Thick Love (Thin Love, #2)(85)

I sighed, helpless to do anything else but remember his haunted expression. But Aly, she needed to hear it all.

“Then he told me that I was weak, that I was nothing.” I curled my fists tight, closing my eyes so I could see the expression on his face again, remember it for what it was: my first punishment. “He said, ‘The only thing you’ll ever bring anyone in this life is heartache.’” Aly didn’t follow me when I left the bed. She let me pace; I stopped in front of the window but didn’t look beyond it. “It was a curse,” I said, leaning my palm against the glass. “And I accepted it as my fair due. In fact, I cradled it. I let it sink its teeth into me and allowed it to be my enduring punishment for what I had done. It fed me. It still feeds me.”

“It’s a crutch, Ransom.”

I glanced at her, shrugging. “Maybe.”

I didn’t tell Aly about the days, weeks afterward. I didn’t tell her about sneaking into the salvage yard to see the boat, how I found Emily’s small cross charm and chain under the wet carpet. I didn’t say anything about my parents asking that I talk to them, to anyone, so that I didn’t sink into the abyss of what I’d done. So that it wouldn’t keep me stuck out on that lake, selfish and reckless, hopeless and weak, just like I’d been the day Emily died.

I didn’t tell Aly anything else about how I gotten to where I was now, still lost, but wanting to find my way back, wanting more than anything to take back saying the wrong name when I was with her. I should have. But I didn’t.

Aly’s feet were silent as she moved away from the bed, but I caught the hint of her shampoo when she stood behind me. “You let this keep you, it always will.”

“You don’t get it, Aly.” I turned and faced her, curling my arms across my chest, not reaching for her like I wanted. “What I did, who I am now, I deserve it. You don’t see…”

“Then show me.” She pulled my arms apart, gripping my face between her hands. “Tell me how I can…”

“You want to help me,” I told her, moving my head to get her to release me. “Everyone does. There is no helping me. She’s in my head. I hear her all the time. She tells me how to serve my penance.”

“Ransom…”

“I serve,” I said, cutting Aly off. “Until you, I only serve. I serviced so many girls I couldn’t get hard anymore. My body failed me and I let it. I was glad for it. I didn’t want to fix it because I knew how much I deserved it. What I did to Emily, to her family, it’s the least I could do, to never take pleasure from anything. I killed my first love. It’s the only way I could also kill myself.”

“You have to forgive yourself. You have to let her go.”

“No, I don’t get that.” When Aly stepped closer, I moved away from the window, not wanting her comfort just then. “I deserve to be punished.”

“You think I do?”

“What?” I jerked my gaze to her.

She stood in front of me, her chin lifted like she was laying down a challenge. “I killed my mother.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I did.” She worked that small shrug like she meant to be flippant, but her eyes were tight and I wondered how she managed to look guilty and proud all at the same time. “She died having me.”

I lowered my shoulders, managing a smile I knew was likely more sympathetic than she wanted to see. I’d caught on quickly that Aly didn’t like pity. “It’s not the same, sweetheart. Not remotely. You were a baby. You had no control over what happened.”

“You were a kid, too.” When Aly reached me, it was to hold me again and I let her, too selfish still, too needy to keep her from me. She leaned into me as I lowered onto the sofa, helping her move over onto my lap. “You were angry, you were scared but did you climb in that boat intending to hurt her?”

“Of course not.”

“People get into cars every day,” Aly said, smoothing her fingers over my brow. “They act stupid with their friends, they text and drive and I bet not one of them sets out to get into accidents. Sometimes they do. Sometimes those accidents end lives.” She reminded me a little bit of myself when I was younger and had brushed aside every negative thought, ever doubtful word I came across. My mom used to call me Pollyanna, always eager and ready to see the good in every situation. God, I wanted to be that innocent again.

“It’s tragic, yes, incredibly, horrifyingly tragic. They all are, every single one of them, those things that take our loved ones away from us because of chance, circumstance, bad decisions. The point is, you were a kid too. You didn’t know that messing around like that would cause all of this damage, otherwise, you would have stopped. Sweetie, you can’t keep paying for it. You’ve punished yourself enough.”

Her advice, well-meaning as it was, was flawed wisdom, and had me shaking my head. I wished it was that simple. And I wished that Aly wasn’t looking so hard to rescue me. I didn’t need a savior. Maybe I just needed her. “I’m not the bad boy who needs saving, Aly.”

“Non, cheri,” she said, scooting closer as though I hadn’t hurt her twenty minutes before, as though she’d already forgotten how badly I’d f*cked up. “You’re a good man who needs to forgive himself.”