The Longest Five Years (Completed)

Luke, cont.

Present Day

Everything spun out of control after that morning. Soon Reagan's choice wasn't the only thing between us.

The fights. The phone calls. The letters.

Admittedly, it took me a long time to forgive her. Even when I thought I had, I later realized I was lying to myself. And when I tried to tell her at the airport, she didn't want to hear it. She didn't want me anymore. The baby wasn't the only thing that had ruined us. My omissions had, too.

Jesus. It all feels like just yesterday, and yet I know we're not the same as we were back then. I know we're older. We've grown. But I also know it's part of what wrecked us.

Now here we are, two completely different people in a completely different world. But you know what hasn't changed? I still love her. I've loved before that moment and every second after it; I just couldn't bear that weight. I was young, too.

"You okay?" The concern in her voice snaps me back to reality, and I nod.

She presses her cheek softly on Emmy's head and looks me right in the eyes.

"She should go to bed. I'll be right back," she whispers, reaching over to squeeze my hand. I swallow and stare at Emmy. It's killing me that I can't tuck her in tonight. If I could go back in time, I'd still beat the shit out of Benson, just not anywhere near these two girls.

She reads me like her favorite book; she knows what's coming next. Her lip turns up in a half smile as she scoots closer to me for a second so I can lean over to press a kiss to Emmy's head. "Goodnight, baby," I whisper in her hair. I'm all emotion when I look at Reagan, and she knows that too. She bites her lip.

"Don't try to move," she says, rising off the bed. I swear her eyes don't leave me until she's in the hall. I let out a long breath.

Jesus Christ.

It's been a hell of a long night and I want nothing more than to close my eyes and pass out, but I know that's the worst thing I could do if I'm teetering on a concussion. I feel fuzzy.

I can taste the blood; iron on my tongue as it slides over my bottom lip. I close my eyes, just for a moment. Just to block out the light. Just to reaffirm what I've done.

From a professional angle, I messed up tonight. I know better. I know what can happen...what might happen...but I don't regret it. My head is going every direction tonight, like I'm fighting a bigger battle now that I'm home.

One minute I was coming off the high of the honest moments I'd just shared with Reagan on the hood of my car, and the next I was seeing red, doing my best to beat her door in before Benson could hurt her. And when I finally saw her, I couldn't think straight...the heartache in her eyes...her concern for my little girl...Benson's wild smile. I should've gone with them, but I lost it. And the second they were out of the apartment, I stopped thinking about the right thing to do. I didn't want to be the better man. He shot me wrong smile...made one wrong comment about Reagan...and my fists started swinging. My heart started fighting.

I'm in and out again. Foggy. Fighting sleep...

'You fucking my girl, King?' Punch. 'You go and nearly kill yourself to get her home?' Punch.

The blood was pounding in my head. I couldn't breathe. Couldn't see straight. Couldn't stop punching.

'She likes it rough, you know?' Punch. 'Don't let her fool you.' Punch. 'She begs me.'

He took his swings and knocked me good a few times, once so hard I fell into the corner of Erin's granite countertop. Once so rough I knocked into a mirror on the wall. But through the blood and the rage and the fists, all I could think of was Reagan. Reagan. Reagan.