When Trust Is Gone - The Quarterback's Regret Novels & Stories

Olivia watched with despair as the police hauled away Heather and Jack. "Chris, is there really no chance for us?" she cried. I crouched down, meeting her eyes. "Three years ago, you wanted to prove yourself. I gave you that shot. You wanted a career, so I handed over my company. You wanted your own circle, so I stepped back and gave you freedom. You failed my trust and hurt Sophie. Do you think you deserve another chance?" I stood up, my heart heavy but resolute. "We're done. The divorce agreement will be delivered to you tomorrow."

Her mind kept playing back memories. When Chase heard her close the door, he mumbled in disappointment, “Quinn, oh, Quinn. Why did you lie to me? “You went to Mount General Cemetery with the police, but you told me that you were working at the office. “It’s probably because you’ve never trusted me from the very start.” Chase smiled self-deprecatingly. “That shouldn’t be surprising. It’s just pretend between us. What right do I have to ask for your trust? “I think it’s time for me to leave.”

“It was safer than being a prize in your house. It was safer than being a key in Dominic’s box.” His face changed. The moon found a new line in it. For a moment I thought I saw regret. Then he hardened. “You could have told me what you found,” he said. “You could have trusted me.” “Trust you,” I laughed, though the sound broke. “You let Kyle die. You buried him. You called it necessary. You handed him to the ground and called it order. How do you expect me to trust you after that?” The bond pulsed and tasted like ash. I felt him, a quiet storm inside him. I felt something that might have been guilt. I felt the heat of his want. Every time he moved closer, that want nudged at me like a drug.

One moment I let myself feel, let myself want, let myself be human. Now it had cost me everything. And yet… my hand went to my stomach. The faintest swell too small for anyone else to see, but real to me. Beneath my palm, a life beat. Mine and his. A piece of that night that couldn’t be erased, no matter what he told the cameras. Regret cut through me like a knife. Not for the baby ,never for the baby. But for trusting him. For believing the man who once listened to me on the balcony, who looked at me like I was more than a scholarship case, would stand by me now.

I crossed my legs and looked at him with cold mockery. "Tell me who did this to you. I would like to thank them." He stayed silent, staring at the ground. Regret was clear on his face. After two long minutes, he finally looked at me and spoke softly. "I am sorry, Elnoear. Truly sorry." I ignored him, turning my gaze toward the window. Does he really think an apology can erase what he did? My trust is gone. I cannot even feel safe sitting in the same room with him. How am I supposed to trust him again?

"You can't even protect yourself! You don't even know who you can trust!" The truth of her words cut deeper than any blade. I did not know who I could trust. I suspected the man who had been helping me. I was lost in a world where asking questions got innocent people murdered. "I'm sorry," I whispered, backing toward the door. "I'm so deeply sorry for your loss. I'm full of regret, and I know that does not bring them back." She turned her face away from me, toward the wall. "Just go," she said quietly. "Please, just go."

> "When you told me you were pregnant, I panicked. I was terrified I’d hurt you, afraid I’d turn into the man who destroyed his own family like my father did. But my fear turned me into a coward. I ran away." Her breathing turned shaky. A quiet sob escaped her lips. > "You know what I regret most? It’s not losing you. It’s losing your trust." > "You stood strong on the ruins I left behind, and you kept going. While I—the man you loved—crumbled and vanished." She cried harder. The letter didn’t contain sweet promises or pleas to come back. There was no "please forgive me" or "I can’t live without you." Just truth. Guilt. Regret.

“But it doesn’t feel like enough. I keep thinking—maybe if I’d caught it sooner, or handled it differently…” She interrupted, firm. “Maybe. Or maybe Marcus would have found another way. This isn’t on you, Den. The people who matter know the truth.” He smiled, grateful. “Thank you.” That night, Denver couldn’t sleep. He replayed every meeting with Marcus, every conversation; he knew he was upset, angry, and livid over being a loser. But just didn’t know how far he would take it. He wondered if he’d missed something obvious all these years. He wondered if he could ever get over it. He knew it would never be the same; the trust was gone, not just from the company but from himself.

If I were too lazy to go, he'd brave the wind and snow just to bring it back. When I was sick, he panicked more than I did, wishing he could take my pain instead. During my worst menstrual cramps, he warmed my stomach with his hands, massaging it gently. Little things like that made me trust him. But once he cheated, all of it—every tender moment, every sweet gesture—became meaningless. Even the love he once showed me now felt like a cruel joke. "Yelena Stone, you chose the wrong person." I thought. A voice then pulled me back from my thoughts. It was my turn.

"I can't go back. I can never go back." I sighed and leaned back in my seat. "I hope one day you do not come to regret your words today and realize he is the only one you can ever trust and run back to, and by the time you realize that, it’s already too late." To be continued…!