We laughed briefly before sobering. At this point there was nothing I could do to distract myself any longer, and as dark thoughts washed over me, I tried to stop a small sob from escaping.
“It’s going to be okay,” Riley said, placing her hand on my shoulder.
I shook my head. “Whether that’s true or not, it’s already so fucked up that I have no idea how to move forward from it.”
“Is this the Dylan-and-baby thing?” she asked, relaxing back.
My first instinct was to shake my head, but that wasn’t completely true. “It is partly that. Our last conversation didn’t go very well.”
“He’s not the best communicator,” Riley admitted, and it was such an understatement a snort choked out through my sobs.
“It’s not just Dylan,” I admitted. “When I ran from the camp, this really wonderful human helped me. Ruth.” I didn’t even know her last name, for fuck’s sake. “She was killed by those guys who attacked us. It was my fault, and as much as I’m trying not to dwell on it, because I need to stay calm for my baby,” my voice dropped to a whisper, “I’m drowning in guilt.”
Guilt and pain. Ruth had fought her whole life, and she was tough, amazing, and the strongest person I’d met in a long time. She didn’t deserve her fate. “How the fuck do I live with being the reason a woman died?”
Riley took my hand, but no reassuring words emerged from her. She just held on, and I started to cry because I got why. Nothing she could say would make this better, and I would just have to work through it myself.
“My adoptive parents died because of me,” Riley said, startling me. Her voice was low, tinged with the sort of anger and pain I felt deep inside. “It took me many years and a fuckload of therapy, but I have reached the point where I no longer blame myself. I didn’t kill them. I didn’t do anything wrong. And I reassure myself with the reminder that at least they can no longer be hurt by the evil in the world.”
At this point tears were silently trailing along my cheeks and my body was exhausted.
“You can just mourn her for the wonderful person she was, Brooke,” Riley said. “She wouldn’t blame you for something that wasn’t your fault.”
I swallowed hard. “I think it’s going to take me a lot of years to come to terms with my guilt, but I sure as fuck have no issue with laying the blame directly where it deserves to be. Fucking Blake.”
Riley was about to answer, when a figure appeared in the doorway. Her gun was in her hand in a flash, the softness she’d displayed not a minute ago vanishing. Now she was a hardcore killer who would shoot dead any motherfucker about to threaten us.
Thankfully it was only Ben, hands in the air. "Sorry, ladies. I should have knocked and announced myself."
Riley growled at him, her gun disappearing just as quickly as it’d appeared. "Damn right, Ben. You're just lucky it's not Beck in here."
He paled, and it was clear that Beck had a rep. A well-deserved rep.
Ben strolled closer, his eyes soft as they looked down at me. "How are you feeling, B?"
"What are you even doing here?" Riley interrupted him.
Ben snapped to attention, and here was the man who had enough killer instinct to make it as a guide at the camp. "Dylan asked me to step in for a few hours to help guard while he's off hunting Brooklyn’s asshole of a brother."
I didn't even bother to argue. I was tired, and it was nice to know that someone was here to help if Blake decided to invade the hospital.
Riley jumped to her feet, stretching her back. She'd been sitting in that shitty hospital chair for hours with me and hadn't shown any discomfort until now. "Okay, since you’re here to keep Brooke company, I'm gonna check on the guys and, hopefully, track down Dylan and Beck before they get themselves killed."
I grabbed her hand as she moved to step away. When she turned back, eyebrows raised, I smiled. "Thank you."
This afternoon actually meant a lot to me, especially her somewhat comforting words about Ruth. Her death had been sitting heavily on my chest since I woke, and to finally get some of the sadness out had actually helped.
Riley surprised me with a hug. "I can see what drew Dylan to you," she murmured as she pulled away. "You’re exactly what he needs."
Then she was gone and I was left with a melancholy ache in my chest.
"So," Ben exclaimed, dropping his large body into the too-small chair, "tell me everything about you."
I shook my head. "What, everything from birth?"
"Yep."
This took me aback, but I recovered quickly enough. "Let's see. Born to a middle-class family who managed to make it rich during a property boom. Then their company expanded into a bunch of other ventures, and we lived excessively rich people's lives until they were killed." I swallowed hard, my joking tone drying up fast. "Then I was left in the care of my brother, who is a monster."
