That was another issue. Part of me wants so badly to know what happened. But a larger, more selfish part of me doesn’t want to know because I don’t think I could stomach the story of what happened to her and Riley without breaking down again, or tearing the world apart brick by brick.
So here I sit in the corner of Collins’ room in time-out, watching as Ayla paints her toes an electric pink color, while Collins focuses on painting her own freshly trimmed nails a pearlescent shade, as a form of therapy to work on her grip again. Ayla had brought all the supplies a few days ago, but Collins didn’t get past painting her pinkie before exhaustion took over and she fell asleep.
The two of them now sit and talk and chatter about anything and nothing all at once.
Asher and Blair left with Bear to meet with Cortland about hiring a new band manager. B might be new to the band, but I trust his and Bear’s judgement infinitely more than I ever trusted Tony or Steve. While it is important for me to be there to meet the prospects, not a goddamned thing is more important than Collins and Riley right now.Or ever.
Nope, I’m keeping my happy ass planted right here in this very chair until Collins decides to forgive me.
Collins finishes painting her nails and holds them up. Her hands are slightly shaky, but she admires her handiwork while Ayla fans her toes dry.
“Can I see how they turned out, Stardust?” I ask, hoping she’s at least a little less pissed at me for lying to her about seeing Riley yesterday.
“That depends. Can I see Riley?” she snaps back, her beautiful face practically glowing with sass and contempt.So that’s a no.
As much as I want to pout, I can’t help but marvel at my girl from across the room. Her voice is slowly coming back, but she sounds ten times more rough and raspy than before. I dont care, though, so long as she’s speaking to me at all. The swelling of her eye has gone down, too, and the bruises have started to fade. The cut on her lip has scabbed over well enough that it doesn’t make her wince when she speaks, and truly she’s never looked more beautiful than she does right now. Her eyes are so full of emotion and fire, and some color has returned to her cheeks.
I love her fire. I love how she calls me out on my shit. I just loveher.
I do feel bad about not being truthful when it comes to when I’d take her to see Riley, and I owe her an apology for causing that kind of hurt.
Before I can open my mouth to say a word, Ayla stands from the bed and collects the polish in a tiny bag before hugging Collins and turning to me. My girl lowers the head of the bed and turns her back to me as she lays down, facing away from me.
Still not forgiven, then.
“Can I talk to you for a sec?” Ayla murmurs as she passes me on her way to the door.
I nod and follow, shooting a text to my dad to bring some necessities to Collins’ room before I take her to see Riley. I pocket my cell, casting a look at Collins from across the room before exiting the room. Once in the hallway, Ayla turns and trains her dark, furious eyes on me.
“Why the fuck did you do it, Creed?” she whisper-shouts at me, and I rear back.
“I’m sorry, why did I dowhat?” I cross my arms over my chest, playing dumb. I know exactly what I did, but I’m not in the mood to play nice with anyone who isn’t my girl right now.
“You know exactly what,” she hisses, not buying into my bullshit. She smacks me in the arm with her little nail polish bag, her eyes widening at me like I’ve lost my mind. “You don’t have a goddamned clue what that girl went through. None of us do. But what we do know, is that she was fucking traumatized by watching one of the men she loves nearly die right before her eyes. More than once.”
I narrow my eyes at her. “How do you know that?”
Her shoulders deflate a little as she looks away, crossing her arms over her chest. “It’s one of the few things she actually talks about with anyone. It’s like that’s all that mattered to her. Riley’s safety, I mean. Always so criminally selfless. That girl is now bonded to Riley in ways that we can’t even begin to imagine. She loves him. She’s worried sick about him. She’s fucking terrified that he’ll be taken away from her again at any given moment.” She looks back to me, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.
“Can you imagine being kept from the person you love when you’re so desperate to see them again?”
She’s fucking joking, right?
“Yes!”I bark at her, and she jumps, startled by my outburst. “Every goddamned day for two fucking weeks I felt that pain, Ayla. Every. Single. Day. I didn’t have a fucking heart to beat in my chest until I laid eyes on them again with the accompanying knowledge that they’re alive—hearts still beating within their chests.”
I spin away, running my hands through my hair before turning on my heel to pin her with a glare again. “And before that, you saw how I was out of my goddamned mind fortwo years. Two. Fucking. Yearsbefore I found her again. So yes, Ayla,Icanimagine.”
The woman before me squares her shoulders and manages to look down her nose at me despite being several inches shorter. “Then why lie to Collins?”
“I didn’t fucking lie to her.”Lie.The bitterness of the word coats my tongue, but I plow on. “I hoped I could take her to see him yesterday, but I didn’t want to trigger another episode by seeing him looking like a fucking corpse in the hospital bed two doors down. Not to mention they kept him in isolation until about an hour ago, so they wouldn't have let her in anyway.”
I swipe a hand through my hair, tugging at the roots. “I know I should’ve been honest with her when I knew she couldn’t see him, but have you ever tried to tell Collins bad news?”
Ayla ponders that for a minute before biting her lip and shaking her head.
“That’s right, you don’t,” I deadpan. “I can’t stand to see the look of hurt on her face when I have to tell her bad news. I know it fucking backfired on me and I have to go make it up to her.”
“How?”
