A Brand New Ending

Chapter 50

Braeden



Work and school on the same day f*cking sucks. An entire day without Phoenix was torture. I couldn't concentrate at all and most of my work at the hospital was lacking. Even being here is tough; there are memories of her everywhere. Every corner of the hospital seems to have a little piece of her there. But I hate myself for missing those moments. I need to keep thanking god she isn't still here. That she's not the broken girl that he created anymore. I pull out my phone and check it, for the thousandth time in the past hour, wanting to hear her voice, needing to know how her first day alone is.

"You're going to break that damn thing," I hear a voice over my shoulder.

"I wish that she would just call me," I snap back.

"She's busy, man," he says. "Don't you remember how stressful your first day was here?" Donovan asks.

We both laugh a little, my first day on the job was nothing less than disastrous.

"Now just think how she feels," he says softly.

"She must be f*cking mortified," I say softly, running my hands through my hair.

An idea pops into my mind, making me smile. "I'm gonna take my lunch," I say as I bolt out the back door and hop on my bike.

~

When I get back to work my nervousness only increases, now my mind wants to know what she'll think of her gift. When I saw the look on her face in front of the art shop I could see the love in her eyes. I could definitely tell her past was trying to claw its way out. Sometimes I wish she would open up more. I want to hear more about the good in her life. I love watching her tell me about the times with her father. She's always her most happiest at those moments. The minute hand on the clock on the wall moves at an insanely sluggish pace. My patience for being here is wearing thin. Once it hits 6:59am I dart out the back entrance, hop on my bike again and pedal back to my father's house. When I reach the front door I put my key in and push it open, a loud buzzing reaching my ears.

Stumbling into the kitchen I reach the key pad, my brain not functioning as well as it should, exhausted from my ride over here. Fumbling with it I hear the beeping becoming more consistent, knowing my thirty seconds is running thin. After my third attempt, it stops. Shutting the door on the pad I bound out of the kitchen and up the stairs, wanting to see my baby girl more than anything else in the f*cking world.

When I reach her door I can smell the fumes from the paint, a wide grin coming across my face. Pushing the door open slowly I instantly find her form curled up in itself, her eyes closed. I walk over slowly, my vision in a tunnel, as it always is whenever she is around. I stare down at her angelic state, I reach out and brush the soft flesh of her cheek, making her stir gently but not awaken. Just when I thought I couldn't love her more, my heart literally soars at the simple sight of her. Lifting my eyes from her I look up at the wall, the painting staring back at me weakens my knees. Moving around the span of the bed, I walk over to it, my eyes going over every line of the painting. It's absolutely breathtaking.

"I hope you like it," her soft voice fills the room.

I can't even look back at her, my eyes glued to this amazing piece of artwork.

"You painted this?" I ask.

"Yes," she says, her voice nervous.

I finally peel my eyes away from it and they fall upon her again. She slides herself off the bed, the dark circles underneath her eyes again, a sign she was up all night. She walks over and wraps her arms around me and I lean down, placing a kiss on top her head.

"Thank you," she announces.

"For what?"

"For the art supplies," she says shyly.

"You don't have to thank me, Seraph."

"You're too good to me," I hear her mutter.

Pulling her body away from mine, I look into her eyes, small flecks of paint surrounding them.

"You deserve more than I could ever give you, Phoenix, but I will try my hardest to give you the world."

"Braeden, you give me everything just by being here. I wouldn't be able to stand if it wasn't for your faith in me."

I can tell that she is starting to get choked up, so I just pull her back into me, both our eyes back on the painting.

"So, what made you want to paint an angel?" I ask.

"It's not just any angel." She laughs. "It's a seraphim angel."

I look down at her confused. She just shakes her head and smiles.

"A seraphim angel has six wings instead of two."

I look back up at it and count the wings. Six. I notice a single word written in the feathers of each wing.

Nelson, Sophia, Thomas, Neil, Braeden and Phoenix.

I look back down at her, a wide smile on her face.

"What's with the names?" I ask.

She looks back up at the painting.

"They're my family." She smiles. "The wind beneath my wings."

At that moment I want to drop to the floor, begging her to be mine forever. But I knew that she would be, whether I asked or not.

"Thank you," I hear her utter. "Thank you for being my savior."