So, I tell him.
I tell him everything.
I tell him what I remember about that Halloween night. I tell him about my stalker staying with me the day after, then driving me to the rehab clinic. I tell him the truth about the fingernails and the note that was with them. The phone calls. About Gemma. About the attack and how it was connected to the guys who assaulted me the first time.
And as I wrap up, I have to lean over and swipe a tear from his eyes. He stayed silent the entire story, and while I’m pretty sure he’s ready to hurt whoever hurt me, he isn’t getting mad that it took this long for me to tell him.
However, he does stand up, and when he wraps his arms around me for a big, Matthews hug, my own tears fall down my face.
“I’m sorry you had to go through that alone,” he whispers. “I’m sorry, Bonnie.”
I pull back and pat his face. “I wasn’t alone. I had you guys. I had the music.”
He gives me a doubtful look, and I shake my head. “Reed, just because I didn’t tell you what I was directly dealing with doesn’t mean you didn’t matter,” I say. “You guys are my family. I love you assholes. I wouldn’t have made it these last five years if I didn’t have you. And what we do together… the touring, the fun, the fucking music? What we do is so fucking healing… I can’t imagine going through life without you.”
Reed gives me a smacking kiss on my forehead and gestures for my hands. “Get up.”
I eye him. “Already?” I ask, knowing what he wants.
“Yep. Already,” he says.
I stand, and he taps a few times on his phone, pulling up a music list we’ve listened to before.
It’s a ritual he and I have done in the past when things felt like too much for me. His solution to move and scream and belt out the lyrics to the emo music we grew up singing along with in our rooms.
The music is nostalgic, cathartic… it’s the pain we went through as teens, the memories that made us who we are—for better or worse. Some, completely fucked up. Still, when we think about these songs… they were a brief moment when the world didn’t feel so fucking cold.
And it’s still true to this day.
It might have been hours that we danced and sang. It might have only been minutes. I don’t know because when you’re with the people you love, time doesn’t seem to be linear anymore.
Yet, as we danced, my mind kept drifting to Gemma, and more than once I envisioned her sitting on the couch laughing at us, and more than once… I think it was the right thing to do when I yelled at my stalker last night.
Once we’ve laughed and belted out lyrics to the point that my throat hurts, we settle back down, and Reed finishes making the toast. I’m squinting at him when he sets three plates on the counter along with syrup.
“Are you taking one home with you?” I ask as he dusts it with powdered sugar.
“Ah…” He chuckles nervously. “Actually, do you mind if Wren comes up?”
“She drove here?”
“She’s actually been napping in the car,” he says.
My eyes widen. “Reed! You made her wait in the car?!”
“I insisted she come up,” he argues. “She’s the one who thought she might interfere, and she knew it was important. Ithink… I think she doesn’t always know how to show it, but she was really worried about you. Like, to the point that she’s texted me five times asking if you’re okay,” he says, waving his phone in front of me.
“Please tell her to come up,” I tell him. “God, she could have slept in the bedroom while we talked.”
He smiles and settles his elbows on the counter. “I don’t know that anyone should touch that bed after all of your stories—”
I smack his arm. “Shut the hell up. Like your place isn’t just as bad.”
“The fucking worst,” he grins.
“Why did she drive you here, anyway?” I ask. “You have that big Rover.”
“You know I’m her passenger princess,” he says with a wink.
