“You’re coming home,” Beau declared, zipping up the suitcase.
I pursed my lips and did my best to shuffle toward him, and my shoes, despite the pain gnawing my heart. Pain not just from the gunshot wound. I was on enough drugs to help soothe the worst of that, but the agony caused by hearing Beau still referring to his place as my home.
As I opened my mouth to fight, curse him, fall apart, a small voice interrupted me.
“You’re coming home?”
I turned quickly, wincing at the rapid movement. My painkillers weren’tthatgood.
I felt Beau rush to my side, softly place his hands gently on my hips as if to steady me. His touch was a balm and torment at the same time.
Clara was standing at the door, holding her grandfather’s hand.
“You’re coming home?” she repeated, hope and joy in her voice. Her eyes sparkled with that light I’d been missing since the moment that gun went off.
I stared at her. The little person I loved most in this world.
“Yes, Blueberry,” I replied quietly. “I’m coming home.”
Five Weeks Later
I slept with Clara every night.
In Beau’s bed.
With Beau.
Because Clara now had nightmares. And she needed both of us to settle.
Neither Beau nor I would deny her a single thing that would help her feel safe.
I had nightmares too.
And interestingly, I didn’t have them when I had both Clara and Beau by my side.
Once again, like at the start, Clara was our buffer. Despite her being small in stature, she was a mighty force in those early days. Yet now, despite all her magnificence, she couldn’t buffer us from our past. Couldn’t shield us from the knowledge we had of each other. The hurt leeching through the cracks.
It was torture.
And it was untenable.
I was healing physically, so I considered going back to school for the spring semester, if I took limited classes.
If I chose the school thirty minutes away. The one I’d already enrolled in. Paid for.
Or I could take Cole up on his offer for me to move in with him in New York. Which meant paying for a whole new school and attempting to transfer again.
Not that that was really an option.
Not with Clara only just now getting back to her old self, having less nightmares. Another change for her, me leaving, would be too much for her. Too much for me.
I couldn’t sleep in Beau’s bed indefinitely.
We’d both been avoiding the conversation.
Well, I had been avoiding that conversation as well as any conversation with Beau that threatened to go beyond surface level.
He had made it clear that he was ready to talk through things whenever I wanted. That he was willing to grovel on his knees, do anything for my forgiveness. He showed it subtly, respecting my distance. Well, as much as he could while helping me shower, helping me dress.
