Page 154 of Severed Heart

“It is true, Soldier. It’s so true,” she sniffs. “I want no lies between us. Not ever again. I will never lie to you again, Tyler.”

“Glad to hear it,” I say, brushing the last tear from her cheek. “Talk to me. Tell me what happened,” I coax gently as I eye the bottle again, cursing the fact that it might be empty.

“When Dom picked me up from my treatment, I asked him to take me to a sunset, and I made my confession, my apology after all these years, as Regina suggested.”

“And it didn’t go well?” Fire starts to lace my veins at the thought Dom might have triggered her.

“No,” she sniffs. “Well,yes, it went very well. He took me to the most beautiful place for a sunset and told me the most wonderful story. He seemed to accept my apology. Until we got home, and I confessed how I had wronged Cecelia in the past. It is my greatest evil, Tyler. One that I want to confess to you,” she exhales and turns her face toward the moonless sky. “I think he will forgive me with time. He was just outraged because he is just ... in love. He’s so very in love with her, Tyler. I have so much happiness for him for that.”

“Okay.” My shoulders inch down slightly. “So what has you so upset?”

“It’s happiness, its sadness, it’s regret, so much regret. Regret for you,” she says. “For so many things, and I feel it, Tyler. All of it,” she whispers between us. “I feel,” she shakes her head. “Remember when you told me to stop numbing and let it all come?” She croaks, “it has come.”

I nod in understanding, scooping her into a firm hold against me and walking her through the door. Just as I start to close it, she begins to wiggle out of my hold, and I release her in confusion.

“No, Tyler, no.” She doubles back and snatches the bottle from the table as dread fills me. “This fucking shit,” she hisses as she sweeps past me, grabbing my hand in the process.

“It was just a slip-up,” I assure her, on her heels as she stalks us over to the sink. It’s then she cracks the bottle, and I gape at her in realization.

“No oneslips upfor twenty fucking years, Tyler,” she says, uncapping it, and without hesitation, begins pouring it into the sink. My heart explodes into rhythm as she looks over at me, her gray eyes resolute.

“No more fucking excuses. No more hiding behind this house, my past, or myself. I choose me,” she declares, “I choose my nephews—though it may be too late—and I chooseyou.” The liquid continues to pour from the bottle as she watches it with wrath before looking over to me.

“I choose ourprecious friendshipthat I have missed every fucking day because it matters far more than numbing any discomfort, but this,” she presses her palm to her chest where her heart lies. “This is,” she shakes her head. “It’s full ofso much feelingI have numbed for so long, Tyler. So many regrets for my decisions and actions. It’s all coming at once. But I am thankful to finally say it. To speak of what Alain did to me. Thatmotherfucker,” she hisses before blowing out a breath. “As much as I hate speaking it to Regina, it’s time. It’s time because Ichoosenow tolive.” She tosses the drained bottle into the sink with finality as she moves to stand in front of me and grips my hands.

“I have many regrets, but this is the decision I will never regret and make again and again forme. Because I want my future, Tyler, and I want you in it so much. I’mfucking donewith the drink,” she declares. “Done.”

Explosions detonate in my chest as every fiber of my being lights at her confession, and I pull her to me, clutching her as tightly as I can without hurting her. “I’m so proud of you, General.”

She cries for a few seconds before her muffled voice fills my ears. “Do you believe,” she asks, pulling away to look up at me, “that I can still be redeemed?”

“You already are,” I assure her, wiping her tears. “For yourself, that’s most important.”

“I don’t want to hide anymore,” she relays low.

“You can’t, not from me.”

“Tyler,” she croaks, and I see it then—the fear, the emotions crashing into her, the weight she’s holding, and the levee threatening to break. She palms my face, her eyes glistening with fresh tears.

“So much to say to you, Soldier, but I want you to know I understand why you didn’t text me or come back.”

I frown at her words but let her speak, her chest shuddering as her tears start to flow rapidly. “I understand why you were angry with me. You bravely let me see all of you, and I gave you so little. I d-do not blame you for deciding to stay away. But I am ready to confess to you now. All that I can.” She pulls me to her and grips me tightly. “I want to tell you of my past.”

“I’m right here.” Feeling the bloodletting happening inside her, along with her fear, my chest stretches as I utter the only words I know she needs to hear. “I’m here, Delphine, and I’m listening.”

She leads me to the table where we’ve spent years mutely sharing our pain before finally putting a voice to what her pain consists of and where it stemmed from. Starting at the beginning with what she remembers of her mother, and of her fondest memories with Matis. Ending with her first-hand account of that fateful day in the snow. Recounting the night she met Alain, and the ‘favors’ she did for him at only twelve and thirteen years old. Of flying to America alone to become his child bride, sole supporter, and ultimately, his victim. Exhausting herself with all that she can recall. Relaying fondly some of her most beloved memories with her chosen sister, Celine. Whose loss fueled her spiral and the retribution-filled act she committed against Diane and Roman by way of Cecelia. An act she deems her darkest and most damning by putting a loaded gun in Cecelia’s crib.

I sit, utterly in awe, devastated by the events of her life as she lays herself bare for me, begging me not to think the worst of her as she unveils her demons. As she does this, another storm rolls in, and we weather it as it rages, both outside the house and within her.

Near dawn and exhausted, while simultaneously renewed, we share cold cheese pizza while playing a game of Battle. Our eyes meeting and holding continuously as we flash each other grins between moves.

Just as the sun starts to light the sky, we walk out of the backdoor to greet another day. Hand in hand on the small patio, the feel of this dawn, this day, is distinctlydifferent. In knowing one of her biggest battles has been fought and won. That sentiment shared but unspoken as I glance over her, just as she looks over to me, the sun lighting both our faces as she speaks.

“Thank you for coming back, soldier of my heart,” she whispers, full of emotion, lighting me up before turning back to scan the morning sky. “I’m so thankful you came home.”

“I am too,” I whisper, unable to rip my eyes away, realizing how far she’s come already in such a short time. Only ten days sober, I realize she’s already kicked open the door to her own cage.

My fighter, my survivor, my general, and the love of my fucking life.