The Rescue - Nicholas Sparks [115]
“You’re a wonderful person, Taylor. You’ve got so much to offer someone, and I hope that one day you’ll finally meet the person who can make sense of all that pain you’re carrying around. You deserve that. In my heart, I know you didn’t mean to hurt Kyle. But I can’t take the chance of that happening again, especially when you’re not serious about our future together.”
“I’m sorry,” he said thickly.
“I am, too.”
He reached for her hand. “I don’t want to lose you.” His voice was almost a whisper.
Seeing his haggard expression, she took his hand and squeezed it, then reluctantly let it go. She could feel the tears again, and she fought them back.
“But you don’t want to keep me, either, do you?”
To that, he had no response.
Once he was gone, Denise drifted like a zombie through the house, holding on to her self-control by a thread. She’d cried most of the night already, knowing what was to come. She’d been strong, she reminded herself as she sat on the living room couch; she’d done the right thing. She couldn’t allow him to hurt Kyle again. She wasn’t going to cry.
Damnit, not anymore.
But watching Kyle play with his Legos and knowing that Taylor would no longer be coming by the house made a sickening knot rise in her throat.
“I’m not going to cry,” she said aloud, the words coming out like a mantra. “I’m not going to cry.”
With that, she broke down and wept for the next two hours.
“So you went ahead and ended it, huh?” Mitch said, clearly disgusted.
They were in a bar, a dingy place that opened its doors for breakfast, usually to a waiting crowd of three or four regulars. Now, however, it was late in the evening. Taylor hadn’t called until after eight; Mitch had shown up an hour later. Taylor had started drinking without him.
“It wasn’t me, Mitch,” he said defensively. “She’s the one who called it off. You can’t pin this one on me.”
“And I suppose it just came out of the blue, right? You had nothing to do with it.”
“It’s over, Mitch. What do you want me to say?”
Mitch shook his head. “You know, Taylor, you’re a piece of work. You sit here thinking you’ve got it all figured out, but you don’t understand anything.”
“Thanks for your support, Mitch.”
Mitch glared at him. “Don’t give me that crap. You don’t need my support. What you need is someone to tell you to get your ass back over there and fix whatever it was you did wrong.”
“You don’t understand—”
“Like hell I don’t!” Mitch said, slamming his beer glass onto the table. “Who do you think you are? You think I don’t know? Hell, Taylor, I probably know you better than you know yourself. You think you’re the only one with a shitty past? You think you’re the only one who’s always trying to change it? I have news for you. Everyone has crap in their background, everyone has things they wish they could undo. But most people don’t go around doing their best to screw up their present lives because of it.”
“I didn’t screw up,” Taylor said angrily. “Didn’t you hear what I said? She’s the one who ended it. Not me. Not this time.”
“I tell you what, Taylor. You can go to the goddamn grave thinking that, but both you and I know, it ain’t the whole truth. So get back over there and try to salvage it. She’s the best thing that ever happened to you.”
“I didn’t ask you to come here so you can give me some of your advice—”
“Well, you’re getting the best advice I’ve ever given you. Do me a favor and listen to it, okay? Don’t ignore it this time. Your father would have wanted you to.”
Taylor squinted at Mitch, everything suddenly tensing. “Don’t bring him into this. You don’t want to go there.”
“Why, Taylor? Are you afraid of something? Afraid that his ghost is gonna start hovering around us or knocking our beers off the table?”
“That’s enough,” Taylor growled.
“Don’t forget, I knew your father, too. I knew what a great guy he was. He was a guy who loved his family, loved his wife, loved his son. He would have been disappointed by what you’re doing now, I can guarantee it.”
The blood drained from Taylor’s face and he gripped his glass hard.
“Screw you, Mitch.”
“No,