Always torn when it comes to him and exhausted with the effort of keeping this all together. My head and heart are at war between sorrow and rage, and I’m on a precipice between needing him and hating him. I want to believe, to let his words heal and count, but I also can’t. Because he tore me apart and left me alone when it mattered. I turn my back to him to give myself a little time to get control, to breathe slowly and calm my sobs, but his warm hands slide over my shoulders, making ...