The Guilty - Jason Pinter [65]
the misery etched on her face, they drowned it all out.
So when I saw Mya Loverne standing alone in front of my
building, wearing an old sweatshirt, her eyes bleary and red
from crying, I didn't know whether to scream at her, or to
gather her in my arms and tell her everything would be all
right. Like I should have done the night she got hurt. Like I
hadn't done for her since.
"Henry," she sobbed, taking a tentative step toward me. I
couldn't move. All I could do was stare at the woman who'd
shared my bed so many nights, whose hand I'd held and
caressed, who just the other day had thrown me under a bus
driven by Paulina Cole. A girl who had just lost her father to
a heartless monster. I didn't know what to say to this girl. But
then I found myself taking a step forward.
"Henry," she said again, the sobs now racking her small
body. Mya looked like she'd lost at least twenty pounds since
I'd last seen her, and she was a slim girl to begin with. She
looked malnourished, pale, like she had given up on herself.
"Henry, I didn't mean to. I didn't mean to say all those things,
they just happened. Henry, I'm so sorry. Please, my father, I
don't know what to do."
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My heart broke as I watched this, this shell of my former
love. I took another step toward her, and she did the same.
"My dad," she cried, her voice interrupted by staccato sobs,
"my dad was killed. Oh God, Henry, please say something."
I took another step. I could feel her breath, caught the faint
whiff of perfume sprayed on long ago and never washed off.
Her hair was a ragged mess, her eyes streaked and bloodshot.
"Mya, I'm so sorry for your father...I...he was a good
person."
"I know he was good," she shouted. "So why did he have to
die?" She came toward me, didn't hesitate, and suddenly Mya
was leaning against my chest. Not in an embrace, but for support.
There was no strength in her. If I moved she would collapse.
But I didn't move. I couldn't.
"Mya, I'm going to find this guy. I promise. I'm sorry for
everything I've done, everything I did."
She looked up at me. Her eyes blinked twice. She sniffed.
"You told me you would always be there for me," she said.
My stomach burned as I drew in a breath. Then her eyes
opened, I saw a fire in them, as she pounded her fists against
my chest and screamed, "Where were you, Henry? Where
were you when I lost everything? When my fucking father
died? Where have you been? "
She brought her fists down on my chest, punching me with
no force behind the blows. Then I took her arms and held
them.
"I'm going to help you," I said. "I'm going to help you get
your life back together. You've always been one of the strongest people I've ever known, Mya. And you can come back.
You can do great things."
"I have nobody," Mya cried softly. "I lost you. I lost my
father."
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Jason Pinter
"You didn't lose me," I said gently. "You didn't want me.
We weren't right together. You don't want me. You haven't
for a long time. But I can help you. I will help you."
"I just want to be happy," Mya said. She wiped her eyes.
A piece of lint from her sweatshirt caught on her eyelash. I
plucked it free. She laughed through her sobs. "You used to
make me happy, Henry."
I didn't know how to respond. Mya's arms had freed themselves, and I felt them wrap around my waist. Mya hadn't been
this close to me in a long time. Yet there were no sparks. I held
her like I would hold a small child. For comfort. For protection.
I wanted to hate her. I wanted to ask why she said those
things to Paulina, why she took our private life and made it
public, why she threatened to ruin us both. But I also wanted
to squeeze all the pain from her body. Because she didn't
deserve any of it.
Before I could think, I felt Mya's breath on my face; harsh,
sweet. She leaned in. I wanted to stop her but I couldn't.
Couldn't say no to her right now. I felt her breath, didn't
want it like this. But I couldn't break this girl's heart one more
time. Her breath touched my lips, I wasn't