Playing with Fire

“It was never about the money.” A warm tear fell from Dad’s face onto my arm. “We never wanted you to pay our way out of this thing. At first, we thought maybe it was your own way to deal with the grief, to quiet the demons. By the time we knew better, it was too late. You were far away, and we didn’t know how to find our way back to you.”

“We were a mess,” Mom interjected. I turned to look at her. She was crying, too. “The period we went through right after Aubrey’s death—”

“You had every right,” I interrupted, my voice thick with emotion.

Don’t cry. Don’t you dare fucking cry.

It had been so long since I’d let myself feel, that I wasn’t sure I could even if I wanted to.

“No. We had no right, Westie. We still had you to think about, to take care of. Instead of considering the consequences, we let ourselves slip into depression.”

“You don’t slip into depression. It grabs you by the foot like Pennywise and drags you down a deep, dark sewer full of shit. Depression is never your fault. So don’t apologize for that.”

I couldn’t hold it any longer. My eyes and nose burned, and a hot tear slid down my cheek. I wiped it with my palm quickly.

“We love you, Westie.” Mom dropped her head, burying it in my shoulder. “We love you so, so much. We never wanted the money. We just wanted to talk to you. We want our son back, and we refuse to get a dime from you from this point forward. When Easton told us what you’ve been doing to help us pay our loans, you know what I did?” she asked.

Quickly disowned your son for being so goddamn stupid?

“I slapped Easton in the face for never telling us. For never warning us. You’ve been risking your life every Friday to help us. Please forgive me for not knowing what you went through in the last five years.” She grabbed my cheeks in her palms. It hurt like hell, but now wasn’t the time to point it out. “I know it’s a lot to ask, but I’m willing to work hard to show you what it means to me.”

Another traitorous tear rolled down my cheek.

I opened my mouth and said the two most liberating words in the English language.

“You’re forgiven.”

Grace

The sun had dipped below the tall trees by the time I parked my pickup at the hospital parking lot, and it was almost completely dark. The traffic was insane, there had been two car accidents on the way, and most of the roads were blocked due to festivals. Each moment away from West sent me into the arms of despair, and I was so sick with worry, all anxiety about Grandma Savvy’s first day at Heartland Gardens had magically disappeared.

West was awake when I got there.

Tess was the first to greet me, throwing her arms over my shoulders. “Grace! I’m so glad you’re here. He just woke up.” I patted her back awkwardly, shell-shocked. There was something weird about being on good terms with her again after everything that went down, but if I’d learned one thing from the moment I met West, it was that even though forgiveness is the underdog in the battle of feelings, it should always win.

Easton and Reign were plopped on a narrow seat outside West’s room, napping in positions that couldn’t be comfortable. Tess took a step back, scanning me. “Easton said he asked about you.”

Exhilaration bubbled in my gut, but I made myself swallow it down.

“Is he in a lot of pain?”

Tess nodded slowly. “I haven’t gone in yet. Didn’t think he’d appreciate seeing my face after everything that happened. But Reign and Easton say he’s looked better. Go. He’s waiting for you.”

I pushed the door open just as his parents were leaving. I recognized his mother immediately. A petite woman with striking, dark features. She wrapped her arms around me in a recharging hug.

“Grace. Thank you for coming to see Westie.”

“Of course.” I rubbed her arm, smiling nervously. “I came as soon as I could.”

“I prayed every night that you two would work things out. I’m glad you did,” Caroline said. I grimaced, because West and I were as far as geographically possible from being worked out.

West let a low groan from the depths of his room. His parents blocked his figure, so I couldn’t see him.

“That’s enough, Mom.”

Caroline did an exaggerated eye roll that made my heart surge, because if she could joke about it, maybe he didn’t look as bad as he sounded.

“Take care of my son.”

She kissed my cheek and left.

Closing the door behind me, I spun to face him. Heat crawled up my neck.

He looked horrible.

His nose was misplaced, his eyes swollen and purple, and it looked like he’d been stitched together five times over, bunched into a West I hardly recognized and was a far cry from the flawless Adonis I’d known.