Real Girl (Aston Creek High 4)

My brows furrow in confusion. “Umm…no? I want to know what the doctor has said.”

“You disappear for two weeks to live with your rapist, there was some kind of showdown where Slade got shot, you got your dumb-ass hitched to a millionaire and then call me with some shit about running away and needing back-up for a shady plan you refused to talk about.”

I cringe and fall back into the seat by his bed, narrowing my eyes at him. “Right…so, you actually wanted to know about all of that?”

“Um…yes. Are you fucking insane? Of course, I need to know.”

I groan and lean back, wondering where the hell to start, “Do you want the long version where I explain exactly how I killed Marcus Mahony and how Maria ended up shooting Lucien, or do you want the short one where I skip over all of that shit.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” he gapes. “You killed him?”

I press my lips into a tight line and nod, looking down at the hands that don’t seem like my own anymore. “Yeah, I did.”

“Shit, Sky,” he whispers, throwing back his blanket and patting the side of his bed beside him. “Come here.”

Relief settles through me as I fly out of my seat and curl in beside my brother. I was so worried he would hate me or be scared of the person I am now, but he accepts me and loves me just the way I am, the way that he’s always done.

I go over my recap of the last two weeks and by the end of it, there are tears in my eyes and a whole lot of emotions that I have no idea how to even understand, but as Blake hugs me tighter and reminds me that no matter what kind of stupid bullshit I get myself involved in he’ll always love me, I feel somewhat at ease.

“You did what you had to do,” he tells me, squeezing my arm. “If you didn’t, we’d spend forever looking over our shoulders and watching our backs. That’s no way to live, Skylah. You’ve opened our world to a better future, one we were never going to get, one you fought for, and for that, I will always be grateful. I don’t care that Lucien’s leg didn’t get crushed and I don’t care that I never got a chance to get revenge, all that matter is that it’s over and that both Marcus and Lucien are now rotting in hell, right where they belong.”

I squish my face into his chest, sniffling as I wipe my tears on his shirt. “I was worried you were going to hate me.”

He scoffs as though I’m ridiculous. “I always knew you were an idiot, but you’re a bigger idiot for thinking I could ever hate you.”

“You mean that?”

“Which part? The idiot part or the hating you part? Because I meant them both.”

I roll my eyes as I feel my world finally starting to right itself. I’m sure it’s going to take a while to forget all the bullshit that has plagued our lives for the past thirteen years but now we finally have a chance to move on. Today is the starting point for the rest of our lives and I couldn’t be happier. We’re finally going to have it all.

“So, were you ever going to tell me what the doctor said?” I ask, needing to think about something else.

Blake shuffles around in his bed and pushes me off him so he can pull the blanket back and show me his leg. “Look at it,” he boasts, proud of how far he’s come. “I get to go home next week, but the pins will stay for a while longer. The doctor thinks I should be able to make a full recovery.”

My eyes widen as I practically scramble to the end of the bed to get a close-up look of his leg. “Are you serious?” I squeal, amazed by his recovery so far. “That’s incredible.”

“Yeah, apart from worrying about you, everything else has been alright here. Though, I still haven’t figured out which of you fuckers told Kathleen that I was in the hospital. She hasn’t left me the fuck alone.”

I think back to the party the night Lucien showed up and I can’t help but feel that it was such a long time ago when in reality, it was only two weeks ago. So much has happened since then. I laugh as I recall the moment. “You can thank Damian and his loud mouth for that. He let it slip at that party.”

Blake shakes his head, pressing his lips into a tight line. “I should have known,” he murmurs. “But speaking of that party, Roman Westbrock is doing alright. He’s a few doors down. His friends are here all the time, loud and obnoxious just as expected, but at least he’s not dead.”