

“Why did I not know this?”

I looked down at my hands, remembering the night we’d gotten engaged. Lying on the blanket, I’d held her hand up in the air as we watched the tiny diamond twinkle and sparkle under the moonlight. She’d wanted to get me an engagement ring so that everyone knew I was hers. I’d told her that was unnecessary. She’d already marked every part of me.

“I never told Mom or Dad. I had planned to. We were going to tell them together, right after graduation.”

Understanding spread across Clare’s face as I looked up at her.

“But she left,” she said.

I nodded. “She left town and never came back. I never heard a single word from her. She left me a note saying she couldn’t go through with it, and that was it.”

I remembered driving home in the pouring rain as the Southern sky went aglow with lightning. I could hear the roaring and grumbling of thunder as I’d parked the car in the front of my parents’ house. My clothes had been soaked through from standing outside Mia’s house, staring at that letter. It had still been in my hand. I’d held on to it the entire way home, fearing I’d lose the last thing I had of her.

I’d carried out our plans alone, hoping she would come find me. I’d thought she must have panicked, been frightened and run off, but she’d return to me still carrying that little miracle, and we would be happy.

She’ll come back, I’d told myself. She’s just scared, and she’ll come back.

I’d told myself that every day until the baby’s due date. I had been finishing up my finals at the school we were both supposed to attend, and I’d felt numb.

But she hadn’t come back.

That day, I’d gotten the tattoo on my arm, and then the anger had started to settle in. It had stuck around ever since. I hated what she’d done to us and our future, yet I couldn’t hate her. I’d tried, but it was like rejecting a part of myself.

Even now, I was protecting her—omitting some of the truth from Clare to keep Mia safe. Part of me wanted to throw Mia under the bus and tell my sister exactly what Mia had done, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t hate her, and I couldn’t willingly hurt her either.

“Garrett, I’m so sorry. I wish you had told me sooner. I knew you were serious, but I guess I didn’t realize how much,” she confessed.

“You had a life of your own, Clare, with a husband and a new baby. I don’t fault you for living it. And you can’t feel guilty for not knowing what I didn’t tell you.”

She took my hand, and I pulled her into my arms. I’d always be her baby brother, but she was a midget in comparison. I dwarfed her tiny frame.

“Do you think that maybe there’s a chance that you two could—”

“No,” I answered, cutting off her question before she had a chance to finish it.

“Are you sure? I saw the way you two looked at each other that night in the bar.”

“We might still have chemistry, but it doesn’t change the past.”

“Forgiveness is a powerful thing, little brother,” she said.

“Maybe for some people.”

She sighed and gave me a squeeze, pulling back to gather our glasses. I heard the back door open, and the loud sounds of children rushed in. My two-year-old nephew, Ethan Oliver, took a flying leap into my arms and hugged me. He was named after my sister’s late husband, but to give him his own distinction, everyone called him Ollie as a nickname.

“Care-wet!” he said, smashing my face together and laughing at the results.

“My name is Garrett, Ollie! Why does he always call me Carrot?” I managed to ask Clare.

She was also laughing at my mangled face. “He’s two!” she said. “And besides, your name is difficult to say.”

“Is not,” I replied. I looked at him and smiled. “How do you say Logan?”

“Daddy!” he said cheerfully.

“Cheater.”

I was about to ask him to say Declan when the phone rang, and Maddie ran through the house, shouting she would answer it. Clare had let her answer it a few times when a telemarketer would call, and now, she thought she was the official answering service for the house.

“No, Princess, I’ll get it,” Logan shouted, grabbing the phone seconds before Maddie could.

He was in the kitchen, but I could hear him as he cheerfully greeted my mom.

My stomach hit the floor when I heard him say, “Oh God, is he okay?”

I picked up Ollie and followed an equally frightened Clare into the kitchen. I grabbed her hand, fearing the worst.

Logan had just set the phone down, and he looked up at Clare and me with tearful eyes. “It’s your dad.”