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The moment I walked into this hospital, finding her lying on the bed, so small and broken, I made a promise to myself and to her. Beatrice can push me away all she wants, but I won’t go.
No matter what she counters with, or how much she may think things would be easier with us not together, I’m going to spend the rest of my life proving how wrong she is. She’s so scared to get it wrong again, but I’ll make damn sure she knows that we aren’t.
We’re right.
Two jumbled up, broken pieces, that only work when we’re together.
By the time the officers are finished, leaving a card in Beatrice’s hand to call them if she has any more information, the air is tense in the room. Her mom cries in the corner, her dad holding her tight.
But my attention stays firmly on Beatrice, her eyes lost in the distance.
“Hey.” Keeping my voice low, I tuck her hair behind her ear before guiding her face to mine with two fingers. “You okay?”
“Yes,” she answers too quickly. I raise a brow, tilting my head, and she sighs. “No? I don’t know. I think so, maybe. What’s the right answer?”
“I don’t care about the right answer, Bumblebee. I just wantyouranswer.”
“Then, no, I’m really not.” Her lips quiver, and she heaves in a shuddering breath, but the tears I expect to fall don’t come. She counts under her breath, grounding herself for a minute before she looks up into my eyes, and her own resolve is clear in the green depths. “But I will be. Maybe not today or tomorrow, but one day I will be, and I can’t wait for that day to come.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
Beatrice
Mymomclosesmybedroom door quietly, leaving me alone in silence. My eyes flick to the mirror on my wall, and I take slow steps to it, scrunching them closed when I reach it.
I pull the sweater off my body, taking my undershirt with it. I hold my breath, staying in the darkness for another moment before I peel my eyes open and get a glimpse at the girl staring back at me.
My hair is damp from the rain outside, falling into limp waves over my shoulders. Pushing it back, I finally look at the bruises that mark my skin, taking in each one. After five days in the hospital, they let me go, knowing that physically I will be okay.
Mentally? Well, that’s a whole other healing journey I have to go on.
A knock comes at my bedroom door, and I sigh, shaking my head in amusement as I rush over to it. I don’t throw a t-shirt on. I’m wearing a loose fitted sports bra, and everyone that matters has now seen the scars on my chest, so why hide them anymore?
I open the door, talking before I see who’s on the other side. Maverick only left ten minutes ago, after I practically shooed him out of the house to go home and shower, get some rest so I could have a moment.
“Maverick, I told you—”
“Hi.” Willow shuffles in my doorway, and my eyes widen at the sight of her. Her gaze flickers between me and the stairs behind her, her thumb hiked over her shoulder. “I, erm, your mom said I could come up.”
“Okay . . .”
“I wondered if we could talk?”
Nodding, I step back, letting her pass me as she walks into my bedroom. Her eyes settle on my stomach and the bruises coating the skin, and she closes them, a stuttered breath following.
“Did you want a drink or anything?” I ask, fiddling with my hands. “I can go grab something. Let me just . . .”
“I’m sorry,” she rushes out before I can move, her eyes snapping open to look at me. They’re so like her brother’s, but where I can read every emotion in his, hers are like staring into black holes. “I’m so sorry, Bea.”
“It’s okay,” I whisper. “They’ll fade, it’ll heal.”
She shakes her head, a dry laugh slipping past her lips. “Not the bruises, Bea. Though I am sorry about them.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I’m sorry for everything,” she says, moving to sit on the edge of my bed. She drops her head into her hands, her fingers dragging through her chestnut-brown hair. “Maverick called my mom and dad when he got to the hospital, and I’d never heard my brother so broken. It was like he couldn’t breathe, he fumbled over all his words. He’s loved you for as long as he’s known you.”
Nodding, I move to sit beside her, my fingers tapping over my thighs. That I do know. Even without him telling me the words, it’s easy to look back through all our memories and see the moment that boy fell in love with me.
