Chapter 2

Nicole looked back at me, and her eyes were startlingly bright. That light was like a bolt of lightning through the darkness, illuminating every bleak year that had come before her.

"Sir, wake up. We need to draw some blood."

A nurse gently shook me awake. I opened my eyes to the harsh fluorescent lights of the hospital room and couldn't tell the dream from reality for a moment. She noticed I was alone and gave me a sympathetic look.

"Your family still hasn't come? Maybe you should hire an attendant. A fever this high is dangerous."

I shook my head. My throat was so dry I couldn't get a word out.

I dragged myself toward the lab, but as I rounded the corner, I spotted two familiar figures up ahead.

Finnegan was carefully supporting Nicole by the arm. She walked slowly, her cheeks still tinged pink.

"I told you I didn't need to see a doctor. You're the one who insisted."

"It's my fault. I was too rough." Finnegan wore a look of concern, but the satisfaction in his voice was unmistakable. "I can't believe you actually tore."

Nicole swatted his arm, turning even redder. "Stop it. We're in a hospital."

"Who's better, me or Simon?"

Nicole let him nudge her a few times before she finally answered. "You, obviously. Simon's old. The wrinkles on his face are hideous. One look at him and I completely lose interest."

I stood there, numb, and ran a hand over my face. The skin wasn't smooth anymore. Time had carved its lines.

But those were the marks of years spent working myself to the bone for our family, and to her, they were nothing but ugly and repulsive.

"Simon?" Finnegan turned and spotted me, his eyes widening. "What are you doing here?"

Nicole spun around too. When her gaze met mine, guilt flashed across her eyes, but it vanished almost instantly and was replaced by fury.

"Did you follow me here? Did you put a tracker on my phone again?"

There was a time when I'd checked her location out of concern for her safety, but that was a long time ago.

"No," I said flatly.

Somehow, that only made her angrier. She stormed over and slapped me across the face. The crack echoed down the hallway.

"You're getting more disgusting by the day, Simon. Stalking me, lying to my face, getting jealous over every little thing."

Her eyes were filled with disgust. "I am so sick of you."

My ears rang like a swarm of bees had been set loose inside my skull. There was nothing left of the brilliance I'd once seen in those eyes back in the wheat field. All that remained was pure disgust and impatience.

The hand that had once held mine so tightly, the one that promised to lead me out of the worst of it, was now trembling after striking me. It was funny how much harder someone could hit you once they stopped loving you.

"Nicole, don't get yourself worked up over this." Finnegan stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her, but the look he gave me over her shoulder was pure, undisguised triumph. "I'm sure Simon didn't mean anything by it. He just cares about you too much."

Nicole let out a sharp, shrill laugh, as though she'd just heard the most ridiculous thing in the world. "You call that caring? That's psychotic. Finnegan, you have no idea what he used to—"

I had no interest in standing there while she rewrote every part of our history. Everything she'd once called devotion had become evidence of how sick I was in her retelling.

I cut her off. "Nicole, I already sent you the divorce papers. Let's just end this."

"You… What did you say?"

Her rage went cold in an instant.

I didn't look at her. I looked past her, straight at Finnegan. "Congratulations. You picked up my trash."

The smugness on Finnegan's face went rigid, then darkened into something humiliated and furious.

And Nicole lost it completely. "Say that again, Simon! Who the hell are you calling trash?"

She lunged at me, fists swinging. "You think you can call me trash? Who do you think you are?"