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“Don’t you have to use the restroom?” she asked, her back still turned to me as she stared into the kitchen sink.
I felt so useless. The feeling was almost suffocating. I wanted to comfort her, to tell her everything would be okay, but I didn’t even know if that was true. I promised I would never lie to her.
After what I’d learned in that phone call, everything could change tomorrow.
I shut my eyes again, forcing my thoughts away from that call. There was no use in letting that consume me yet. Right now, I had to focus on Lark.
And Lark needed a minute for some space.
Reluctantly, I made my way toward the bathroom. The sound of Lark making tea in the kitchen faded as I shut the door.
I caught a glance at myself in the mirror and winced. It was best that Lark hadn’t taken a good look at me, because I looked like crap. Pale with dark circles under my bloodshot eyes. I hadn’t shaved in more than a few days, and you could tell I’d been living off of coffee and not enough water because even my damn skin looked parched.
I didn’t actually have to use the bathroom, but I thought I might as well empty what little was in my bladder while I was here to pass the time. I washed my hands and splashed some water on my face. A bottle of unscented lotion sat on the sink counter, and I put some on my dry face, which felt better than I imagined it would.
The sound of what I thought was the whistle of the tea kettle caught my ear, and I decided I’d wasted enough time and I headed back toward the kitchen.
It was too quiet in the kitchen. The hairs on the back of my neck rose. Two mugs sat out on the counter, wisps of steam curling into the air above them. They were untouched.
I frowned, scanning the space until my eyes locked onto the breakfast nook. Lark was curled up in one of the green, velvety armchairs. Her shoulders were hunched in, her hands moving furiously, her crochet hook gliding through the yarn of what I assumed was one of her crocheted fruit.
I headed straight for her. It wasn’t until I was a few feet away that I noticed the tears on her cheeks. My stomach sank. Her chest shuddered with a sob she desperately tried to force inside. I fell to my knees before her, my heart breaking at the anguish in her expression.
I put my hands on her knees, wanting nothing more than to wrap her up in my arms, but I needed to be careful. I didn’t want to add more stimulation until I was sure she wasn’t going to be even more overwhelmed.
She didn’t acknowledge my touch. Her tear-filled eyes stayed glued to whatever purple vegetable she was crocheting, her hand moving smoothly through the yarn even though she probably couldn’t see well through the tears.
“Lark, honey,” I said softly, my thumbs moving back and forth over her knees in soothing strokes. “Talk to me.”
She shook her head. “I’m—fine.”
The words were barely more than a desperate gasp, and my heart broke.
I let out a slow breath. She was stubborn. Always had been. But I wouldn’t let her do this to herself. I wasn’t going to let her suffer alone. Not anymore.
“Okay.” I kept my voice even and calm. “You don’t have to talk to me, but I’m not leaving. I’m staying right here.”
She paused, her crochet hook halting. Fresh tears fell from her lashes, but she finally looked at me. Her eyes were red and puffy and filled with so much pain. I wished I could take it all away for her. I wished I could bear the burden myself so that she wouldn’t have to.
She searched my face, her eyes darting between mine like she was trying to read my thoughts. I hoped she found what she was looking for because I wanted to give her everything she needed.
“I won’t leave you, Lark. I have your back, remember? I take my promises seriously.” I tried to give her a smile, but it felt flat. Nothing about this was worth grinning about.
Those sweet, sad eyes widened as my words set in. A beat of silence passed, and then she launched herself at me. She wrapped her arms around my neck, burying her face in my chest, clinging to me like I was the only thing keeping her grounded. She knocked the air from my lungs, but my arms automatically encircled her. I sat back on my heels, pulling her onto my lap and holding her against me.
“I’m so sorry,” she sobbed, her voice muffled against my chest.
I shushed her, pressing my lips to the top of her head. “You don’t have to be sorry, sweet butterfly.”
Her body shook with another sob. “It’s all my fault.”
I stiffened. A lick of anger rose up inside me. I remembered what that asshole Jake had said to her. He’d blamed her for what happened. He blamed her for something she had no control over. I definitely should’ve punched him twice.
“Lark.” I attempted to pry her face away from my chest. I wanted to look at her. She resisted, but I eventually won. Her cheeks were red and wet with tears, but I cupped her face in both my hands, looking her directly in the eyes. Her arms were still looped around my neck, making us so close her warm breath fluttered over my skin. “You can’t do that to yourself. Jake Hawthorn is a broken man. There was never any justice for what happened, and he was trying to shift blame to the only thing he could—you. But it wasn’t your fault.”
Her face crumpled as her lips wobbled. “But what if he’s right? What if I’d called the cops right away? What if they could’ve saved them?”
The burn of tears erupted behind my eyes, and I blinked them back. I shook my head. “It wouldn’t’ve made a difference.”
