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He kept his back to her as he measured some broth, poured it into the searing pan, and scraped the leftover bits off the bottom. He set it aside to thicken.
“I shouldn’t have pushed you away. I couldn’t...” She still didn’t have the words as her mind played the moment Gen collapsed over and over. “I’m sorry.”
“You missed Dylan’s concert, my last game...” The accusation in his voice cut through Abby’s defenses like a scalpel.
She winced. “I know.”
He stirred the broth, then turned to face her. “I would have come over. I would have helped bring Gen home, brought Dylan to visit...”
“I know...”
“Brought pizza and a crappy movie.”
She nodded. “I... I’m sorry.”
It wasn’t enough. She knew that, too. It didn’t matter how much she meant it; she’d hurt him – hurt Dylan – even if she could have excused it, she wouldn’t. They deserved better from her.
In one long stride, Scott crossed to her, hands wrapping around her upper arms. “Why, Abby? Why won’t you let me help you?”
She didn’t have an answer. Not for him, not for Cara, who had asked the same question more than once, not for her former in-laws, who’d been cut out of her life after Will’s death, too stark a reminder of all she’d lost, not for her own parents, who’d tried for so long before giving up.
“I don’t know.”
He raked a hand through his hair. “I thought I understood what I was getting into, dating you. I thought...” He shook his head. “You know when we went to that Japanese art exhibit over the summer? They had those broken bowls, but instead of throwing them away or trying to cover up the cracks, they’d filled them in with gold, instead. They were beautiful. The cracks hadn’t ruined them, they’d made them better.”
Abby pressed her hand to her mouth, refusing to let the sob escape.
No more tears.
“I thought,That’s Abby. Those bowls, they were you. Shattered by use, by life, but instead of being thrown away, they’d been knit back together. Instead of trying to pretend the cracks never happened, they became art, a testament that broken didn’t have to mean useless. Purposeless.”
“And now?” She didn’t know where the strength to ask came from. She already knew the answer.
“Beautiful, but untouchable. Encased in glass.”
Her shoulders jerked, his words a physical blow. What would it take to shatter the glass she’d surrounded herself with? Why couldn’t it be enough that she’d learned to love again? Why did loving Scott mean she had to surrender every part of her defenses, even in the midst of being shattered again?
Liam is dead, she wanted to scream.Gen is sick.
How could she let him in? How could she keep her heart from flying into a million pieces if she didn’t clutch every one of them? She wasn’t an empty bowl, to be put up on a shelf until someone had time to fix it; she was a living person, and if she didn’t hold it together, everything within her would leak away. Only an empty shell would be left.
Scott spoke again, fists clenching and unclenching at his side. “Dylan’s final custody hearing is a week from Wednesday. I have to walk into a courtroom and convince a judge I’m the best parent for him; otherwise, Lindsay will take him. I’ll lose my son, Abby. How can I defend my relationship with you and not be able to trust you’ll be there for us? How can I say you’re good for Dylan and then have to explain how upset he was when you missed his concert?”
She flinched again. “I’m not perfect...”
“I’m not asking for perfect. But right now? I need better thanthis. I need better than you disappearing on us. I need you to decide: are you in? Are you going to let me in, letusin? Or are you doing life on your own. Because if you are...” He opened his hands in a gesture of surrender. “I can’t lose my son.”
She lifted her chin, met his eyes, and she blinked hard. She could make it up to them, but it would hurt.
“I know. I know you can’t. I know...wecan’t.”
He stilled. “We?”
She nodded. This much she could do for him. “I won’t be the reason you lose Dylan, Scott. I can’t be. So, if you need to walk away for a while, fight this battle while I fight Gen’s, I get it. If I can’t be what you both need, then maybe it’s for the best.” She paused. “But not forever. This stupid custody thing will end, and you’ll get Dylan back. And Gen... When Gen’s better...” She still couldn’t say the words. Her hope perched too fragilely in her soul to speak it aloud. “Then maybe we can try again.”
He stepped back. “So that’s it, then.”
“Its... It’s for the best,” she said, as the pieces of her heart ripped apart in a whole new way.