Marriage: Impossible (Voretti Family Book 1) by Ava Blackstone Page B

Because, even now, knowing everything, he wanted to grab onto that word. Use it to bind them together irrevocably.
    “Did you hear me? I said I love you.”
    “I heard.”
    “What? You don’t have anything to say?”
    He had too much to say. Too many words—a jumble of anger and pleading and need that kept growing. “No.”
    The words pushed at his throat, battling to get out. He swallowed them down, down, down. “It doesn’t matter.”
    “Of course it matters. Please, Sean. Tell me how you feel. I need to know, or we’re never going to be able to work through this.”
    “This isn’t something we’re working through.”
    “What do you mean?”
    His heart pounded in his ears. “I mean, it’s over. You’re free.”
    “I’ve always been free. I was with you because I wanted to be with you.”
    He let the words wash over him—only noise, no real meaning.
    “You’re the man I’ve always wanted.”
    She kept talking, but he didn’t let himself listen. He just breathed. In and out and in and out.
    She would have to stop soon. She’d run out of energy or words or the desire to fight for a man who didn’t deserve her.
    But he’d underestimated her. She kept right on going, and even though he wasn’t listening to the words themselves, he couldn’t escape her tone. The desperate pleading in her gaze.
    Even breathing was a struggle because with every dose of oxygen, he pulled in her scent. He had to get out of here.
    “Sean, please. Where are you going?”
    “Out.” He pulled the door, but it stuck.
    He hated the door. He hated the apartment. He hated the universe for giving him Keri and then taking her away.
    He jerked on the knob, and it finally came open, slamming into the wall. Bits of paint and drywall rained onto the floor.
    His hand was bleeding. He didn’t know how he’d gotten the deep red gash, and he didn’t care. He couldn’t feel it. He couldn’t feel anything over the throbbing wound in his heart. Maybe he never would again.
    “Come back! You can’t—”
    “Go home, Keri. You’re not my wife, and this isn’t your apartment.”

CHAPTER 8

    T HE DOOR WAS perfectly ordinary—wood paneling surrounding a frosted glass window. No reinforced steel or heavy-duty lock to keep Sean out. Only the black lettering on the window— Compassionate Counseling .
    Man up, Patterson. If you can’t open that door, you’re never going to be worthy of Keri.
    Just like that, walking inside was the easiest thing in the world. He’d promised Keri he would see a therapist, and he was going to do it.
    He’d been a complete ass this morning, but he’d been right about one thing—he wasn’t worthy of her. Not because of what had happened to Ty, but because she deserved more than a man who bottled up his emotions, lashing out at the people who loved him the most.
    He wasn’t worthy of her now . But he was damn well going to be.
    A woman looked up from her computer behind the reception desk. “Can I help you?”
    The question echoed inside his head. For so long, he’d been afraid to ask for help. Afraid talking about his problems would make them worse. Afraid he’d be a disappointment to his friends and family. Less of a man.
    But all those fears were nothing compared to the one that gripped him now. If he didn’t get help he was going to lose Keri. Assuming he hadn’t already.
    He took a deep breath. “I need to make an appointment.”
    *
    Sean wasn’t there.
    Keri forced her anxious frown into a smile and walked into the small conference room at the county administration center. The walls were blank white, the lighting was fluorescent, and the chairs looked like they’d been scavenged from a going-out-of-business sale, but the atmosphere in the room was unmistakably joyful. Annabelle cooed at a baby dressed in a tuxedo onesie, looking stunning in an embroidered sheath dress. Her family surrounded her and Ty, a boisterous group that had already taken her brother in like he was one of their