Chapter Thirty Two

Chevelle

I go through the entire ordeal with the officers, retelling them everything that happened in painstakingly vivid detail—too afraid to leave even the smallest, most inconsequential thing out, just in case it’s actually something that’s more important than I realize.
By the time I finish, my entire body is trembling and River had tried to butt in at least three times to get me to stop—which made the officers threaten to kick him out of the room if he didn’t stop interfering—but finally, I get it all out, River’s hand clenched between my own the entire time for support.
“I’m so sorry, baby,” he murmurs as soon as the officers leave the room. His eyes are filled with a mixture of despair and rage—and it’s a strange combination to see. But, I get it. He’s both angry and pained at hearing what happened to me while Joe held me captive. “I never should have let you go.”
I just shake my head back and forth, because he didn’t *let* me do anything. I left, and even if it was *because* of him, it was still my decision.
As if sensing the direction my thoughts have taken, he cups my cheek, looks me in the eyes, and says, “Okay, so I didn’t *let* you leave, but I never should have hidden the truth from you. You deserved to know, and I shouldn’t have been a coward about it.
Pulling away, I wrap my arms around myself and ask, “what about the things that you said, did what happened between us really not mean *anything* to you?”
He moves to touch me again, but I flinch, not wanting his touch or comfort until I know the truth.
“Chevy,” he says my name on a sigh, his gray eyes pleading with me, for what, I’m not exactly sure of yet. “Baby, I didn’t mean any of the things that I said.” He tries to grasp ahold of my hand, but I just curl my fingers in until I’m making a fist.
“You mean *everything* to me, and I never should have said otherwise.” Then, he places his hand against my blanket-covered abdomen, “You and our baby, you are all that I care about. I love you, Chevy.”
Tears begin to well in my eyes, but I don’t allow them to fall. *If what he’s saying is true, then why did he lie? Why did he push me away?* I can’t help but wonder.
“You pushed me away,” I start, letting my hurt and anger fuel my next words. “You sad that I was a mistake. I believed you when you told me that you loved me the first time. And then you—“ I can’t even finish my sentence. I take a deep breath, then say, “Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.”
“Baby, Chevy, please,” he pleads, standing up and leaning over me, his distress as clear as day on his face.
“Why?” I ask, not expanding anymore on what I’m asking. He knows, or at least, he should know.
“After the accident, once the trial and everything was over, I was lost,” he begins, sitting back down in the chair once more with his elbows on his knees, hands steepled together. “I started coming to the hospital to visit you right after it happened. The accident wasn’t my fault, but I still felt guilty. Somehow, over the course of my time visiting you, I began to feel something other than guilt toward you—which I know is crazy since you couldn’t even communicate with me.” He takes a deep breath, then continues, “I should have told you the truth from the very beginning, but you had no one and nowhere to go. I told myself that I would tell you once you got back on your feet. But, then I started to really like having you at my place. I began to wonder ‘*what if?*’ My feelings for you were growing and before I knew it, I was in too deep. I was terrified that if I told you the truth that I would lose you.”
I can see that he’s telling the truth, I can feel the sincerity of his words, but...
“We had sex. You slept with me, told me that you loved me, all while keeping this huge secret from me!” I accuse, hurt lacing each of my words.
“I know! Fuck, I know, baby and I’m so, so goddamn sorry,” he shakes his head back and forth, tears welling in his own eyes. He closes his eyes and one of them falls, sliding down his cheek, “I swore to myself that I wouldn’t cross that line with you, not without you knowing *everything* first.”
“And then I begged you, practically throwing myself at you,” I mumble, remembering how he kept putting the brakes on us, going all the way.
“I tried,” he says, his voice nearly a whisper. His bottom lip trembles and he opens his eyes, wiping his cheeks, and says, “but I only have so much willpower when it comes to you.”
“Is there anything else that I should know about?” I ask, preparing myself for any other bombs he may drop.
“There’s a lot that we both have to learn about one another. But I swear, I have no other secrets that I have kept from you,” he tells me with a hopeful expression. “I love you, Chevy. And I want to be with you, realize our baby with you, if you will let me.”
He’s right, there’s still *so* but to learn about one another, to talk about.
My past and all the skeletons that I had buried away and literally forgotten about.
His past.
Our future.
Our baby.
But there is only one thing that I need to say at this very moment.
“I love you, too, River.”