The thought makes my hands clammy and the rhythm of my heart picks up.
I knew that I wouldn’t be able to hide the truth from her forever, but still. The fact she got to hear it from someone else and not me breaks my heart. I know I wouldn’t have been able to tell her anyway, but still. It was my truth to tell.
I’m still thinking about it when Heath’s name pops up on the screen. He’s calling me.
I decline the call in panic.
Is he out of the cell?
At once worry clings to me and I want nothing more than to talk to him, but it’s late at night and it’s so quiet in the house after the disaster that unfolded a few hours ago.
Mom and Dadhad a huge fight and it ended with him smashing a beer bottle against the wall. He didn’t hurt mom but he yelled at her. I was the centre of their conversation as Mom took my side but Dad wasn’t having it. So he did the one thing he knows the best. He terrorised her and it worked. She stopped talking and the topic was pushed under the rug like it wasn’t even there in the first place.
Mom and Dad returned to their room and a while later I could hear noises that made me sick to my stomach. I can’t believe she let him touch him let alone sleep with her.
Gosh! Just thinking about it makes me want to puke.
Heath:Pick up my call. I want to talk to you.
I seehis text and switch off my screen.
Curled up on my side so I’m facing the window, I look out at the night sky that looks breathtaking with shimmering stars. I like seeing them.
My phone buzzes again and I flip it over and see another text.
Heath:I know you’re reading my texts. Say something, please.
What amI even supposed to say to him? Because of me he went to jail and has a record now. I got him into mess. I’m nothing but trouble to him.
It hurts. It hurts a lot. Because I don’t want to be that person to him. I want to be his safe place like he is mine. But I’m not. I’m the storm that wreaks havoc in his life.
Another text pops up.
Heath:Rose, talk to me.
Rose.He has a nickname for me.That wasn’t supposed to happen. He wasn’t supposed to give me a nickname—a nickname that gives me butterflies. Every. Single. Time.
Heath:Fine! You don’t need to reply. Just keep reading my texts okay.
I hold my phone tighter.
Why is this guy so good to me? He doesn’t have to be and he isn’t with the majority of the world, but he is to me. He’s thesweetestto me.
Heath: I hope you’re okay.
Heath: Why the fuck am I saying it? Of course you’re not fucking okay. You must be hurt.
Heath: I’m so sorry that you got hurt because of me.
Heath: I don’t want you to get hurt because of me.
Heath: Like ever.
Heath: So I’m sorry that you’re hurt.
Heath: Are you crying? Please tell me you’re not crying. You know I hate it when you cry.
Heath: You look awful when you cry.
