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Even with her gaunt cheeks and messy hair, I wanted to kiss her so badly it hurt, and that made my frustration rise.
It had always been Kate. My hands shook as the truth seeped into my pores. It had been her since I was just a stupid kid.
“I hate you,” she whispered, her eyes filling with tears. “I wish you were dead because then I could have my children back.” I stumbled away from the bed, horrified, and watched as she fell asleep as if I’d never even been there. Jesus Christ, what had I done?
I just wanted her. Even without the kids, I’d want her. The kids just made that bond a million times stronger. I wanted her to look at me the way she’d looked at me when we were stupid teenagers—like I could do anything. I wanted to see all the changes that carrying Iris had done to her body. I wanted to map her curves with my fingers and know when she was about to start her period because I’d been with her so long that I could recognize the signs. I wanted the little things and the big things.
I’d pushed her aside for so long that there was no foundation to build on. Just a mess of shattered pieces that I’d crushed with a sledgehammer every time she’d grown closer than I was comfortable with.