Page 78 of We Drank the Dawn

With a grin, she tore the thin white tissue paper surrounding the jewelry box and revealed a golden bracelet with fifteen unique charms dangling from it. She gasped. “Oh, Peter, this is so pretty.” She fingered through them. “Are they all little suns?”

“Yes.”

“Oh my goodness.” Her watery blue eyes found mine. “I love it.”

“There’s fifteen. One for every year.”

She tsked as emotion drummed up in her eyes. “Put it on me. I want to wear it.” She held out her right hand.

“For the wedding?”

“Of course!”

Laughing that Sarah wanted to add the bracelet to her already perfect ensemble, I latched the gold around her wrist then lifted her chin to look into her eyes. “Ready to cross get married off your list, Sunshine Girl?”

MIDNIGHT

TWENTY-SIX

Sarah

Four days ago

Imade it all the way to Amarillo, Texas before my humanity necessitated that I check into a hotel. My muscles unraveled as I stepped out of the car. I’d been so tense the entire drive. My hands ached from the way I’d clutched the steering wheel, and my neck felt like it could snap. Even my jaw felt sore.

Peter had called. Even though I asked him not to. Driving down the interstate, I blocked his contact then chucked my phone into the backseat. I didn’t want to talk to anyone.

Ten phone numbers.

A kiss.

It didn’t matter if he was drunk and not thinking straight. It did not matter.

Why did he even put himself in that situation? Why go that far in the first place? He could claim all day that it was an accident, but his following actions tracked with his previous words. He was out for a good time, and got himself one.

Was he that miserable with me, seriously? Had going blind made him suddenly hate me? Why had my pleas to connect with him fallen on deaf ears only for Peter to turn around and make such a good impression on so many ladies that he was getting volunteer tit pics on his phone? How had he gone from resenting my touch to kissing another woman?

The fact that I had toted him all the way to Texas to “focus on us” was so embarrassing now that I wanted to pull a comforter over my head and disappear. I should’ve seen that we were too far gone.

The rejection festered in my heart as I tugged my suitcase out of the trunk and made my way into the Hampton Inn. A thread tugged at the back of my conscience, telling me to slow down and try to understand him. But I rejected the notion before it could take root.

I was done trying to understand Peter. I would never be able to understand why he refused to pick himself up and move forward. I would never coddle him like Lynn or act like the world dealt him a bad hand. This was life. Things were hard sometimes. Peter should’ve understood that better than anybody.

Flashes of the boy on the hospital bed filed through my mind. He had more vitality leaning over a bed pan and puking his guts out while cancer ravaged his blood than he did with a healthy body, a wife to love, a career he enjoyed, and a family who adored him. As a teenager, wiping his brow and watching him wither away felt like hard work.

But the darkness was our true mountain.

For all the obstacles we had faced and conquered, this was our breaking point.

I never thought I’d be that woman to leave her husband after a life-altering accident, but here I was—running. I reminded myself over and over: he wanted this.

He didn’t want the pressure a wife ushered into his world. He didn’t want the reminders that life could be more than blankets and pillows and suffocating depression. He didn’t want to feel guilty about me working so much. He didn’t want any more adventures.

In Peter’s world, loneliness was preferable to accountability.

So he could have it his way.

Maybe if I left him to his own devices, I could get a moment of peace. Maybe I wouldn’t be so exhausted all the time if I didn’t have to come home to his bad attitude every night. Maybe I could see some friends, have some fun, and get out of the house. Maybe if I didn’t have to worry about his happiness every second of the day, I could think about my own.