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I just blamed him for an entire country’s fault.
And now he was gone when she needed him most. She’d pushed him away.
She let out a guttural scream and began to sob until no sound came out. She pounded her fists into the mattress. Her lungs depressed, locking in place, burning. She couldn’t breathe. The edges of her vision darkened.
The bed dipped and a cold, hard body melded against hers as two strong arms held her.
“Shhh. It’s okay. Just breathe. In one, two, three, four. Now out, one, two, three, four. Five things you can see. Name them,” Bently’s voice commanded gently.
“Window. Wall. Hand. Bed. Blanket.”
“Five things you can feel.”
She listed off sensations as he guided her back from her panic attack. He held her while she calmed down, the emotional strain overwhelming her with exhaustion. Her heavy eyelids drooped closed.
“I’m here. Sleep, Angel. I’m not going anywhere. Not when you need me.”
Her heart beat for what felt like the first time since she’d seen her brother’s body. But just once. A flicker and then it was gone.
Bently’s voice rumbled in his chest. “I can’t leave you like this. Give me your hurt. Give me your anger. Cast it all on me. I can take it. I can be strong for the both of us for now. Hate me, but let me love you.”
Chapter 47
Belle
Belle pushed the eggs around on her plate. More food she wouldn’t be able to stomach. Her appetite was as absent as her brother.
Bently’s pacing was the only sound in the otherwise silent room. The worry in his eyes was always aimed at her. He hadn’t left her side in days—making calls, taking care of the funeral arrangements.
Her inhale was shallow, her chest aching too much to take in a full breath. Her eyes felt like sandpaper. And her muscles ached from all the tensing she’d done while she sobbed into TJ’s mattress night after night. She had no energy left. She was depleted of everything. Her life had been snuffed out along with her brother’s. Her reason for fighting through the pain was gone. What was she doing here?
Why bother if life is more painful than death? Why not just lie down and never get up again?
She was exhausted from fighting to see another day. Everything she’d ever done was for TJ to have a better life. So she’d not repeat the mistakes her mother had made. And what good had it done her? TJ was dead.
The floor creaked under Bently’s weight as he set a cup of tea in front of her. He’d been careful to keep his distance, only touching her when he absolutely had to. Like when I need to shower. Or when I cry so hard I can’t breathe. Or when the panic attacks come.
He’s my lighthouse in the storm. My gravity. And I fucked it up.
Was he here out of obligation now?
She glanced at him from the corner of her eye. His shoulders sagged, as if he carried the weight of the universe on them. Overgrown stubble was now more of a short beard on his jaw. He ran a hand through his messy and unkempt hair. The dark rings under his bloodshot eyes would have caused her heart to ache, if she was capable of feeling anything anymore but grief. She was paralyzed with it. Disbelief that TJ was actually gone switched to anger, and then hopelessness. A constant erratic cycle that consumed her. Sucking her into this dark pit of despair. It was as if she was being buried alive. There was no light here. No oxygen. No hope.
But he was here with her through it all. She’d screamed at him. She’d blamed him. She’d pushed him away. But he’d stayed.
Her gaze met his as he sat across from her at the table.
“How about some soup?”
She shook her head. She’d just throw it up anyways. There was no point.
“You gotta eat something. He wouldn’t want this.” Bently’s voice was gentle and true. A compass in the desert. A guiding light in the darkness.
“I can’t.”
“What about the tea?” He motioned to the mug.
Her stomach rolled. Her mouth was parched, but it didn’t feel right. She couldn’t go on without TJ. He was more than her brother. He was like her child. She’d lost him.
