Beth nods and I watch my mother’s reaction to a girl in my room. She studies us, almost like someone seeing a painting they don’t quite get. There’s no malice in her expression, just curiosity. “I’m leaving the door open.”
“Thanks,” I say and I mean it. Mom’s trying now—not only with me, but with Mark, and I have Chris to thank for it. He called Mark when EMS brought me into the emergency room. Mark and Mom talked for the first time while I was in X-ray. Both are silent about the conversation they had, but they’re speaking again. It’s a start.
Scott leans his head in when Mom leaves
and stares straight at Beth. “Behave.”
She rolls her eyes. “Because the moment
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you leave we’re going to go at it like wild animals. Please.” She motions to her arm.
“Broken bones and bruises are so attractive.”
Scott shakes his head as he follows Mom to the living room and Beth mirrors his movements. Do they have any idea they’re
clones of each other?
Beth sinks onto the bed and turns her head toward me. I don’t like how she looks. Beyond the cuts on her face and head, plus the bruises, she’s too pale and dark circles outline the bottom of her eyes. Wondering if I’m dreaming, I reach over and rub her hair
between my fingers. It’s silky and real. I let the strands fall and meet her gaze. “How are you?”
I hate the way her forehead crinkles and the pain weighing her features. She closes her eyes briefly. “I’m so sorry. It’s my fault he hurt you.”
“Nope, not going to hear it.” I grab Beth’s hand and coax her to lie with me on the bed.
She resists. “But your mom—”
“What’s she going to say? I’m hurt. You’re hurt. We got tired and lay down. I want to hold you so for once in your life can you not fight me?”
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“Wow. Someone’s cranky.”
“Damn right I am.” But the knots twisting my gut begin to unravel when I lie back and Beth wraps her body gingerly around mine.
She’s hesitant, testing areas first to confirm the contact won’t make me sore, and I’m gentle when placing an arm around her so that I don’t jostle her arm.
When we’re settled, I exhale and close my eyes. I’ve dreamed of this for seven days. Who knows, I’m probably dreaming now. If I am, maybe Beth will do something that’s hard for her; maybe she’ll give me answers. “Why did you believe Gwen over me?”
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Beth
I READJUST, SNUGGLING CLOSER to Ryan, but braced for signs that I’ve hurt him. I can hear his heart now and the inhale and exhale of air through his lungs. If I weren’t so damn tired, I could possibly cry. I thought I lost him at my mom’s apartment.
Ryan runs a hand through my hair and I lick my lips, searching for courage. He deserves an answer. If not because he risked his life to save me, then because I love him. “I didn’t trust you.”
His heart beats several times before he
speaks again. “Why?”
Because I was stupid. “I don’t know.…” I
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honest…I don’t get it. Why would someone
like you want to be with someone like me?”
Ryan tips my chin up so that I have to look him in the eye. “Because I love you. Beth— you’re everything I want to be. You’re alive and live without apology. I never would have made love to you if I thought you didn’t trust me…or love me. And I never would have done it if I didn’t trust and love you.”
I lean up on my elbow and my heart is
practically yanked out of my chest by the hurt in his eyes. “I do love you, and I want to trust you.…It’s just that…I try.…And…”
Just damn. I slam my good hand on the bed.
Why can’t I explain it? Why am I so impaired?
“Hey.” The authority in his tone causes me to meet his gaze. My heart stalls when Ryan caresses my cheek with one finger and, under his touch, my skin turns red. I miss this. I’ve missed him. Maybe I’m not fucking this all up.
“Breathe,” he instructs. “It’s okay. Take your time, but just keep talking.”
Keep talking. I actually stick out my tongue in disgust and Ryan fights a smile. If he weren’t so battered already I’d sock his arm. I blow out a rush of air and try again.
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“I don’t know.…I just
don’t…trust…me.” I blink and so does Ryan and it feels sort of scary and exposing to have said something so raw. He rubs my arm, urging me to continue, and I don’t know how to continue. That’s bull. I just don’t want to continue. But this is beyond what I want. This is about me and Ryan.
“I don’t want to make bad choices
anymore.” I glance at him, hoping I’m making sense, because I’m not sure that I am. “And I sort of think that any choice is bad because I’m making it and then I meet you and you’re great and you’re wonderful and you love me and I love you and I’m just so damned scared I’m going to screw it all up.…”