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No sooner had Dad and I gotten to the hospital than Aunt Emmie and Aunt Layla had shown up. They were there even before Mom was, so I knew Dad must have called Aunt Emmie on his way to pick me up from school.
Dad had an aversion to blood and gore. As in, he would puke the second he saw it. But he’d never seemed bothered whenever he’d had to patch me or Mason up over the years. Still, Aunt Emmie was there to help out in case he did need backup until Mom arrived.
Luca’s mom took one look at me and wrapped her arms around me. “Oh, honey,” she cried as she touched my chin. “You’ve had a hell of a time, huh?”
I hugged her back, but having the woman there who I’d always thought would one day be my mother-in-law, when that wasn’t ever going to happen after what her son did, tried to knock through my blissful numbness. Thankfully, things moved quickly once I was put in a private exam room after Aunt Emmie spoke to the nurses. Otherwise, the entire emergency department of the hospital would have been flooded with paps the second they got word that Dad was in the ER with me.
The doctor and his nurse were just setting up everything to do the stitches on the inside of my mouth when Mom and Aunt Dallas arrived. Before Mom would even let the doctor touch me with a needle, she asked Aunt Dallas to examine my wound.
She’d seen it Saturday morning and said I didn’t need stitches at the time, but I’d been reopening it over and over again all weekend and could tell it had torn more each time. Her blue eyes turned stormy when she saw just how much worse it had gotten.
“It’s bad, Harp,” she said then stepped back. Hands clenching at her sides, she quickly excused herself, and for the first time, I worried about Cannon’s well-being. But he was at military school, so maybe she wouldn’t actually kill her son.
I got four stitches and was told I could only have extremely soft food for the next week. By the time I got home, the numbing had begun to fade, and my mouth was one big ache.
“Go to bed, sweetheart,” Mom said as we walked into the house. “Try to get some rest. You look like you need it.”
I started up the stairs just as the doorbell rang. Mom opened it, and I paused to see who had dropped by. Seeing Lyric standing there, I felt my knees go weak. Exhaustion was pushing down on me, and I realized just how many hours I’d been awake.
“Hey, Ric,” Mom greeted.
“How is she?” he asked, then he saw me on the stairs. His brown eyes scanned over me. “Mom called me and said you had to get stitches. I skipped my afternoon class to come check on you.”
I swallowed hard, wondering if Luca had sent him to check on me or if he’d come on his own.
“She was just on her way up to take a nap,” Mom said as she waved him into the house. “Come in. Are you hungry? Thirsty?”
“No thanks, Aunt Harper.” He gave her a tight smile. “If you don’t mind, I’m just going to talk to Vi for a minute, and then I’ll let her get some rest.”
“Technically, she’s grounded,” she sighed, then glanced at me. “But I don’t see any harm in you reassuring yourself—and I’m sure your brother, as well—that she’s okay.”
“Thank you.” Lyric kissed her cheek then started up the stairs toward me.
I tried to tell him with my eyes I didn’t want to talk, but he just nudged me. In my room, I shut the door behind us then went into my bathroom to grab some ibuprofen for the pain in my mouth. I also changed into my pajamas that were hanging on the back of the bathroom door with my robe.
When I came out, Lyric was standing by the window, frowning out at the ocean.
“I was already on my way to see you when Luca called,” he said in a quiet voice when I sat down on the edge of my bed. Turning, he crossed his arms over his massive chest and studied me for a long moment. “Mom didn’t mention anything about you and Luca, so I’m assuming you haven’t told anyone about the breakup.”
“Just Shaw.” He didn’t need to know I’d told Remington too.
“Is that what you want? Not to tell the parentals yet?” I shrugged and he grimaced. “I need to know, Vi. I’m following your lead on this, and I don’t want to say anything that you aren’t ready to deal with.”
I rubbed at the throb in the middle of my forehead. “I don’t know what I want to do. I’m not ready to talk to anyone about this, especially not my parents or yours. Can’t we just…let it go until he comes home for Thanksgiving?”
“Yeah, we can do whatever you want. I’ll tell Luca and make sure he keeps his mouth shut to Mom and Dad.” He crossed to me and crouched down in front of me. Gently, he touched his thumb to my chin and tipped it up. “You’re a fucking warrior, Violet. You’ve been to hell and back in just a few days. You’re not screaming or crying or threatening anyone with dismemberment. You’re so strong and so grown-up.” He dropped his head. “But it’s okay to scream and cry. It’s even okay to want to cut off Luca’s dick. Or Cannon’s. I’ll help you with either of those if you want to.”
“What will that change?” I asked him, feeling dead inside. “How will hurting them make me feel better? Crying and screaming will only give me more of a headache. I’m not five, Lyric. Throwing a tantrum because my future isn’t going to be what I always envisioned won’t miraculously make it happen.”
“It’s not healthy to keep it all bottled up inside, though,” he argued. “It’s going to keep building up, and eventually, you’re going to explode.”
“Yeah,” I agreed. “Probably.”
But there was nothing I could do about it. Nothing I wanted to do about it either. For the moment, I was blissfully numb to the pain of what Luca had done to us. The pain I’d felt when I realized he’d had sex with Megan? That was a million times worse than what he’d done on his eighteenth birthday. It was debilitating, and I’d shut down to protect myself.
In health class, we’d covered psychology for a few chapters. Part of the material discussed the five stages of grief and loss. I’d always assumed it was for those who had to face the death of a loved one. But that was exactly what this was. I’d lost the guy I loved and, with it, the loss of the life I’d always dreamed of having with him.
What I was feeling was plain and simple denial. If I refused to allow myself to feel anything, I didn’t have to face the fact that everything was fucked up. If I didn’t think about Luca or the future that would never be, took this one day at a time, I could get to Thanksgiving and face him again.
