Page 161
Story: Three Reckless Words
“You know, when you first showed up again, I didn’t trust you one bit.”
Fuck. Not exactly the right words, but they’re true.
I know I’m doing this wrong, but there’s so much in the air.
Too much baggage.
Too much history.
Too muchColt.
“Uh, yeah. I figured,” she says evenly. “You made that clear. I get it, Arch. I do.”
“The thing is, that attitude isn’t helpful. Not for Colton and not for us.” I sweep a hand through my hair. “The mistrust—that’s what I’m talking about. The way it feels like we’re trying to make him choose.”
Rina looks at me, her thin lips pursed like she’s trying to read me.
Once upon a time, I guess she could—when we were together, she knew me better than anyone. At least, the version of me before I spent a decade hunkered down, raising a son and building a company instead of chasing wild dreams like she did.
“I was thinking that, too,” she says quietly. “I don’t want to fight anymore. I’m so over that. And you’re right, I don’t want to make him choose.”
“We can be better, Ri.”
Her brows crease as she frowns at the old nickname. “Do you know why I came back?”
I guess I’m about to learn.
I sit back, letting her talk.
“When I left Washington and went off to California and Arizona, I did a lot of reflecting. What I wanted. Who I’d become.”
I nod, taking another sip.
I think we’ve both done plenty of reflecting over the years—and if hers was anything like mine, it couldn’t have all been positive.
“I worked in Sedona the last few years,” she continues, “and the energy in the earth, the way people would come there to heal, it really made me think about my choices, my priorities. I had a son, but I hadn’t even seen him in a year.” Her eyes fill with tears. “My son, Archer. It’s like I woke up.”
Damn.
It’s like watching what happens after a light switch flips, changing her from the confident person I knew to someone so vulnerable.
But there’s nothing I can say.
She brought this on herself.
She’s not Winnie—if she was sitting in front of me, looking so pitiful, I’d have ripped apart the world to protect her.
With Rina, her pain is self-inflicted. It feels like watching some addict stranger on the street, a slave to bad habits, still begging for money.
You feel pity, sure, but it isn’t personal.
Is that what love is? This desperate need to shield Winnie from the crap in her life versus this melancholy heartache at Rina waking up to her own self-destruction?
She’s right, of course—she had a son she never fucking bothered to see.
I don’t tell her the last visit was wellovera year ago.
There’s nothing I can say to make that better, to take back time.
Fuck. Not exactly the right words, but they’re true.
I know I’m doing this wrong, but there’s so much in the air.
Too much baggage.
Too much history.
Too muchColt.
“Uh, yeah. I figured,” she says evenly. “You made that clear. I get it, Arch. I do.”
“The thing is, that attitude isn’t helpful. Not for Colton and not for us.” I sweep a hand through my hair. “The mistrust—that’s what I’m talking about. The way it feels like we’re trying to make him choose.”
Rina looks at me, her thin lips pursed like she’s trying to read me.
Once upon a time, I guess she could—when we were together, she knew me better than anyone. At least, the version of me before I spent a decade hunkered down, raising a son and building a company instead of chasing wild dreams like she did.
“I was thinking that, too,” she says quietly. “I don’t want to fight anymore. I’m so over that. And you’re right, I don’t want to make him choose.”
“We can be better, Ri.”
Her brows crease as she frowns at the old nickname. “Do you know why I came back?”
I guess I’m about to learn.
I sit back, letting her talk.
“When I left Washington and went off to California and Arizona, I did a lot of reflecting. What I wanted. Who I’d become.”
I nod, taking another sip.
I think we’ve both done plenty of reflecting over the years—and if hers was anything like mine, it couldn’t have all been positive.
“I worked in Sedona the last few years,” she continues, “and the energy in the earth, the way people would come there to heal, it really made me think about my choices, my priorities. I had a son, but I hadn’t even seen him in a year.” Her eyes fill with tears. “My son, Archer. It’s like I woke up.”
Damn.
It’s like watching what happens after a light switch flips, changing her from the confident person I knew to someone so vulnerable.
But there’s nothing I can say.
She brought this on herself.
She’s not Winnie—if she was sitting in front of me, looking so pitiful, I’d have ripped apart the world to protect her.
With Rina, her pain is self-inflicted. It feels like watching some addict stranger on the street, a slave to bad habits, still begging for money.
You feel pity, sure, but it isn’t personal.
Is that what love is? This desperate need to shield Winnie from the crap in her life versus this melancholy heartache at Rina waking up to her own self-destruction?
She’s right, of course—she had a son she never fucking bothered to see.
I don’t tell her the last visit was wellovera year ago.
There’s nothing I can say to make that better, to take back time.
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