“He won’t touch you. I fucking promise.”
The words that fall from his lips are monotone. Tapered. Almostdead.
“Too late.”
Three Weeks Later
Chapter 62
Tristen
“I don’t know whatto do.”
Mumford looks at me with a sternness to his dark gaze, thick arms crossed over his chest.
He looks fuckinghugein the hallway outside Emmett’s room, the darkness caged inside spilling out.
“Let him grieve in his own way,” Mumford rumbles.
I sigh and lean back against the wall opposite, my eyes heavy, my heart even heavier. “He’s not eating.”
“Neither are you.”
“He’s not come out of there. I don’t even think he’s pissed in two days.”
Mumford pins me with that dark gaze, clearly communicating that I should do something to help.
But Emmett’s refusing to come out, to talk, to doanything.
His mom has gotten worse instead of better, except now she’s awake often enough to sneer at me like any of this is my fault.
Each day that passes without Emmett’s normal presence has been like walking through a sludge that just gets thicker. Colder. Harder to move through.
Nothing I do seems to matter.
Bobbie keeps trying to talk to him.Nothing.
Hatley laid with him.Nothing.
Me?Nothing.
All of it stings, but that one stings worse.
“You can’t fix this for him, Ten. You just gotta be there.”
There’s a knowingness that falls over Mumford’s face and I grit my jaw hard.
My chestaches.
I wish I’d gotten here sooner.
It wouldn’t have changed anything, I know that. The damage had already been done to Emmett. I saw it that first night I laid eyes on him—thatdarknessthat followed him like a shadow even in nighttime.
But maybe once … just once … someone could have been there to save him.
It should have been me.
Biting my wobbling lip, I push off from the wall and Mumford follows me back out into the living room where Charline still lays.
