A year ago…

I carefully blot up the blood that’s dripping from my nose. Pain sears through me and tears fall, streaking little clean paths on my blood-stained skin. I cringe when the rag touches my broken skin. Wincing, I drag it down, cleaning up the dried blood. I watch scarlet-colored water wash down the drain as I rinse the rag under warm water, and bring it to my face again.

My body shudders as a sob escapes my lips, but there’s no sound to hear. I’ve perfected silently crying, hiding my tears from the world. Once I’m done wiping away the blood, I go about my normal routine of removing my makeup and brushing my teeth. I change into my PJs and look at the closed bathroom door.

My eyes fall shut. How the hell did it get so bad? I should have left.

Yesterday.

The day before that.

Last week.

A month ago.

I kept hoping, kept thinking it would be all right. That things would get better. That he meant it when he said he loved me. He was so good at the game I didn’t know I was being played. He took away my control little by little until there was nothing left and I was a prisoner in my own home. It happened so gradually I didn’t see it coming until it hit me smack in the face.

He hit me.

This was the first time.

He said it would be the only time.

But I don’t believe him. Things were fine between us until tonight, until I told him that periwinkle was blue and not pink. It was something so small, so unimportant. Something I thought was funny. But he had a bad day at work and snapped, like he always does. Though this time, instead of hitting me with his words, he used his fist.

And now I’m scared and alone, and it’s cold outside. Too cold to walk outside, but that doesn’t matter. I look out the small bathroom window. Snow falls down around the sleepy town. Softly. Gently. It’s so pristine. So white. So perfect.

So unlike me.

Tears fill my eyes and I sink down onto the closed lid on the toilet. I put my head in my hands, muffling another sob. I don’t know where my car keys are, and I won’t be told until morning when I need to leave for work.

I wipe my eyes and stand, going to the vanity. Hidden in the bottom of my makeup bag, wrapped in a small ball of tissue are two white pills. I take them out and place them on my palm. My throat is thick and it’s hard to breathe.

Pain tingles across my face. I close my fingers around the pills.

I know what I have to do.

* * *

Cole

Five years ago…

“I had your ring cleaned.” I reach into my pocket and pull out a small velvet bag. “That way it’s extra sparkly so you can show it off.” I turn the bag upside down and the diamond engagement ring falls into my palm. I sit on the bed next to Heather and slip it on her finger.

She holds her hand close to her face, admiring the large center stone, and smiles. “You’re so thoughtful.”

I shrug. “I just want you to be happy.” And I do. Making my fiancée happy makes me happy, as lame as that sounds. She links her fingers through mine and rests her head on my chest. I flick my eyes to the closed door and listen for a moment. The house is quiet.

“We have some time before my parents get back,” I say and wiggle my eyebrows. We’re in Orlando for Thanksgiving, staying with my parents for the first time since we got engaged. Several other family members are flying in, and we have plans to go to Disney World this weekend. I don’t normally get excited about shit like this, but fuck, I’m looking forward to it.

Mostly because Heather is here with me.

I kiss her and lay back on the bed, bringing Heather with me. Her arms go around my neck, but she hesitates.

“Isn’t your brother in the house?”

I let out a sigh. Nothing ruins the mood faster than bringing up that fucker. “Yeah, but he’s not going to come in or anything.”

“What if he hears us?”

I shrug again and smile. “It’ll make up for the million times I had to listen to him when we were younger.”

Heather looks completely put-off and I can’t really blame her. “Raincheck?” she asks.

“Of course,” I reply with a smile, ignoring the nagging in the back of my mind that this is something more than just not being in the mood. She’s been “not in the mood” a lot this past month, ever since we hashed out plans to come to Orlando and have Thanksgiving with my family.

“Sorry. I’m just tired. And my back still hurts from the flight.”

“You were tense that whole time.” I move around and put my hands on her shoulders. “Get a drink from the start when we fly back to New York,” I joke and start massaging her stiff muscles. Heather told me she was a nervous flyer, but I didn’t know the extent of it until we flew from New York to Florida.

“That feels good,” she says with a sigh. “Thank you.”

“Lay down, let me rub your back. And I won’t make a move, promise.”

Heather gives me a kiss and then lies down. Five minutes later, my phone rings. I pick it up off the dresser to silence the call but see it’s work.

“Everything okay?” Heather asks.

“Yeah.” I decline the call. “It’s the day before Thanksgiving…I don’t know why anyone from the office is even calling.”

“You can answer it.”

“I already hung up.”

Heather rolls over. “Call them back. I know it will bother you.”

It already is bothering me. There are several promotions set to run this weekend, and things need to line up perfectly. There better not be a fucking problem. “You don’t mind?”

“Not at all. I’m going to get something to eat and then take a shower and crash. You can shower with me if you’d like.”

“I think I can handle that.” I help Heather to her feet, kiss her, and then call the office back once she’s downstairs. The email server Black Ink Press uses is down, which has created a fucking problem. I’m on the phone for twenty minutes, getting more and more irritated as time goes by. I’m not in New York, and I can’t fix the server. I don’t know why I was even called.

Not wanting to be stressed out over the first holiday Heather and I are spending together, I put the phone down and take a minute before I go downstairs. Laughter echoes up the stairs, and I follow it to find Heather sitting in the kitchen with my brother.

“Hey, Cole,” Luke calls, turning and looking over his shoulder. He’s at the stove, and whatever he’s cooking smells amazing, though I won’t fucking tell him that. Heather is sitting at the island counter and turns her head down. Her pale cheeks redden, and she doesn’t make eye contact. Weird.

“Luke,” I say. “Hi.” My relationship with my brother has always been strained, but for Heather’s sake, I’m doing the best I fucking can.

“How’s work?” he asks. “What’s new and exciting in the world of publishing?”

I cringe, trying to keep from snapping. He’s asking a question, but it feels like a personal stab at my job. I might not be rushing into burning buildings like he does for a living, but I have a well-paying, respectable job.

“Same old, same old,” I answer. “What about you?”

“Same for me,” he says, turning back to the food. I sit next to Heather, slipping my arm around her waist. “And congrats on the engagement. This is the first time I’ve seen you both since you convinced Heather to join you on the Dark Side.”

Heather laughs like it’s the funniest thing in the world, making Luke raise his eyebrows. I immediately go on the defense.

Luke turns off the burner and grabs three plates. Part of me wants to say I’m not hungry and refuse to eat this just because he made it, but I’m fucking starving. And I’m trying not to be petty.

“I know you’re not supposed to swim after you eat.” Luke puts his plate in the sink, “but I was going to grab a beer and get in the pool. It’s fucking hot here, even if the natives disagree.”

“I’d love to go in,” Heather echoes right away, even though she declined my offer to get in the pool just an hour ago. Oh well, right? Heather looks good in a bikini either way.

The rest of the day passes quickly, and Thanksgiving comes and goes before we know it. Luke leaves Friday morning to get back to work, thank God, and Heather and I drive to Disney World.

It should be fun. It should be carefree. But Heather is quiet and distant. Something is wrong, but I’m too scared to ruin a good thing and ask. I wait it out, hoping she’ll snap back to her normal, happy self at any moment.

But she doesn’t, and that Sunday night when we get back to New York, I can’t help myself.

“What’s going on?” I ask her, setting my suitcase on the bed to start unpacking. “You’ve been acting off since Thanksgiving. Is everything okay?”

“Yeah,” she says with a smile and sits on the edge of the bed.

I go to her, wrapping my arms around her shoulders. “Heather…you can tell me anything. I love you. I want you to be happy.”

“I can’t do this. You’re so good to me, and I can’t lie to you.” She gets up and walks to the other side of the room. Tears fill her eyes, and my heart stops as I watch her take off her ring. She extends the diamond to me, but I can’t move. If I take it back, then it’s over.

My chest hurts, feeling like it’s caving in. “No, Heather, don’t say this. Whatever is wrong…we can fix. We can work through it.”

“We can’t,” she whispers and tears roll down her cheeks. I want to go to her, brush them away, and kiss her. But I still can’t move. “Because I’ve been trying. I’ve been trying this whole time and I know I just can’t.”

I blink, having to remind myself to breathe. “What can’t you do?”

“I can’t love you the same way you love me.” She says each word slowly, and each word chips away at my heart until it’s barely together. One wrong move and the whole thing will come crashing down, breaking into a million pieces that will be too small to ever put back together.

“No.” I shake my head, unable to think of anything else to say. “No.”

She sets the ring down on the dresser. “Yes. I wish I loved you the same way. Really, I do.”

“Heather…don’t do this. I’ve been busy with work and we haven’t spent as much time together lately, but that can change. I’ll cut back my hours.”

“You can’t do that.”

“I will. I’ll get another job. Heather—I love you. I love you enough to do anything.”

Her strawberry blonde hair falls over her face as she tips her head down. “And that’s exactly why I can’t stay. Because you would do anything, and you deserve to have someone who loves you just as much. You deserve someone who makes you happy.”

What is she talking about? She makes me happy. She loves me. I know it. “But you do.” I stride forward and she holds out her hand.

“No, Cole, please, just stop! I can’t love you the same because…because I’m in love with someone else.”

My cracked and fragile heart falls out of my chest. It hits the floor and I feel like I’m going to fall and cut myself on the pieces.

“I have been, and I tried to stop, but I just can’t. I want to love you, Cole, but I can’t stop thinking about him. I think we have a real chance, and I can’t go on like this with you.”

I stare at her for a minute, hands shaking. “Who is it?”

She raises her eyes, lashes wet with tears. “Luke.”