It’s the same thing I’ve said every time I hand it off. Nash nods once, sharply, then shakes his head.
“Why not?” he questions. “What if knowing you’re caring for her like this snaps her out of it?”
“Or what if she shuts down even more?” I bite back. I don’t mean to, my nerves are too fried.
“I know why you didn’t want her to know in the beginning. You were worried she wouldn’t take well to all your home remedies if she knew they were coming from you. But it’s been a week, herbruises are fading, and we’ve run out the time the doctor said she needs to rest her voice. Why does it matter if she knows now?” He licks at his lip ring and tilts his head to the side, studying me, trying to figure out my intentions.
Taking a deep breath, I let it out slowly and shrug my shoulders. “Because she might be pissed that we deceived her for a week?” I’m not really sure why I don’t want her to know anymore. Perhaps I only want to maintain the status quo.
“Better to tell her now than let it go on longer. Or do you plan to keep it a secret forever?” His question feels like a test. One that I’m not fixing to fail.
“Of course I don’t want to keep it a secret. I plan on being nothing but open with her if she gives me the chance,” I tell him.
“So I can tell her then?” He quirks an eyebrow, waiting for me to contradict what I just said.
“Fine. Go ahead if you think it’ll do anything.” Nerves churn in my stomach, but I don’t take it back. He gives me a single nod and takes the tray with him on the way to her room.
The counter bites into my side as I lean against it, watching him go. Each step he climbs to the second story feels like miles are being added to the stretch between Raina and me. I rub a hand over my face, trying to settle the storm inside.
Glancing around the room, I can’t help but remember what happened here. It feels like a lifetime ago, yet the image is so vivid. Seeing her in my shirt with nothing else on, flirting with my best friends, giving them the smile I love. The one that should’ve only belonged to me…
It’s my fault I lost that. I know it is. Not only because I let the distance grow between us when she stopped responding to me, I should’ve seen through it, known it wasn’t something she’d do. But I fell for it like a fucking fool.
Images of her face as I ripped the shirt open and dragged it off her frame fill my mind, making me sick. The way her eyes wentwide with shock, disbelief, and then betrayal. She was so fucking hurt. I don’t deserve her forgiveness.Am I being selfish trying to earn it back?
The quiet of being alone settles over me like a thick fog. The memory guts me, a raw wound that hasn’t begun to heal.Is it the same way for her?
I grip the edge of the counter, knuckles white as I remember how rage blinded me, how I couldn’t see past my own fury, couldn’t grasp the devastation I was inflicting. It was supposed to be a moment of passion, of rebellion, but all it turned into was an exposure of vulnerability, not just for her, but for me, too. I wanted to protect myself, but instead, I shattered something sacred between us.
And to make it worse, that wasn’t the last time I ripped her open and exposed her. I had to make it even worse and inflict more pain by twisting her lyrics into a weapon and singing it to a crowd right in front of her.
“God, what have I done?” I whisper to the empty room, the silence swallowing my words.
I need to find a way to explain—to peel back the layers of that night and reveal the truth buried beneath my anger. It was never about her; it was about feeling powerless in a world that seemed determined to take everything from me. But how do I even begin? How can I bridge this chasm I’ve created?
Again, I wonder if I want to do this simply to make myself feel better, or if it will help heal her wounds that I’ve created. Even if it’s simply to give her closure, that’s better than nothing, right?
Raina deserves more than the mess I’ve made. She deserves someone who understands her struggle, who can stand beside her without fear or shame. It’s why I’m so thankful for my best friends having her back when I didn’t. I saw it as a betrayal at the time, but really they did exactly what they should’ve.
Sometimes loyalty is disguised behind a veil of betrayal. It takes an awakening to see the truth behind it…
I’m not sure when I closed my eyes, lost in my thoughts, but I’m taken off guard when I find a forlorn Nash standing in front of me. I didn’t even hear him coming down the stairs.
His expression is heavy, burdened. “I—“ he starts, but the words seem to falter, caught somewhere between concern and frustration. He looks lost, a reflection of my own turmoil.
This misery certainly doesn’t want company. I care too much about my brothers to wish that on them.
“How is she?” I can’t help but ask, my voice barely above a whisper. I already know the answer, though.
“Sad,” he finally admits, running a hand through his hair. “She’s really sad, Tristan. It’s bad. She wouldn’t even let me stay.” His gaze drops to the floor, avoiding mine, and the air thickens with unspoken words.
“Did you give her the tea?”
“Yeah.” He shifts his weight, glancing up at me with an expression that mixes sympathy and exasperation. “And I told her it was from you, but it didn’t help. She just… stared at it like it was poison.”
“Dammit,” I mutter, frustration boiling inside me. I can’t shake the feeling that I’m losing her, that every moment I wait to reach out pulls us further apart.
“Listen, man,” Nash says, stepping closer, his voice low. “You need to talk to her. She’s falling apart, and it’s hurting everyone. We need to try everything we can to help snap her out of it. She’s fucking drowning, and all you’re doing is hiding behind your guilt.”
