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“But what if I can’t forgive myself for not doing it?”
“That’s where we come in,” Beatrice’s mom says. Her hair, so like her daughters, lays limp over one shoulder, and her expression is soft, but full of devastation. “Sebastian Marks will never lay a hand on my daughter ever again. I’ll kill him myself if I have to.”
“Hazel.” Her husband sighs, letting me free to go and comfort his wife.
“No, you are right, Lucas,” she tells him. “We messed up so bad. But I won’t do it again. My little girl will live. She will experience all the good life has to offer her, that I’ll make sure of, if it’s the last thing I ever do. And you”—she turns to me, her eyes softening—“you hold on to her—even on the days when she makes it hard, because she will—you hold on tight, and you don’t let go. You love her, and you show my baby the world, but bring her home every now and then, just to say hello.”
I nod. That’s one promise I can make.
I will give my girl a lifetime. A lifetime of happiness and laughter. A lifetime of living. I don’t care if I have to follow her into the pits of darkness and drag her back every single time. I will. When she breaks, I’ll pick up her pieces and hold them back together until she’s strong enough to do it herself. Beatrice Fletcher will live, just as she told me she wanted all those months ago.
Beatrice
A light flickers, jolting me awake as it grows brighter, penetrating the darkness.
My eyes peel open, and I blink a few times against the wash of sunlight that assaults my vision. My fingers tingle and my legs quiver as I pull myself up, wincing when a sharp pain shoots through my stomach. Holding myself still, I wait for it to pass before moving my eyes over the room.
A sleeping body catches my gaze, and my breath stutters. Maverick’s chest rises and falls softly, his hand clenched tightly to my leg. Black bags linger under his eyes, and his jaw is dotted with stubble. His clothes are wrinkled, but his usual attire of joggers and a Bears sweater is a welcome sight.
It’s only been a few weeks since I’ve seen him, but my heart settles in my chest and a wave of relief floods through me as I take him in.
“He hasn’t left your side.” I turn to my mom, her eyes focused on Maverick as he snores softly, his hand never leaving me. “He’s a good one.”
“Yeah, he is,” I breathe, my throat burning with my speech as my eyes find him again.
“I owe you an apology, Beatrice,” Mom says, her voice cracking. She drops down to my bedside and I turn to face her, my head aching with the quick movement. “For so many things.”
I shake my head, my emotions rushing to the surface. “Mom, you don’t—”
“Yes, I do,” she says, grabbing my hand. “I should have stopped you from seeing Sebastian that very first day you told us about him. You were so young, and as your mom, I should have stepped in. I, uh.” She stumbles over her words, shaking her head. “You know I met your dad at fourteen, right? But did you know my parents hated him?”
“They did?” I whisper, her words surprise me. That I know of, my nan and grandad love my dad.
“They did. They told me that we were too young to know what love was,” she says. “And I was determined to prove them wrong. I put my own experiences onto you, and I think I was so afraid of pushing you away like they did me. It was only after we had you, when you were about two, that they realized they were missing out on their grandchild and finally started to accept that I wasn’t leaving your dad. But it wasn’t until we’d been married for ten years that they finally agreed I made a good choice.”
“Mom—”
“I didn’t want to be my parents, and in doing so, I failed you.” She closes her eyes, shielding me from the tears that gather there. “Now, looking back, I know why your nan and grandad were so hesitant, and I am so sorry that I wasn’t more so.”
“It’s okay, Mom. You could have never known.”
“I should have. You’re my daughter, and I could feel you disappearing and I did nothing. It was just you and me a lot of the time, when your dad was on tour, and I buried my head in the sand because it was easier. But I won’t make that same mistake in the future. That boy will never hurt you again, you have my word on that, Beatrice. I want you to feel safe, and I want you to live your life and be happy.”
“What if I can’t?” I mutter, glancing at the bed sheets as my hands twist in them. My ribs hurt, and my throat is raw. Emotion clogs inside of me, the familiar waves of despair lingering in the distance. “I’m so broken. I have been for so long. What if I can’t fix those pieces, Mom?”
She pulls in a shuddering breath, taking my hand in hers and squeezing tight. “You don’t need to fix them to live your life. You’re the strongest person I have ever met. You will walk in the sun, and you will feel the warmth on your skin, and you will smile again. You will find your happiness, Beatrice. I promise you. It will get better.”
I nod, asking her to leave then as I need a moment to process everything. She presses a gentle kiss to my head, and a tear falls into my hair. “Right, I’ll go and find your dad, then. He went to get coffee, but you know how geographically challenged he is. He’s probably gotten lost a thousand times.”
“Okay.”
Squeezing my hand once more, she pulls away, her lips set as she blinks a few times, pushing away the remaining tears in her eyes. “I love you.”
She reaches the door, her hand pressing down on the handle but before she can leave, my mouth opens. “I love you too, Mom.”
She gasps, her eyes watering as my words soak in.
For two years, I haven’t said those three words. Not to anyone. So afraid of what they mean. But when the brightest smile splits at my mom’s lips, I regret that. I should have told her; I should have told her every day.
