As soon as I get back to Kat and Daniel’s after my road trip with Meredith, I rush into the office and use their computer to pull up Google. I immediately find a bunch of articles about the accident in the local paper. Seeing the devastation of it in print, reading the truth of the words Meredith spoke to me hurts like a son of a bitch and I have to rub my palm across my chest to ease the ache in my heart.

“Wow, you’re an asshole.”

Rylan chuckles and I take a few calming breaths instead of turning around in the desk chair and punching him in the face.

“First you manhandle her, then you insult her. She’s definitely going to come running back to you know.”

I’m now regretting the fact that I shared everything that happened tonight with him as soon as I walked in the door. I shake my head in frustration, sitting down on the edge of the desk and staring at the screen in front of me like the answers will somehow magically appear.

“Fuck off, I didn’t know about the accident. Jesus Christ, you should have seen the car. She’ll never forgive me for all that shit I said to her,” I tell him, clicking away from the article and slamming the laptop lid closed.

“You’ve got a lot of sucking up to do, man. I know your endgame is to nail Georgia Eubanks’s ass to the wall, but is it really worth it to put Shelby through even more bullshit? You said it yourself—she kept you alive when we were in that shithole. For five years you kept fighting the good fight because of her. Sitting here on your ass, feeling sorry for yourself, isn’t going to prove that to her. Being a dick because you hate her mother isn’t going to make her see what she means to you.”

Resting my elbows on the edge of the table, I put my head in my hands and close my eyes, trying not to think about the look on her face when I accused her of giving up.

“She’s not even going to let me get close to her after what I said and did, and I don’t blame her,” I mutter, rubbing my hands down my face and glancing up at Rylan as he pushes off the desk and stands next to me with his arms crossed over his chest.

“Yeah, she’s gonna be pissed at you and you need to let her. You need to take it like a fucking man, let her rip you apart, let it hurt like a bitch, and then show her you aren’t walking away. Marines don’t give up, so stop being a pussy and go to her,” he tells me with a pointed glare.

“Since when did you become a fucking love guru?”

“Since I had to listen to you mutter in your sleep for five years about peaches,” he says with a roll of his eyes, always finding a way to make light of our situation when it was anything but that.

“Now, get the fuck out of here and give me the laptop. I’ve got porn to catch up on.”

Before I know what’s happening, I’ve snagged Kat’s keys from the table by the front door, left Rylan to his porn, and the next thing I know, I’m pulling up behind the stables and walking mindlessly to the hidden room in the back of the building in the middle of the night.

My hands shake as I turn the handle of the door, shocked that it’s unlocked. I don’t even know why I’m here, torturing myself like this. I push open the door, remembering all the times I’ve done this before. A few times picking the lock to get inside, and then one day, suddenly finding it open, knowing she wanted me in there. Knowing she liked seeing me in the back of the room, quietly watching her dance. Walking down the narrow hallway, I stick my hands into the front pockets of my tux pants, having left the jacket and tie back in the spare bedroom at Kat’s. My feet move faster when I hear a muffled noise in the room at the end of the hallway, stopping abruptly when I get to the doorway and see the cause of the sound.

My eyes quickly take in the state of the studio, dusty and unkempt after what I now know have been years of disuse, and it hurts something deep inside me knowing why it’s in this state. My heart thunders in my chest when I see her standing in the middle of the room. Gone is the woman I saw earlier tonight, with her head held high and an elitist air about her. She’s still wearing the fancy, body-hugging green gown, the same color as her eyes, and she still looks just as stunning in it as she did earlier in the night. But in the cloudy reflection of the mirrors in front of her, I see her clutching one side of her long skirt up by her hip, her head bent forward and her shoulders shaking with sobs. She presses a hand against her stomach like she’s trying to hold herself together and it completely wrecks me. I shouldn’t be standing here, watching her in this private moment, but I can’t turn away. I deserve to see her so broken and devastated. I deserve to feel the pain of her tears and her hurt after the things I said to her, the things I accused her of.

My feet start moving me through the doorway and across the floor in her direction, my eyes never leaving her reflection in the mirror, bouncing back and forth between her beautifully scarred leg and the misery on her face as she continues to whimper and sob, so painfully that it breaks me in half. My footsteps falter as her body rocks forward and back with the force of her crying and I can’t stop my own eyes from welling up with tears, wishing I could take away all of her pain.

I move faster, acting without thinking as I silently wrap my arms around her and pull her back to me, wanting to take every ounce of her hurt and pull it inside me so she no longer has to feel it.

Closing my eyes, I tighten my hold on her, feeling her body shake in my arms, and I just want to go back. I want to go back to the night I wrote that fucking letter, back to the night I walked away from her and make it so it never happened. Make it so she never has to feel even an ounce of the pain that I can feel so acutely as it travels from her body to mine. Right when I open my mouth to apologize, say something—anything—to make this better for her, she yanks herself out of my arms so roughly I stumble forward as she whirls around to face me.

Seeing the pain on her face through a distorted image in the mirror is nothing compared to seeing the stark agony face-to-face as she glares at me with tears streaming down her cheeks.

“I HAVE NOTHING!” she shouts brokenly, dropping the hold she has on her skirt to press her palms against my chest and shove me away.

“It was all I had and now I have NOTHING!” she screams through her tears, shoving against my chest again.

“It hurts! It hurts so fucking much I can’t breathe!”

“I know, baby,” I choke out, trying not to cry right along with her as she continues coming at me, pushing and shoving me backward.

“I can’t stand being in this room, remembering what I used to be, but I can’t stop coming here. I can’t stop staring in that fucking mirror, wanting it all back so much I can’t breathe…I can’t breathe,” she sobs, her hands dropping from my chest and wrapping around her waist as she bends forward.

Every bit of anger that I felt toward her disappears in an instant. I can’t stand seeing her like this. My heart can’t handle knowing she’s in so much pain and all I can think about is taking it away.

I move in a flash and wrap my arms around her once again. I move one hand up to cup the back of her head, sliding my fingers through her hair and pushing her face against my chest and kissing the top of her head, smelling the scent of peaches that clings to her hair, the smell that got me through so many days and nights and made me want to keep fighting.

“I can’t breathe…” she whispers against me brokenly. “I can’t breathe.”

My body starts swaying the two of us gently back and forth as I hold her and let her cry. I wish I had the words to tell her how sorry I am, but I can’t find them as I tighten my arm around her waist, knowing nothing I say will take away her pain. Having her in my arms again, so soft and warm and real, feels like a dream that I never want to wake up from. I’m the biggest asshole in the world for loving how she feels against me while she’s dying inside.

“I can’t even hear the music anymore,” she says softly in between gasping breaths when her sobs start to wane. “I used to hear it everywhere I went. I used to hear melodies that weren’t even playing, choreograph entire routines without even knowing it was happening, and now, I can’t even hear the music and it hurts so much.”

I run my fingers through her long, soft hair and continue rocking us back and forth. She’s rambling, speaking so quickly and so unlike the fierce woman with an attitude I’ve encountered the last two times I’ve seen her that I’m afraid to say anything, afraid to stop her from letting this all out. Finding out what happened to her and realizing how deeply she’s kept all of this inside, I know she needs to let it out before it destroys her more than it already has.

“I just want to be able to look at myself in the mirror and not hate everything I see. I hate it. I hate it so much. And I hate myself for feeling like this when you’re here, so strong and perfect after what you went through.”

I want to laugh at her words. I’m not strong and I’m not perfect. I’m a fucking mess. Moving my hand from the back of her head, I slide it to her cheek and tip her face up so I can look into her eyes. Her skin is so soft under my palm and the flush on her cheeks from crying is so warm against my hand that I have to swallow a few times to find my voice instead of just standing here, holding her face in my hand and forgetting about everything I need to say to her.

“Don’t you dare,” I whisper. “I’m not strong and I’m not perfect. I’m barely holding on and I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry for what I said to you. I know you, I know you’d never give up, and I never should have said those things to you. You are stronger than you even know.”

I stare deeply into her eyes and I pray to God she can here the truth and conviction in my words. I need her to be okay. I would give anything right now to take away her pain.

She shakes her head at me, and fresh tears fall from her eyes and down her cheeks.

“You came back here for the girl who could dance. The girl who fought to make her dreams come true, and I’m not that person anymore. I don’t even know who she is.”

I shake my own head in disagreement to her words.

“I was wrong. All of it was wrong, everything I said, and everything I’ve thought since I saw you again was bullshit and I should have known it the first time I touched you again out there in those stables. I came back here for you, Shelby. YOU. Not the dancer. I didn’t fall in love with your dancing, I fell in love with you. The person you are. I don’t care if you’re not dancing, I don’t care about anything but you.”

She turns her face and presses it against my hand as I pull her body closer, hold her tighter against me.

“I’m not her anymore. I’m not Legs anymore and I never will be,” she murmurs with her eyes closed, her breath whispering against my palm.

“I don’t need Legs. I just need you,” I tell her quietly. “I never should have left you the way I did, but I’m here now, and I’m going to make everything right again.”

I feel her stiffen in my arms, and before I can even blink, she’s shoving away from me, leaving my arms empty and cold without the feel of her body in them. I watch her swipe angrily at the tears on her face and take a few steps away from me, her eyes narrowing in irritation. The moment of her letting down the wall she’s built up around her and letting me in has passed and it fucking hurts. I can see it written all over her face that she regrets having even one minute of weakness with me. I feel raw and vulnerable and pissed off that she’s dismissing me so easily.

“Don’t shut down on me, Shelby, please,” I beg softly.

“That shouldn’t have happened,” she says with a shake of her head, gesturing between the two of us. “It’s this damn room. It makes me emotional and I…I’m with someone else, Eli. You need to understand that and just stop. I don’t need you to comfort me and I don’t need you to think you need to make it all better. You can’t. Just let it go and move on.”

She moves to walk around me and I quickly reach out and grab her arm to stop her from leaving.

“Bullshit,” I argue, watching her eyes widen with even more anger. “You can’t just give me something like that, let down your walls and let me see you, and then pull away like it’s no big deal. You can’t kiss me back like you did in that fucking office tonight and then tell me you don’t need me and you don’t still want me. I can’t leave you alone and I can’t move on because you’re everything to me. You always have been and you always will be, and I know damn well you feel the same, even if you want to stand here, look me right in the fucking eyes, and lie to me.”

She pulls harder against my hold on her arm, but I refuse to let go. I hate that she’s hurting and I hate that I’m the cause for all of it, but I’m not about to let her leave and pretend like what she gave me when I had her in my arms just moments ago wasn’t real.

“I don’t give a shit if you’re with someone else, he’ll never love you the way I do. He’ll never fight for you the way I do and he’ll never fucking see you the way I do!” I shout, knowing the words I say will piss her off and not caring one fucking bit about it. I want her fired up. I want her to get angry and let go and prove my point that she hasn’t moved on any more than I have.

“I’m standing here in this room, alive and breathing and fighting because of YOU! Because in between the torture and the beatings and the fucking hell, year after year, I couldn’t get you out of my head. I didn’t WANT to get you out of my head. Your smell, your smile, your laugh, your taste, your touch…it’s the only fucking thing that made me want to wake up every damn day and go through that shit again and again. Thinking about you and fighting to get back to you is the only way I could fucking survive, so don’t stand here and tell me to move on! Don’t fall apart in my arms and then lie to me!”

“YOU LEFT!” she screams at the top of her lungs, finally giving me what I want and I quickly realize Rylan was right. She’s going to rip me apart and it will hurt like a bitch.

“You left me here because you were in love with someone else and then you died! I mourned you and I can’t do this again! I’m sorry! I’m sorry for what happened to you and I’m sorry you came back here for nothing but you need to listen to me and just GO! Just leave and move on with your life and forget about me!”

Her body shakes with anger and I know I shouldn’t push this any further, but I can’t stop. She needs to understand and she needs to stop pretending.

“I lied, Shelby! Jesus, you have to know it was all a lie. You have to know after those months we spent together that there never was and never will be anyone else for me. You know I never would have left you if I felt like I had another choice,” I tell her, not wanting to get into everything about her mother and upsetting her more, but it’s the only way I know how to apologize. It’s the only way I know how to make her see that I felt like I didn’t have any other option and get through to her.

“You had a choice!” she shouts, tossing her hands in the air in frustration. “ME! I was your fucking choice and you threw it away with that goddamn note! You couldn’t even be honest with me. Is that supposed to make me feel better? After everything I gave you, everything I shared with you…you couldn’t even be honest! You always had a choice and you chose wrong! I would have done ANYTHING for you, Eli. So no, you didn’t know me at all. You left without a fight because you were in love with someone else and now you’re back, wanting everything to be the way it was and I can’t do that. I can’t go back there. I can’t be here with you, I can’t erase everything that’s happened since you left. Just GO. Leave me alone to let me live my life!”

I stalk closer to her and she moves backward again, trying to put distance between us, but I’m not going to let her. I did what Rylan said, I let her have her moment to be hurt and give me hell for what I did to her, but I’ll be damned if I let her walk away thinking any of this shit is true. We both keep moving until her back hits the mirrors behind her and she has nowhere else to go. Bringing my hands up, I smack them against the glass on either side of her, caging her in.

“I will never forgive myself for leaving you, Shelby. EVER. I’ll never forgive myself for the part I played in what happened to you,” I tell her, leaning closer and softening my voice even though I want to scream right back at her and make her fucking hear what I’m saying and believe it.

“I lied to you in that note, I made a mistake, and I spent six fucking years wishing I could go back and do it differently. Wishing I could touch you and hold you and tell you I love you, take back every stupid decision I made that took me away from you, but I can’t do that. Don’t stand here and tell me I didn’t fight for you, when we both know I fucking did. It might have taken me a few weeks, but I fought for you, dammit! I wrote you, every day for three months when I got to Afghanistan and woke the fuck up. Every goddamn day I wrote to you and I apologized and I begged for you to forgive me and you didn’t. I take full responsibility for the shitty way I left things and how much I hurt you, but don’t you dare stand here and lie to my face, telling me I didn’t fight,” I argue. “I wrote to you, every day, and I fought for you, every fucking day, for MONTHS!”

She moves quickly, bending down and sliding out from under my arms, shaking her head at me as she goes.

“I don’t believe this,” she mutters. “Are you seriously Notebook-ing me right now? You are UNBELIEVABLE!”

Now it’s my turn to shake my head, having no idea what the fuck she’s talking about.

“You have a lot of nerve. And you’re calling ME a liar? You didn’t write me any letters. You’re just saying that because you came back here and can’t get what you want, saying whatever you can to make me give in.”

“Look, I don’t know what notebook you’re talking about and I don’t give a shit. I’m telling you I tried to fight for you and you didn’t respond. But it doesn’t fucking matter. I didn’t give up then and I’m not about to give up now. I don’t care about the letters, I don’t care if you threw them away or burned them or you want to pretend like you never got them. I’m here and I’m not going anywhere, so get that through your head!”

She turns away from me, stalks across the room, and I let her go, knowing she’s done listening to me and realizing I need to stop while I’m sort of ahead before this escalates even more and I completely lose my footing. I have no problem letting her leave right now and be pissed at me. Having her pissed and angry is much better than having her indifferent and pretending like she doesn’t care. If she didn’t care, everything I’m feeling would be a waste of time and energy. Every regret and every broken piece of my heart wouldn’t mean a damn thing.

“Go away! Take your lies and your fucking Ryan Gosling references and shove them up your ass!” she finishes, rounding the doorway and moving out of sight.

I chuckle to myself when I hear the door slam shut at the end of the hallway outside the studio. I have no idea who Ryan Gosling is and what he has to do with what just happened here, but I don’t care. She just proved to me that she hasn’t moved on, no matter how hard she tried to convince me otherwise, and there’s no way I’m giving up now. At least my therapist will be happy I’ve found a hobby.