One Day Soon (One Day Soon, #1)(118)

She had learned to be grateful for the temporary moments.

Because in the end, that’s all either of them had.





Fifteen Years Ago onward

Yoss

She looked miserable. Her hair was wet and hung down her back. She appeared incredibly young. And small.

And sad.

That was because of me.

I had never hated myself more.

The loudest parts of me screamed to go to her. I wanted to more than anything.

She was my survival.

My hope.

But I couldn’t be hers.

I knew from the moment I had met her that she deserved more than anything I could ever offer. She didn’t belong in the gritty life where I had found my home.

But I let myself be selfish with her.

I had allowed the delusions of a future together to color everything.

Until I was reminded, once again, of all I’d ever be.

I had promised her we’d leave. That I would take her away. She was looking to escape. I wanted nothing more than to be with her.

Where could we go? We had no money. Hardly anything to our name. What sort of life could we possibly have?

But when I woke up this morning, her body pressed against me, every inch of my skin smelling like her I truly wanted to try. I would go to hell to give her the world.

We needed money.

We wouldn’t get far without it. I wanted to start this new life with her. Bug’s death wouldn’t be in vain.

I left her with a promise to meet her later.

Underneath the Seventh Street Bridge.

I meant to keep it. Then.

I went to get the things I thought we’d need. I left her to tell the others our plans. I didn’t want to disappear without letting them know where we were going. Not after losing Bug.

I wasn’t gone long.

But long enough for Manny to find me.

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” he grinned and then gave me an offer. One last job. More money than I had ever seen before.

And I thought, For Imogen.

Even though I knew she would hate what I was going to do. I wanted to take care of her. I wanted to feed and clothe her.

I would change. After this.

But she saw me.

At my worst.

During my darkest hour.

She ran away from me and I had let her.

I don’t know why I didn’t chase her. I still wanted our life. I’d cling to it with bloody, broken fingers.

Afterwards as I walked towards the bridge, I was sore.

I could still smell the man on my clothes. I could taste him in my mouth.

I felt sick.

I had to stop several times to throw up. Not that I had much in my stomach anyway. The bile had burned my throat and I had a hard time breathing. I felt dirty in ways that water would never be able to clean.

I thought of Imogen waiting for me. Of what she would see when I showed up. The bruises. The blood. I felt so much shame.

I knew of no other way to make a life for her than to do things that she could never forgive. I didn’t know how to be any other way.

Bug’s brother’s words rang in my ears. “If you were really his friends you would have told him to go home.”

I had failed Bug. I thought I was taking care of him. But in the end none of that had mattered because the life we lived killed him. We would always be in danger. Living on the streets. Doing things to make money that put our souls and hearts at risk.

She was vulnerable. I tried to keep her safe, just as I had with Bug, but I knew it would never be enough.

The image of her face only hours before, watching me in that f*cking alley, on my goddamned knees would haunt me for the rest of my life.

She looked shocked. Betrayed.

Disgusted.

I disgusted her.

I could never reconcile myself with the man who let the love of his life see him at his lowest. At rock bottom with no hope of climbing back up.

Even if the reasons felt sound at the time. I could justify making the choices that I did so easily. And that is what terrified me.

Imi deserved better than that.

Than justification.

She needed to go home.

“Don’t live a life that will kill you one day. You deserve better than that.”

Bug’s brother was right. Imogen needed much more than I could give her.

She needed to go back and find a life off the streets. Away from me.

I saw her running away from me over and over again in my head. On an endless loop.

I didn’t follow her. Maybe I should have. But I didn’t.

She ran but I knew she’d still wait for me. No matter how horrified she had been, her love held her prisoner. It was up to me to set her free.

Even if it broke my heart to do it, I’d walk away from her.

So I watched her waiting underneath the bridge and I saw the moment when she realized I wasn’t coming. I felt her grief. It washed over me like the rain that fell from the sky.

Our pain was the same.

We shared everything.

Our happiness.

Our hope.

And our gut-wrenching despair.

I followed her as she slowly made her way to a small house with the unkempt yard on the other side of town. I watched her go inside and she didn’t come back out again.

She had gone home.

Just as I had wanted her to.

So why did I feel like screaming?