Shattered Pieces

Eleven

SPENCER

The life I thought I knew, the life I loved, was gone in thin air with the blink of an eye. Everything hurts right now. I've spent my life learning how to cope with betrayal ever since Corey left. Tonight, I'm on the edge of something breaking.

I continue to drive as my mind slowly fades further and further away. I can't begin to make sense of the way my wife tensed when I showed up beside her in the middle of her confrontation with Kennedy. My mind can't reconcile the way she was transfixed on my daughter, on Aaliyah. My heart refuses to accept the guilt that filled her eyes when that same sweet girl smiled at me.

She knew. The look on her face when I asked her why, haunts me. Why would she do this to me, to us? I guess I was too blinded by loving her to even consider that she could ever keep something like this from me.

And Kennedy.

By the time I'm done with Kennedy, meeting me will, without a doubt, be the biggest regret of her life, if it isn't already.

My little girl.

Three years.

My phone rings, Olivia again. I can't talk to her right now. The pain on her face that broke me continues ringing in my head as the call ends. I'm not even sure where I'm driving at this point; I just know I need to get as far away from the pain as possible.

I have a daughter, a three-year-old daughter who's probably been wondering where her daddy is. Or, even worse, she has been calling that bullshit excuse for a man Kennedy is touting around, daddy.

All of the oxygen painfully rushes from my lungs as the car skids to an abrupt halt. I slam the gear into park and pull out my phone, immediately searching for Kennedy's social media.

It doesn't take long to find her. There are tons of pictures of her and Naomi. Even Bryce makes an appearance in a few photos. Bryce better hope I never run into him because my fist has been itching for years to connect with his face.

He sent his wife to befriend my wife, knowing his precious Kennedy was keeping my daughter from me. I could kill him.

There's not a single photo of the precious little girl I now know is mine. I take a few screenshots and continue to search. I find her punk of a boyfriend's Instagram, and sure enough, he has my daughter proudly on display.  He might as well get in line behind Bryce, because his moment is coming. I grab a few more screenshots, then report every photo that has my daughter in it.

Olivia calls again, and I turn the phone off before tossing it in the backseat. My heart is so over-stimulated that I swear it could beat out of my chest at any moment. My hands grip the steering wheel so tightly I imagine it's quite painful. I prepare to start my drive again, but staring in front of me, all I see is blackness.

Every nightmare over the past four years. Every time my wife would shut down at the mention of Kennedy's name. The binds of betrayal squeeze so tight I can almost see her hands wrapped around my neck, draining the life right out of me.

I wish she couldn't bear to lie to me. She chose to lie to me every night she would lie with me.  I wish she were sorry for her honesty. Sorry that her honesty had the potential to cause me pain, but at least she wanted me armed with the truth.

And Kennedy.

The truth slowly creeps into every bone, and my chest grows so heavy I'm not sure it's a weight I can continue to carry.

I put the car back in drive and continue my ride. She has to have a reason. I've never prayed harder for something than for a logical explanation from my wife. I want nothing more than to hear the right words in her sweet voice that somehow end this nightmare—replenishing my lungs with air that doesn't feel like lead.