Chapter 12
Sophie
It’s Tank’s first game of the season and I feel like an absolute bitch. I’ve been up and walking around for at least a week now, it’s hard but it’s manageable. Going to his game would have been challenging but I would have had Dani there to help, so when he asked if I was feeling up to it. I did what I usually do.
I declined.
Not once in the time that I have been with him have I missed a game, except for maybe once in college when I was still denying that there was anything between us. I feel terrible but at the same time, how can I allow myself to go out and enjoy my life, enjoy my time when I’ve killed my child.
It’s not fair to him and it’s certainly not fair to Tank.
I should be miserable.
He should hate me.
Things between us have certainly been rough and quite frankly, I don’t know what he’s still doing here. Why hasn’t he left yet? He tells me every day that he loves me and I believe him. I just don’t understand how he could.
He deserves so much better than that. He deserves a woman who is going to treat him like the king that he is, the way I used to. I so desperately want to be that woman for him, to have the old me back but how could I? After my selfish actions took our son away and almost took my own life.
I see the absolute tortured look in his eyes every time he looks at me. He will start at my eyes with love which gives me hope that maybe he can forgive me but then his eyes travel down my body and that love turns to rage moments before it turns to heartache the second he’s reminded that I bare no child in my womb.
How could a man be happy in a relationship when every time he looks at his wife, he is reminded of what was taken from him?
God, I’m so desperately in love with him that this whole situation tears me up inside. Why couldn’t I have just left the Baxter case alone? The fucker has got away with it so it was all for nothing anyway.
I’ve ruined our lives for nothing.
My eyes travel down to the amazing rings that take over my ring finger and my heart begins to ache. The thought of leaving has circled my mind a few times over the past couple of weeks, purely for the fact that Tank deserves better.
The idea of leaving him absolutely kills me but I need to do it. I need to get away and I need to give him space to move forward.
He has this anger that has been taking over him and he needs to let it go but in order for him to do that, I need to be gone. The anger will stay as long as he is looking at me each and every day. I’m the constant reminder of what he’s lost.
It’s selfish of me to stay yet it’s selfish for me to go.
No matter what I do, I can’t win. But then again. I don’t deserve to win.
With a sigh, I call out for Gretchen and let her know that I'm going to bed for the night, so she can leave early. She gives me a grateful smile before making sure I have everything I could need at my bedside.
The moment I hear the door close behind her, I push back the blankets and find my suitcase. I finish packing a few things, grab my keys and make my way to the garage door before thinking better of it. I backtrack to the kitchen and grab a piece of paper.
With tears in my eyes, I write the only thing I can think of that he might possibly understand.
‘I’m sorry, I love you.’
A tear drops down onto the paper as I slip my rings from my finger and place them down on the note.
I suddenly feel very empty but I know it’s the right thing to do. I may never move on and heal from this but at least Tank now has a chance.
I get in my car with tears streaming down my face while I struggle to catch a full breath. Sobs rip through me as I drive to the airport. It’s only a twenty-minute drive but it feels as though it takes a lifetime. I pull into the long-term parking lot and hand my keys over to the valet guy. He helps me grab my suitcase and gives me a sympathetic smile as he notices my red-rimmed eyes.
I thank him and head into the airport. Luckily, I only have to wait an hour before the next scheduled flight leaves for Denver.
I sit at the gate, waiting for my flight and notice the only entertainment the airport has on offer is Tanks game. Excellent. Just what I need. Another reminder of the great man I just left behind.
With nothing left to do and my pure curiosity, I watch the game. As the game goes on, with the Storm winning, as usual, the commentators announce Tank as the new Captain for the season and start listing off his stats and achievements which I have to admit are extremely impressive and surpass those of other players by miles.
The feeling that I’m missing out on a massive day in Tank’s career doesn’t sit well with me and I bet he’s probably feeling it too. He has always loved when I go to his games, even has his little traditions of blowing me a kiss at the start of every game which means today, being his first day as Captain, those traditions don’t get to be put in place.
My flight is called and I make my way onto the plane.
A few hours later, the plane touches down and I wipe away a stray tear. I make my way off the plane, find my luggage and hire a car.
Not long after, I find myself walking up the old familiar driveway dragging my suitcase behind me. I knock on the door and wait patiently for someone to answer it.
“Who the hell would be knocking on the door at this hour?” My dad’s stern voice comes from within.
“Oh, I don’t know, honey. Can you answer it? I’m in my nightgown,” replies my mother.
“What?” my father grunts. “Over my dead body. I just sat down.”
I grin to myself, hearing that familiar banter once again. I hear my mother’s groan as her feet carry her across the old wooden floorboards. “I swear, Robert. One of these days you’re going to find yourself without a woman and you wouldn’t know how to scratch your own ass,” she murmurs as the locks on the door slide out of place.
The door is pulled open and there before me is my mother. Her lips fall into an ‘O’ before she manages to shake off the shock. “Sophie?” she asks. “My god, what are you doing here?” she says as she flies towards me and pulls me into a deep hug.
“Sophie?” I hear my father question as I try my hardest to wriggle out of mum’s tight grip. I mean, I was beaten within an inch of my life not that long ago, some things are still a little fragile.
“My ribs, mum,” I remind her.
“Oh,” she gasps as she instantly drops her arms. “What the hell are you doing here?” she asks, repeating her question.
I’m just about to answer when my father barges through and collects me in his big arms. “Sophie, girl,” he says with a smile in his voice.
“Be careful, Robert,” my mother scolds. “She’s injured.”
“What?” my father questions as he also drops his arms then steps back to look over me. “Still? That was weeks ago. She looks fine to me.”
I roll my eyes at my parent's banter once again. “Am I going to stand in the doorway all night or can I come in?”
“Oh, of course, dear,” my mother says as she ushers me in.
I grab my suitcase and wheel it through the door so dad can close it behind me. “Where’s that hunky man of yours?” My mother asks as smitten as ever over the said hunky man.
I let out a heavy sigh as I look at her and she sees it in my eyes. Just like that, I don’t have to explain myself, she understand, she always has. “Oh, honey. It will be ok,” she murmurs in that motherly voice that makes me burst into tears.
Mum pulls me into her arms once again as I hear my father grunting behind us. “What the fuck did I just miss?” he asks, making the smallest smile come over my face.
“Oh, Robert. Watch your language,” mum scolds as what sounds like a heard of elephants rushing down the stairs is heard throughout the whole room.
“What’s all the commotion down here?” my little brother, Zac asks as he takes me in.
With a smile, I walk straight up to the loser and wrap my arms around him. “It’s nice to see you too, twat.”
“Ugh,” he groans as he wraps me up in a tight hug. “Get off me.”
I have to roll my eyes at the kid. We’ve always had a love-hate relationship which usually consists of me messing with him. It’s just too fun to pass up on.
“Now, be a darl and take my bag up to my room,” I tell him.
“In your dreams,” he scoffs. “I’m not one of your maids in your big fancy, gated-community, McMansion. Do it yourself.”
I narrow my eyes at him before turning on my father with the puppy dog eyes. “Please, Daddy. I’m so tired.”
He lets out a huff but does it anyway. “I don’t know how you do it, Sophie,” mum says in awe as she takes me by the arm and pulls me towards the kitchen. “Are you hungry? How did you get here? Why didn’t you call? Your father would have picked you up from the airport, you know.”
On and on it goes.
Half an hour later, mum has finally given up on the questions but only as I promised to answer it all tomorrow. Once she is finished fussing about my room, she sends me off to bed with one of her famous hot chocolates and I’m finally left alone.
I go through my luggage and decide it’s probably best for a quick shower. After quickly washing off the day. I pull on my pyjamas and get comfortable in bed. A soft knock is heard at the door before my brother pokes his head in. “What do you want, grommet?” I question.
He leans against the door frame as he studies me. “What are you really doing here, Soph?” he asks.
I look at my brother and realise that he really has grown up, though, he should have, he’s nearly twenty-four. “It’s my fault,” I say, not needing to clarify what I’m talking about.
“That’s the biggest load of bullshit I’ve ever heard,” he says, looking me firmly in the eyes.
“I pursued the case. If I hadn’t my son would still be here,” I argue.
“No, you’re looking at it wrong. You’re blaming yourself for something that was out of your control. Christian Baxter is the one who order those men to beat you. He is 100% at fault. Not you. He stole your baby, you didn’t lose it.”
I get up out of bed and cross the room. “Thanks, kid. But you don’t understand,” I say as I wrap my arms around him.
“You’re being an idiot,” he tells me. I can practically hear him rolling his eyes as he hugs me back. “Goodnight,” he says before letting me go and backing out of the room.
“Night, moron,” I say to his retreating figure before making my way back to my bed.
With a sigh, I take a few pain pills and squish my head into my pillow. A lone tear falls from my eye as I realise just how big and empty being in a bed alone feels. I stretch my hand out over to the other side, the place where up until tonight would have been occupied by my husband.
I allow myself to drift into a dreamless sleep, wishing things could be different. Wishing I hadn’t made such piss poor decisions and wishing my son was still safely cradled in my arms beneath my skin.