“Hi, angel.”
She gave me that painful half-smile. “Are you looking for Lynn?”
“Her, and you. How are you doing?”
Surprise softened her eyes, adding a hint of life to her hazel eyes. It was the only bit of life to her; she looked tired, and ten years younger. It was the first time I’d truly seen her without makeup, without her hair styled in immaculate waves.
“I’m… fine,” she replied, her lips forced into a curve at the edges.
I raised an eyebrow. “I come equipped with a very accurate BS meter.” I softened my voice, and wondered if she could hear it—how much I’d loved her at a distance for months. “You don’t have to pretend with me. You don’t need to wear a mask andact like everything’s normal. Nothing is normal, angel, for any of us.”
She crossed her arms over her chest, not angry—defensive. Guarding herself. “You think I’m wearing a mask?”
“No one would be okay after what happened in the basement—”
“Nothinghappened in that basement,” she snapped, tightening her arms around her middle. “It’s fine.I’mfine. Thank you for your concern, I appreciate it, but…”
“You’re fine?” I guessed.
“Yes.”
“If you need somewhere you can benotfine, without judgement or expectation, come find me, okay?” When she opened her mouth, I quickly added, “Tell me you’re fine again, I dare you. You haven’t eaten today, you’re dehydrated, in pain, and exhausted. And on top of that, you’re using all your energy to mask how afraid and traumatised you are. Angel, the wordfinedoesn’t come into the picture.”
Her mouth tightened. Nostrils flared. And right when I was ready for her to lay into me, she burst into tears.
“Oh, fuck,” I breathed, rushing to pull her into my arms, holding her as tightly as I dared. “I’m so fucking sorry. I didn’t mean to make you cry, I should have kept my big mouth shut. Me nagging you is the last thing you need.”
Her chest jumped with broken breaths, her voice tight and squeaky when she said, “No, you’re right. Everything you said. I just—I just want to go back to normal.”
“I don’t think that’s possible,” I said gently. “You’re going to burn yourself out trying to put everything back the way it was.”
Her shoulders slouched, her head resting on my chest the way it did last night. “What—what do I do?”
“What do you want to do? What do you need?”
“I’ll be okay,” she mumbled against my shirt.
“I know, angel. That’s not what I asked.”
She was quiet for a long moment. “Did I miss the funeral? Dreamer’s?”
“No.” I couldn’t help myself; I glanced the tips of my fingers through her brown hair, the urge to comfort her, to take all her worries away battering at my soul, screaming through every instinct. “It’ll be in a couple weeks.”
“He didn’t have any family. No children, no one left except us. I—I think I want to help plan it.”
“Probably a good idea.” I forced my mouth into a crooked smirk. “My brothers are bloody useless at event planning. There’s no way Dreamer would want fuchsia roses, right? And IknowI heard Tyb talking about playing Mariah Carey’s Hero.”
The look she gave me was dubious, not quite amused, but it was something. It wasn’t lifeless. “It should be AC/DC.”
“Highway to Hell’s probably too on the nose,” I joked.
“No.” She smiled, small and fragile but real this time. “I think he’d love it.”
When she looked up at me, I brushed a lock of hair behind her ear, my fingers lingering, the warmth of her a profound reassurance that she was here, alive. Hurt and afraid but still so kind. How the hell did she do it? I’d want to rip the world apart in her shoes. “You know so much about all of us,” I realised.
She shrugged. “I pay attention. I like looking after people. It makes me feel good, makes me feel—” She cut off with a shake of her head.
“No judgement or expectation, remember?” I said gently.
