Page 103 of It Should Have Been You

“I’m sorry,” she repeats like a prayer.

I’ve lost her.

A punch to the gut would be easier to deal with.

“Beth,” I shout, trying my best to knock her out of her trance. “Bethany Rose.”

Her eyes finally snap to mine. She’s trembling everywhere. I swear her lips have turned blue.

“Look at me,” I plead, my heart bleeding out with hers.

“You should go.”

“What?”

“Please go, Logan.” A heavy tear falls from the corner of her eye. “I need you to go. Please go.”

When I don’t move, she shoves at my chest. “Just fucking go.” A sob rips from her throat.

Is this what she needs?

Why don’t I know what to do?

But I’m already taking backward steps, my eyes never leaving her. She doesn’t even register that I’m still close when she falls to her knees again, trembling hands attempting to clean the glass.

Fuck this.

I’m not leaving her.

She can fight me about it tomorrow.

Cursing under my breath, I wrap my arms around her waist. When I pick her up from the floor, she locks onto my body with a guttural cry.

“I’m sorry.”

“Oh, baby, don’t be sorry. It was an accident, you hear me? It was just an accident.” I try to sooth her as I carry her inside.

Setting her on the counter I inspect her body for any wounds but thankfully, the small cuts on her palms are superficial.

Coming back to reality, her head falls into her hands.

Carefully, I remove them. She doesn’t need to hide from me.

“It was an accident,” I repeat, drying her tears with my palms. “An accident that was my fault. It’s just glass. It can be cleaned.” Bewildered and crying with an agony I’ve never heard before, I press a kiss to her palms. “You’re safe here. The girls are sleeping upstairs. They’re safe. I promiseyouare safe.” I repeat those words until it finally soaks in. Her breathing calms, but the silent cries are only proof of how well her mask fits.

Her fingers curl into my chest, pulling at my T-shirt. I think a part of her is trying to convince herself she’s not back there.

I press my hands to her shoulders to gather heat to her trembling body before tracing my fingers along her neck and finally cupping her face. When she doesn’t flinch, I release a slow breath.

“What do you need?”

Eyes filled with tears slowly lift as her hand comes up to cover mine. With a fractured exhale, she leans into my touch.

“This,” she whispers.

I think she needs to know another’s touch won’t hurt her.

When I finally wrap my arms around her body and hold her close, she breaks.

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