Six

The last few weeks away from Arabella had been a kind of torture I hadn’t expected, and quite frankly, I wasn’t built for it.

I told myself I needed space to think, to breathe, to deal with the guilt I couldn’t shake off. But no amount of time made it easier to accept that I’d failed her.

I should’ve seen it. I should’ve protected her. Instead, I’d been blind to her pain. I was right there with her, held her hands, looked into her eyes, and I still couldn’t see what she was going through.

And once I knew the truth, I still ran. Not because I didn’t love...