It’s hard to read him. What he’s thinking, how he feels. His mask is a second skin, and I’d love to know how to penetrate his thoughts. To catch a glimpse of what he thinks about the changes in me over the years.
Before my world ended, I had a massive crush on him. I’d have handed my heart over if he ever asked for it.
Raising a hand to the windowpane, I press all five fingers against the coolness, watching as his fists ball at his sides. Is he angry? At what he sees? Or that I won’t cover up?
Glimpsing down my body, I attempt to view myself the way he must, and all I feel is disgust. The scars, the protruding bones, the outline of a body that could never satisfy a man like him. Nothing about me is attractive. My body is repulsive.
Slamming my fists against the glass once…twice…I catch the alarm in his eyes as I do it a third time, and it shatters, nearly propelling me outward. Blood streaks down my hands and arms. I study it, utterly fascinated as drops spill freely to the green grass below my window. Falling, falling, disappearing when they land. Tempting me to climb onto the ledge of the window, wondering if I’ll disappear when I fall, as well.
Pain belatedly penetrates the fog as there is pounding on my bedroom door before wood splinters and a roared protest pierces the silence.
Hands encircle my waist, tugging me from the ledge, as my mom cries and my dad curses from somewhere nearby. But I can’t come back. I don’t want to come back.
“Let me go.” The words are a plea from my soul.
“Never.” It’s painful to hear Saint’s feral protest.
He wants me to stay.
I wish they’d killed me.
“Oh, baby.” I open my eyes at Mom’s teary voice, as she places a blanket over my naked body. “Please.” It’s a bid for me to fight. To stay. To live a life I hate.
“Please, Mama, let me die.” Vicious sobs crack me open, and all my strength vanishes as dad enters with towels for my hands and a phone to his ear as he speaks quietly to someone—probably Nolan or Uncle King.
I shut my eyes and turn my face away from them. Handling their sadness, their worry, their disappointment with my actions is impossible right now. They have no idea how much breathing hurts. Not just physically, either, but emotionally. Being alive and waking up day after day is sheer agony and misery.
CHAPTER 3
Saint
As the doctor bandages Lake’s fresh wounds, I pace back and forth at the end of her bed, growling low in my throat when the scent of her blood hits my nostrils again. The crude crimson stains my hands and shirt. I’ll suffer with it because I refuse to leave her side to wash it off.
Her dad had called mine, King, and her brother, but I’ve refused to allow anyone in here except Luther and Ariel. She needs no audience for her misery, not when she’s already shutting down. More people witnessing her like this will only make it worse. Of that, I’m certain.
Luther keeps one eye on me and the other on the doctor. He’s waiting for me to pounce and rip the guy’s head off or toss him out the window. In all the years since my feelings towards Lake have changed, I’ve never outwardly expressed my desires to the older men in our family. And until the fight last night, never so openly with the younger ones.
I recognize that Lake needs more than I can possibly give her. I’m too violent, too unfeeling, too possessive of her. Knowing all this, I should let her go, but my every instinct screams to hold her closer. That my dismissal of her would be the catalyst for her ending.
The only thing I’ve ever wanted to do was love and protect her. Do I truly know how to do that? Probably not. But no one on earth would try harder than me. Which means I need to learn how to help her. Gain a better understanding of what she’ll need to come back from this, because today was likely her rock bottom.
I halt my pacing and clear my throat, asking nicely that everyone leave the room for a few minutes. The only person who will ever see my own vulnerabilities is Lake. She gets all of me, while everyone else can endure the monster.
Ariel hesitates to leave before leveling me with a sorrowful look, silently begging me to promise to take care of her daughter. Once we’re alone, I slip into bed, pressing my body to Lake’s, protecting her from every angle I can.
I kiss the back of her neck, inhaling deeply before speaking. “I’m going to leave for a few hours. I need to learn how to help you, my sweet haven.” Her breath catches, but she doesn’t move, doesn’t open her eyes. She lies there like she expects to disappear, and it kills me inside. “I’ll be back, Lake, I swear.”
No reply from her.
I’m not mad. She is fragile like a lonely flower sprouting through a mountain top. Beauty surrounded by more beauty but could disappear in an instant.
I’m not the most intuitive man, but I understand she needs for me to express what I’m doing and where I’m going while also keeping my word.
Leaving her takes every ounce of my strength. I ignore everyone in my path and head out of the house, making the call to her middle sibling, Damien, to urge him to come home. Lake needs everyone by her side right now. Next, I call Hendrix to meet up with Mia. She’s the only person I know who could direct me to the resources Lake needs at this point. It’s become increasingly obvious that her current therapist is of no help to her. Lake continues to worsen, with no end to her agony in sight.
I text Luther to let him know of my plan to drive up to Mobile to meet with Hendrix and Mia, while their girls spend time at the Deviant Sinners clubhouse, then I leave.
The silence of the drive ate at me, providing too much time to contemplate all the things that could go wrong in my absence. I push through the doubts, knowing this is better than waiting for some magical cure.
