“Always,” I managed to rasp. He laughed, flicking my ribs. I let out a curse.
“Where are your boundaries? I just broke the bastards.”
“That’s for sleeping with my girl.”
“In that case.” I swiveled toward him, grabbed his wrist and twisted it until it almost broke. Reign let out a cry. “That’s for calling my girl names.”
We were acting like twelve-year-olds, but if there was a time to act this way—it was now, when I could blame the painkillers.
“For the last time, St. Claire, she is not your girl anymore.”
“We’ll see about that.”
My eyes drifted to Easton. I didn’t have to spill it for him. He knew damn well what I was asking.
Where is she?
Was she coming for me?
Did she know what I’d done?
Why I’d done it?
East’s throat bobbed. He looked away, busying himself by removing snacks he brought for me from a plastic bag and putting them on my nightstand.
“We’re trying to reach her. I’m sure she’ll pick up soon.”
“Yeah,” Reign added in a cheerful tone. “It’s the weekend. People are not exactly sitting around staring at their phones.”
“She’s going to come.” Easton patted my hand.
“On your face. Many times. You’ll see. Chicks love it when you take a punch for them. You almost died for her,” Reign pointed out. “That’s worth at least a couple blowjobs, right?”
I closed my eyes, falling asleep, wishing I’d never wake up.
West
The next time I woke up it was late evening.
My parents were in the room, their silhouettes wrapped together, engulfed by the darkness. They stood by the window, embracing each other, exactly as I saw them on the snow the morning Aubrey had died.
The familiar lump in my throat thickened. For a moment, I was tempted to pretend I was still asleep. But if Grace Shaw taught me one thing about this world, it was that running away from your issues was a bad idea, and it always came back, biting you in the ass.
I righted myself on the hospital bed, making a show of clearing my throat.
They turned around simultaneously. Mom didn’t gasp or cry. Her eyes traced my face like fingers, touching me softly. Dad—who looked a decade older than he had the last time I saw him almost five years ago—flinched, like he was the one who’d taken Appleton’s blows.
“Son.”
One word, and it sounded like it came from the bottom of the ocean, echoing everywhere in my body.
My parents looked worn-out—and had lost about twenty pounds between them. I barely recognized them, and yet I recognized that I was a huge part of why they were the way they were.
Dad was the first to rush toward me. He leaned over the hospital bed, his whole body brushing mine, giving me the gentlest, least touchy hug I’d ever received. We hadn’t hugged in half a decade.
“You can go ham, Pops. It’s your one and only chance at a hug I can’t escape,” I muttered. I felt his warm body quaking against mine as he tightened his grip. He was laughing and crying at the same time. When he stood up and stepped away, it was Mom’s turn.
I ran my eyes over both of them, flashing them a crooked grin.
“Got all worried when I didn’t send money this week, huh?”
It was so shitty and yet so classic me to say something like that. Neither of them winced or apologized. Mom’s eyes were hard on mine. Something had changed since the last time she saw me. I saw in her expression more of the mom she was before Aubrey died. Determination lit her eyes, coupled with a promise to give me hell if I misbehaved.
“We’re here to tell you we’re not going to let you kill yourself over what happened to Aubrey. We get that you are upset. We are upset, too. We’ll always be upset. We’ve lost our darling girl. But by God, West Camden St. Claire, we are not going to lose another child. Not to grief. Not to guilt. Not to anything. Ever again. You will outlive us, and you are going to goddamn enjoy it.”
Her spine straightened, and she looked me in the eye with a ferocity that gave me fucking chills.
“I hate myself.” The admission fell from my lips with a croak. “A whole fucking lot. And I don’t see how you don’t.”
“It is not your fault.” Dad took my hand. I looked away. The possibility of crying was getting too real to risk eye contact. “Even if it was—we’d still love you, still forgive you. Could you have done things differently? Yes. But you didn’t. You did not commit a crime, West. The consequences of your bad decisions just happened to be exceptionally tragic.”
“I broke my promise to Aub.”
“We all break our promises sometimes.” Mom took my other hand, and now I had nowhere to look, because my parents were everywhere. I could no longer avoid them. Ghost them. Dodge them. Pretend I could silence them with a check.