One Last Time
Chapter 9: Pain
By aznJEDI13
Disclaimer: Disney owns the Mighty Ducks. I own the plot and any original characters in this series.
Notes: This was written as pure fun. I hope that this does not offend anyone and if it does I did not by any means do it on purpose. Sorry I didn't have time to fix the grammar and all that fun stuff! This ones not that good.
This takes place ten years after D3. Enjoy!
Chapter 9: The Pain Just Won't Go Away
'…So lonely inside,
So busy out there,
And all you wanted was somebody who cares…''
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"You don't mind me going out, right?"
He laughed as his wife stood before him, trying to keep her voice hushed seeing as Katie was napping in the next room. "Go have fun." He paused, looking happily at his daughter and then up at his wife, "Don't worry about me. We'll be fine."
She shook her head, her voice strained and anxious, but also worried and concerned. "I should go. It'll be fun."
"I don't understand why you're so worried Connie. She's my daughter too and I have taken care of her before." He chuckled slightly, but stopped at Connie's gaze.
She shook her head some more, "You're right," She laughed to comfort herself, "You have taken care of her before and you'll be fine."
She still didn't convince herself finally after standing there silently pondering until she made up her mind. She strained a smile slightly, "I'm going to go, but be sure, Guy," She paused to emphasize her point, "You feed her dinner when she starts crying."
He nodded in agreement, "I know Connie."
"And check her diaper then cause if she's not hungry she needs a change."
He strained his own smile, "I know Connie."
"And –"
He pressed his lips to hers, gently and tenderly caressing them with his own and shut her up completely. He pulled away after one kiss and left her with this dazed look on her face. He laughed slightly, "I know Connie – now go."
She laughed once she regained her senses, "Freedom," She breathed grabbing her purse and her keys, "I love you Guy."
As she exited, he whispered slightly, "I know Connie."
It was easy for Connie to express her feelings – she was just naturally good at it. She had told him so many times after those intimate passions where they had loved each other in ways for a long time he didn't know were possible.
She knew just how to express her feelings. He, on the other hand, had the hardest time doing it. The most he could mumble in bed was "You're so beautiful, I love you."
She seemed to understand though, she knew he couldn't express himself and so she took what she was given and knew he meant more. "It's all about what's in the heart," She would say and remind him.
The TV was on quietly in the living room and he was enrapt on watching the Sun Devils battle the puck against the Sharks. He had to restrain himself a few times from yelling and waking up his five-month-year-old daughter.
He waited first to see if she would calm down and when it seemed like she wasn't going to, he went into her little bedroom. Gently he picked up his daughter from the crib and soothed her with his voice, "Shh…daddy's here." He began, "I got you."
His brows creased in consternation, seeing as she wouldn't stop crying, "What? Are you hungry? You need a change maybe?" His eyes studied hers and then he shook his head, "You don't know how much I wish you could talk."
Slowly she began to calm down and he smiled to no in particular, "Shh…I got you." He repeated, "Shh…aw that's better." He said once she had calmed down.
Tenderly he pressed her tiny head, covered by a hat, to his right shoulder and then moved his right hand to support her neck as he held her. His left hand held the rest of her body against his. He swayed back and forth to an unknown tune in front of her crib in the nursery.
Watching as her tiny blue eyes glanced at him and then around the colorful room as her tiny fingers played with the collar of his shirt and reached for the feel of his soft skin, he spoke gently caressing her blond hair with his hand.
"Have I told you lately how much I love you?" he asked, knowing very well that she could not respond. "You're so beautiful. You have my eyes, my hair, even my little ears and nose, but you have your mother's strength and her passionate heart. That same fire inside of you, I can tell already by just watching you and hearing your strong lungs as you cry."
He smiled as she yawned and relaxed her head as it turned to look one way against his shoulder. "You'll be an amazing woman. You'll get all the guys; they'll always want your attention. Just like your mother. And someday you will chose your husband just like your mother chose me. He'll be one lucky guy."
He caressed her head gently, "You'll have all the friends and you will be a joy to all. You're already a joy in your mother and mine's life. You're the pride and joy of our life and you always will be."
He sobered, "There'll be some tough times, but we'll get through them. As long as we're together we can withstand anything life throws at us." He paused, "It may hurt some times and there will be pain, but I will always be here for you to lean on and count on. I will never go away." He breathed in and then out, kissing her forehead sweetly, "I love you, Katie."
He looked down at her and realized she was sleeping again, he smiled to his self and leaned forward placing her back on the mattress of the crib. He turned to see her figure in the doorway, "How long have you been standing there?"
"Just about the whole time." She smirked, that mischievous glint in her eyes, "I'm sorry I couldn't help it. I forgot something and I just had to keep listening once you began."
He smiled that smirk that she had first fallen in love with, "It's all right." He paused taking a deep breath, "So what did you think?"
"I think you're fooling yourself thinking she'll chose a husband just like you."
His face dropped suddenly as she came towards him, "What?" He asked in unbelief.
She smiled suddenly; "No one could be better than you Guy. You're an amazing husband and an incredible father." She reached up and caressed his cheek with her right hand. "And I mean it."
He reached up and pressed his hand on top of the her hand on his cheek, "You're amazing with words, have I told you that?"
She nodded, "You have," She leaned forward and touched his lips with her own and then pulled away, "But so are you. That was a wonderful speech you gave."
He reached to hold her waist with his hands, "I didn't know I had an audience though."
"It doesn't matter," she laughed silently, "I'm the luckiest woman alive. I have you."
He shook his head, "No, I'm the luckiest man around. I have two very beautiful and amazing women in my life."
She roped her arms around his neck and brought his lips down to meet hers. She kissed him not just once, not just twice, but several times until they needed air to breath. He felt sixteen again. He pulled away with a smile on his face that he could not wipe off even if he tried.
"Guy?" She asked.
"Yes?"
"You don't need words to say anything. You express it in everything you do." She replied as she gently caressed some of his blond hairs on the top of his head. "You're not so bad at saying things though. I love to hear your voice. It makes me feel safe."
He leaned forward and captured her lips again and then pulled back, "I love you Connie."
She smiled, "I love you too Guy." She kissed him and then pulled back suddenly, "Don't ever forget that."
He kissed her again and though he was tempted to tell her that he would love her forever, he knew she already knew.
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"Guy." He heard his voice. Someone was shaking him and calling his name. "Guy."
And so slowly he was leaving the dream world and his memories of Connie and Katie. "Guy, wake up Guy."
He stirred his eyes opening to meet the light. He squinted at first, the light he didn't remember being so bright. He didn't remember turning on a light at all. "Guy?" He blinked a few times so allow his eyes to adjust to the lights that he had so long ago hand picked by him.
Slowly the owner of the voice, his face came to meet his eyes and he starred straight at the other person. "Greg?" He didn't trust his eyes in the light, "Is that you?" He asked.
He felt two hands come to help him sit up and lead against the bed frame and then he heard the door shut. Greg reappeared again in his sight with this worried look his face.
Everyone had changed in the last ten years, while some more than others had; Greg had changed so much. Gone was the high, squeaky voice and in its place was a medium deep voice – that of a man. Gone was the big boned structure and hefty built and in its place was a lean, rounded enough to look like he ate and still good enough to say he had slimed down a hundred or two hundred pounds.
Greg didn't look like a goalie anymore; he looked like one of them.
Guy would say that Greg had changed the most, but then he would come across a mirror and realize that he had probably changed the most.
He had rid him self of his horrible fashion taste and replaced it with million dollar suits and expensive clothing. He had cut his hair, no longer was it shaggy or semi-long, but short and fitted on the sides and spiked on the top. His features, through all the pain and heartache, had matured and grown and he no longer held that baby face look.
His eyes shown brightly through anything, the blue always absorbing what was around him. His build was no longer too skinny and too small, but muscular, cut, lean and just perfect. And his voice, he knew was no longer warm or gentle, but callous and monotone sometimes a reflection of his heart and feelings and other times it mirror all his emotions.
He knew deep inside he had changed the most. He saw the looks of surprise that people from his past gave him.
And the looks that Connie had given him when she first saw him – those of uncertainty and questioning, but knowing deep inside who it really was. Those looks only confirmed his suspicions.
With that same worried look Greg's eyes bore into his, "What's wrong Guy?"
He laughed bitterly though he hoped that Greg couldn't tell he was being bitter and sarcastic – it hurt too much to do anything else. The pain just wouldn't go away. "Nothing's wrong, Greg." Greg didn't look convinced and continued to wait for a true answer, "My eyes are red aren't they?" He asked suddenly.
Greg placed his hand on Guy's shoulder, "Yeah, almost swollen shut."
Guy laughed, "Shut up." He sobered, "Julie told you I was here, didn't she?"
The goalie shook his head, "Portman did. He was in there consoling her."
Guy nodded.
Silence invaded them, creating a comfort and a fear in both men.
"You can tell me anything, Guy. I'll listen. I'm here for you, man." Greg said finally, breaking the long nerve-wrecking silence. His hand had by now dropped from Guy's shoulder and was resting in Greg's lap as he was seated next to Guy. Greg smile suddenly at Guy, "I've always been here."
Guy nodded feeling tears well at the sides of his eyes again. He wiped them away quickly and then blinked. Since when did Goldberg have this kind of effect on him? He wondered also why did it still hurt so badly?
"I don't know, Goldie. I don't understand why it still hurts."
Greg nodded, "You've been running away far too long, Guy."
Guy nodded in turn and wiped his eyes, "I just keep telling myself, I've got to suck it up. I can't show them I'm weak." He paused, sniffling and then spoke in almost a whisper; "I can't let him see that he's won."
"I don't understand Guy…" Greg's brows knit in confusion, "What happened with Connie and Charlie?"
Guy shook his head, turning away from the former goalie, "I've loved Connie with all my heart, you know."
"What happened?" He asked again.
"She betrayed me," He wiped his eyes, "With my best friend."
Making sure his mouth was not a gape; Greg asked the impending question, "How long ago?"
"Around three years."
Realization washed over Greg's face and he reached out and enveloped Guy in a hug, "Why didn't you say anything?" He released him, "You should've told us, we would have helped you."
"I didn't want to break up the team. That's the last thing I could ever want." He sniffled, "You guys are my only family now."
Greg nodded in understanding and then suddenly laughed to comfort himself, "You've always been full of excuses Guy. Even now." He clasped Guy's shoulder again; "You wouldn't have broken up the team. We would have all just been there to help you get over it instead of this – instead of the pain not going away." He froze suddenly, looking at Guy, "What's wrong?"
"I can't." He stuttered and took a deep break as if sucking in the pain, "It hurts too much to think about."
Suddenly, surprising and catching Guy off guard Greg reached under the bed and pulled something out, "So you turn to this again?" Worry sunk into his eyes, "I thought you were clean, man."
Guy stood suddenly, looking straight at Greg and then Greg stood to tower over him; "I was clean man! I had been sober for so long." He shrunk back into his seat and spoke in a whisper, "But I've lost her again and the world just doesn't seem worth living in anymore."
"It fulfills you doesn't it Guy?" He began, "Just like last time. It takes away the emptiness and all the pain that came from her. You need it, don't you? You need the feeling of releasing everything, of letting go of all your troubles, your worries – your problems."
Greg continued, "You have to succumb to it and let it control you because you feel like you have nothing to live for in life."
"I can't help it Greg," He cried, "It makes me feel better than I really am!"
He wanted it so bad that he began to reach out for the bottle his hand drawn towards it like a magnet ready to capture another magnet.
"Greg!" He cried, "Please give it to me!" He began to sob suddenly, "I need it," He whispered through his torrent of tears. "Need it so much."
"It helps you make believe, huh Guy? It helps you pretend that everything's all right." He shook his head, "Dude, Guy, this stuff could kill you!"
Greg opened the window and proceeded to pour the alcoholic beverage out the window. "No!" Guy screamed through more tears, "No! I need that Greg!"
Greg held it over the window until the last drop was gone and Guy's screaming had stopped, "Guy." He placed both his hands on Guy's shoulder, "Germaine speak to me man."
Slowly he stirred his eyes opening to look at Greg, "Why'd you do that? I need that." He shook his head; "You don't understand how much it hurts. This pain won't go away."
Greg nodded and his eyes pushed him to continue. "It hurts so much, doesn't it? Greg asked.
Guy could only nod. There was a long period of silence before he began again, "It hurts to see them together. It hurts to see her. It hurts to see the photos." He paused, "It hurts so much that I can't keep the pain inside anymore."
Greg looked at him, staring and boring his eyes into Guy's, "So you need something to make you feel love, needed, cared for. You need something to take away the loneliness and the memories, if not for forever but just for a little while. Something to keep you from bursting or exploding," Greg wiped his eyes, "You're slipping and you're falling away from us once more Guy. You can't do it again."
Guy nodded and wiped his own eyes, "Because this time," He sniffled, "There is no one to save me."
Greg shook his head, "No, we're all here ready and waiting with open arms." He tried to smile but failed, "Don't worry, we'll catch you."
Simply he replied referring to the Corona, "I need that."
Greg, sadly, nodded, knowing he could do nothing but support his friend, "I will support you in whatever you want to do."
And so, he handed Guy another Corona and Guy drank hoping that even for a few minutes the pain would disappear.
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Dean found her crying alone in the kitchen. She was in a fetal position on the floor; her hair in ruins as tears ran down her face. She had never looked that said before and he had never know her, almighty Julie the cat to cry, except once…
But he couldn't think of then. Reminding anyone of that time would just cause too much pain.
Julie had been the godmother.
At first, when he saw her crying he was going to turn his back and go back to where he had come from. But then he decided that there must be some way he could help her. "Jules?"
She sniffled slightly at the sound of his name and slowly calmed her tears, she sat up to see who had called her name, "Dean?"
He smiled this strained half intoxicated smile and came to sit next to her on the kitchen floor, "What's up?"
She shook her head and proceeded to wipe her eyes with her sleeve, "I'm sorry Dean. I wish I could say, but I just can't."
He nodded, "I understand." He paused, "Must be pretty serious to get you all worked."
She smiled, "Yeah, basically." It was then that she smelled his breath and tried not to choke or puke.
"We've all gone through a lot since high school, huh?" He asked.
She nodded, "So much." She closed her eyes suddenly and then opened them to look at him more closely. He looked exactly like she remembered he was still the same Dean, "We're all better now."
"Most of us." He concluded.
Her brows knit in consternation, " What do you mean 'most of us'?"
He shrugged, "Don't you ever just want to go back to high school?"
She shook her head, "Not particularly, why?"
"I think." He hesitated slightly, "I think I was happier then."
She laughed hoping he wouldn't be insulted, "Happier in high school? We were together then!"
"Yeah, that's what I was talking about." She saw he was serious then and her face immediately dropped its humor.
She reached to pick up his hand, "But we had always been fighting. It just couldn't have worked."
"You still think we were too different?" He asked.
She nodded, "It's true and you know it."
He nodded, not believing her; "I'm having problems with Stephanie. I didn't know marriage was going to be like this. It's so hard."
She closed her eyes, remembering the fight she and Adam had had days ago, "I know its hard sometimes, Dean and sometimes we don't understand why we got ourselves into it. But we just have to stick through the bad times."
He nodded his head again in understanding, "There's no escape is there?"
She shook her head.
"Escape is for those who can't stand to take what life throws at them, they're quitters."
"Is that Guy and Connie?" He simply asked.
She thought for a moment and then shook her head no, "Guy and Connie are different." She shrugged, "Somewhere inside both of their hearts they are still in love with each other and always will be. No matter what life throws at them."
"Why are you crying then?" he reached out and wiped a tear away from her eyes.
She began to sob, but managed to ask him to hold her and he complied with relent.
She couldn't control her sobs, thinking about it just hurt too much and she couldn't ignore the pain her friends were living in anymore.
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Charlie found contentment in watching her sleep, watching as emotions flickered off her placid and beautiful face.
He had wished all his life for someone as perfect as her.
Meanwhile, as Charlie's eyes rested on hers, Connie dreamed and dreamed and no matter what she could not run from Charlie and from her past.
From what had torn her life to pieces.
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When she opened the door, she knew she looked like crap – it was all over Charlie's face.
She hadn't looked in a mirror for ages since she hadn't left the house. Guy did all the leaving of the house; he did enough for both of them so she stayed inside. It was easier for her to cope looking at things then to not look at things.
Charlie had called minutes ago saying that he wanted to come by and see how she and Guy were doing. She told him Guy wasn't home. He said all the better. She hadn't realized at the time what he was implying.
So here she was standing at the door, looking like she had been through hell, which she had, and was debating whether or not to talk to Charlie at the door and with all the neighbors watching or to let him inside.
She preferred the former, but knew that privacy mattered more.
"Come in Charlie." She motioned to the couch. The house was fairly clean; she had thrown everything into another room.
He nodded, accepting her invitation and entered the living room. He glanced around the room, "Guy still not home?"
Sadly she shook her head, "He probably won't be until late tonight or early tomorrow morning."
"What is he doing?"
She thought about her answer for a minute and then remembered that it was Charlie she was talking to. She could trust Charlie. "I don't know, honestly. He just disappears and then comes back late at night." She sniffled, "Sometimes he's at practice or a game, but…" She lost her train of thought for a second, "I think they made him take a break."
Charlie nodded, unsure of what to say next.
She shook her head; "I know what you're going to say Charlie. He's drifting and I'm just sitting by and watching." She sniffed. "He doesn't seem to understand I'm hurting too." She began to cry slightly.
Charlie approached her and with uncertainty wrapped his arm around her as she began to cry. Soon he had gathered her in a hug as she wept in the front part of his shirt. "Shh…" He soothed, "Everything's going to be okay."
She shook her head; "You don't understand Charlie. I've been so alone. Guy's hurting too much to care. I think he blames." She paused. "He has to blame me otherwise why would he not be talking to me?"
Charlie shrugged and then thought about it, "No," His eyes bore into hers, "I think he blames himself. He thinks he could have done something – he thinks that you blame him so he can't stand to look into your eyes and see that you blame him."
"That's ridiculous."
"Is it Connie?" He shook his head slightly, "He's just feeding off the emotions he still has left. He's completely numb almost. He doesn't think he can turn anywhere." He hugged her tighter, "He thinks you don't love anymore because of what he did and he doesn't think you will be there for him."
She sniffled again, "What makes you think that?"
"If you look closely you can see it in his eyes."
"You've seen him lately?" She asked surprised, with a glint of hope in her eyes.
He shook his head sadly and she felt disappointed, "I don't need to see his eyes to know the look that's there."
She nodded knowing exactly what he meant.
He held her in an embrace for what seemed like hours, though only minutes. Finally he broke the unnerving silence, "Cons?"
"You okay?"
She shook her head no. He nodded and gripped her tighter. "Can you just hold me Charlie?"
He could only comply. "Of course I will."
They stood there for the longest time drinking in their own thoughts and basking in each other's presence.
She was about to close her eyes and drift off to sleep when she heard the door open slightly and then footsteps approached them. "Charlie?"
Her eyes snapped open. She knew that voice. She pulled herself from Charlie and flung her arms around her husband, "Connie?" He asked.
She laughed and pulled away to look him in the eyes, "Who else would it be?"
He tried to smile, but failed terribly and she couldn't help but notice. The light was gone from his eyes as he looked at her - he looked as if he was ready to collapse. "Guy?" She asked, "Guy are you all right?"
He closed his eyes and his body fell back slightly and then fell forward, "I don't feel so good Connie."
He leaned back once more and no one stopped him from falling until he collapsed into Charlie's arms. "Let's get him upstairs, Cons."
She nodded and followed as Charlie dragged Guy's motionless body upstairs.
After diagnosing him, they ventured back downstairs to where Charlie would bid his goodbye.
"I'll come back in the morning, Connie and check and see how he's doing."
She nodded and held the door open for him. "Thanks Charlie."
He smiled, "Anytime." He was about to walk to his car when he turned back to look at her, "Call me whenever."
She smiled back, "I will."
After he had left, she went back up to visit Guy who lay almost unconscious on their bed.
She reached out and took his hand in hers. She closed her eyes to stop the tears from coming. She held his hand up against her chest as a tear dripped down his hand and she whispered, "I'm sorry."
He stirred slightly, his forehead sweaty and his face flushed red. She reached out and placed a damp cloth on his forehead still holding his hand, "Shh…"
"Connie…" He mumbled, "Connie…"
"Shh…" she soothed, sniffling so that the tears wouldn't come, "Shh…"
She couldn't say anything else because she didn't know what to say. She leaned back against the chair, still holding his hand and fell asleep.
Hours later she awoke to his voice.
"Connie?" He asked.
She stirred slightly and then as soon as she remembered her eyes snapped open, "Guy?"
"Connie," He breathed out.
She rushed forward, "I'm right here Guy." She reached forward and began to caress some of his hair lightly.
He tried to smile, but started to feel queasy, "What happened?" He asked.
"You've had a terrible hangover."
He closed his eyes trying to remember. He opened them again and looked her straight in the eyes, "Call the doctor."
"But Guy-"
"Cons, please." He breathed out, squeezing her hand; "I need help."
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Connie's eyes flew open suddenly, thinking that perhaps she didn't call the doctor and she had fallen asleep at his side again. She opened them, however, only to see Charlie's sleeping form in the seat next to the bed.
She closed her eyes, wanting to sleep, but knowing she couldn't.
She took a deep breath and pulled the covers off her. Walking slowly at first, her joints popping and adjusting to her movements, she made her way over to the room with the dusty doorknob.
She figured it might be the only way to save her sanity or at least help her remember the good times only.
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Drinking, Guy found, released him somehow back into the world of dreams, memories that he swore he would never forget and memories he longed to relive.
And so he continued to dream and to think and relive the past parts of his life.
Except instead of happiness, he was condemned by his mistakes.
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"You've been drinking again." She simply stated from their bed.
He shrugged his shoulders and looked away. Going to his dresser for a clean shirt and tossing it on, still ignoring her. He heard her sniffle, but continued to do his own thing and only pay attention to his own selfish desires.
"You've been drinking, Guy, haven't you?"
He turned around then, looking as if she had slapped him across the face.
"What?" He demanded, his eyes growing with intimidation, but she did not falter in fear, "Don't accuse me of anything."
She closed her eyes and breathed out, "I'm not accusing you Guy," She paused and sniffled, "I can smell it on your breath." She blinked back tears, "And see it in your eyes."
He sat at the corner of their bed and turned to look at her. "Connie –"
"Don't Guy. I don't need your excuses. I don't need this." She took a deep breath, "Just come to bed."
He shook his head angrily and simply stated, "No."
"Guy, I don't want you to fall to that away. You've worked too hard to slip back into old habits." She let out a deep breath, "Please, now, just come to bed."
Again, angrily, he shook his head and turned his back to her. "No."
She tried not to let the hurt in her eyes show, but she couldn't help it. She didn't have the strength to hide her emotions and to hide the fact that she was hurting her, "Why not?" she asked.
"Not yet," He stood and grabbed his jacket from a chair, "I'm going for a walk."
Connie nodded sadly and spoke almost in a whisper, "Don't be long. I need you."
He was just about downstairs and out of the house when she came running after him.
"Wait Guy!" She had yelled at him.
Her petite steps made no noise on the stairs as she flew to meet him before he left. She hugged him tightly, catching him off guard.
"Connie?" He questioned, his arms encircling to hold her. His embrace was stiff and callous, but she ignored it. His embrace was awkward and weird, but she ignored it. His arms were different and changed, but she ignored it.
"What Connie?" He asked still surprised.
She ignored everything, hoping only that it would go back to the way it had been before.
She pulled back and looked into his eyes, reaching to hold his cheek with her right hand, "I'm hurting too, don't forget." She pulled her hand back and rested her head on his chest; "We can hurt together, if you just let me." She sniffled, "Just let go, Guy. Let go."
He moved to older her tighter, but then pulled away. She had watched the battle in his eyes, but last minute he had given up and moved to leave.
Simply, in that callous and monotone force he would later become so familiar with he spoke, "I'll be back later."
She moved to protest, "Guy-
"I promise."
He didn't come back - that night he returned a different man.
And as he walked out of the walkway, he heard her collapse in front of the door and weep, wailing loudly in pain and sorrow. His foolish pride and selfish desires kept him from running back and comforting her.
That was his first mistake.
And he would make many more after that.
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To Be Continued…
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