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“There was something wrong, No,” she said, wiping her eyes. “There had to be. Nothing else makes a damn bit of sense.”
“I kept thinking he would get better.”
“So did I,” she whispered, looking down at the bed. “You told me that he shoved you. Youwarnedme.” She lifted her head and her eyes were filled with shame. “When I asked him about it, he acted as if he didn’t know what you were talking about. And I couldn’t—I couldn’t imagine a world where he would lay a hand on you, so I believed him.”
I swallowed hard, looking away.
“None of this is your fault, Nova,” she said. “It’s mine, and this is my penance.”
“Shooting Pop?” I asked, the words torn out of me.
“Living without him,” she clarified. “Maybe if I’d gotten him some help sooner, none of this would’ve happened.”
“Are they going to put you in jail?”
“You don’t worry about that,” she said, attempting and failing to smile at me. “I’ll get it all figured out.”
“They have to know it was self-defense.” I looked down at my bruised and battered body.
“It’ll all come out how it’s supposed to,” she said simply. “Now, your Rumi left to give us some time to ourselves, but he’s been pacing outside the door for almost an hour. Want me to let him in?”
“Are you leaving?” I asked anxiously.
“I’m just going to check on your brother again, alright? I’ll be right across the hall.”
“Okay,” I murmured as she stood up and leaned in to hug me.
“I love you,” she whispered into my hair. “So much I can barely contain it.”
“I love you, too,” I replied, the familiar words comforting me as I held on to her.
“We’re gonna get through this, baby,” she said, kissing my head. “You’ll see.”
“I miss him already,” I confessed.
“I’ve been missing him for months,” she replied.
Seconds after she’d left, Rumi came striding back into the room, the largest bouquet of flowers I’d ever seen in his arms.
“Did you rob a florist?” I asked in surprise as he set them down on the counter.
“I had some time to kill after Ash kicked me out,” he said sheepishly, coming to my side. “How you feelin’?”
“My head hurts.”
“I bet it does.”
“Everything hurts, actually.”
“I bet it does,” he repeated.
“Hey, Rum,” I murmured as he gently ran his finger down my cheek.
“What’s up, sugar?”
“I need you to call the police.”
“What the hell for?”
