Finally… I can breathe again.
“Go home, Isaac,” Betty says beside me.
“Tomorrow,” I reply quietly, more to myself than her. Betty shakes her head, leaving no room for argument. “No, you go. Go have a night out, get laid. Just live.”
My mouth falls open before snapping shut again. Too stunned to speak. Get laid. Me. Out of all people. That’s the last thing I have in mind. I couldn’t help the small chuckle that made it past my lips. Maybe she’s right… Maybe I do need to live. Finally, the pieces are falling into place. There’s no need for me to be here. I return my focus to the open incubator that nestles my son. He’s asleep, a tiny fist curled near his face, completely unaware of how close he is to coming home. I tuck my phone back into my pocket, accepting defeat. I do need to get some sleep. Without a word, I grab my jacket from the chair and force myself to walk away before I change my mind. From behind me, I can hear her muttering something in approval, but I don’t stop to acknowledge it. The hallways feel too bright when I step out of the dim hum of Lucas' room. My footsteps echo as I head for the elevators, body heavy with exhaustion now that I’m actually moving.
My phone buzzes again.
Pulling it back out, I stare at the message from my best friend.
Sledge:
Get out of the hospital and meet us for a drink. C’mon, old man, you deserve a fucking break.
I stare at the message longer than I should. Exhaling softly, I type back.
Me:
Fine. One.
And I mean it, I really could use some sleep. In a real bed. I miss the feeling of being in my own body. The elevator doors slide open, and I step inside, the hospital lights disappearing as the door closes. For the first time in weeks, there’s nothing pulling back.
Finally, I can live again.
Chapter Forty Six
Veronica
The bass pulses through my ribs as I throw my head back and laugh. I can’t believe Alexa talked me into coming out tonight, but it would be a lie to say I wasn’t having the time of my life. God, it’s been so long since I felt this free. This alive.
Content.
There’s no Harry waiting to pounce on me, no guilt clawing its way down my chest. Or grief holding me down until it fills my lungs with pain. Alexa tugs my hand again, spinning me into another messy circle on the dance floor, her blonde waves bouncing as she howls with delight. “You look so hot, Ronnie.” I look down at my dress. For a moment, I grow self conscious at how the emerald dress rides high on my thighs. How the green complements my golden skin. She’s right, I do look hot. I look like me again… My eyes rake over her form, taking a good look at her wearing a leather mini dress and knee-high boots. She’s a fucking baddie, and the thing is, she knows it. And owns it.
“You’re one to talk.”
“Bitch, I only stated the obvious,” she retorts with a smile, resting her hand on my side and matching my movements to the music. I let her tug me along. We sway. We rock. I let it all happen. Not because I have to, but because I want to. The music, the laughter that bursts through me, the drinks we continue to drink, until I’m buzzing and hot. It’s perfect. It’s us. We dance like no one’s watching, to the song “Hot Blooded,” by New Constellations. The rhythm makes us writheagainst each other. Alexa leans in, shouting over the music, “You’reglowing,bitch!”
I snort into my drink and raise it in the air. “That’s just sweat and a tequila buzz.”
She grins wickedly. “Or maybe you finally remember how to be thatgirlagain.”
I missed this. I missed us. Missed me…
Tears spring into my eyes, and I quickly blink them away. Feeling the music sink into my skin and bones. My hips continue to sway to the side, my head matching its rhythm. Letting myself get lost in the buzz of the tequila and the pulse of the music. Suddenly, my best friend cups my face, her blue eyes glistening with tears.
“I’m so fucking proud of you,” she slurs before a hiccup escapes her. Oh, she’sdrunk! But I don’t mind.
“I love you, Lex,” I shout over the music. “Bad bitches don’t cry, they dance.” With that, I laugh loudly with my full chest. For the first time in a long time, I feel the weight of my trauma lift from my heart, and in its place, calmness takes hold. Alexa spins again, tipsy and twirling like a gleeful hurricane. Her laughter is contagious—she’s always been the loudest in the room. Something I always loved about my best friend. I raise my hand with hers, letting the music thread through my veins like lightning.
The lights above us strobe red, pink, and gold. Everything feels alive. Everything feels like mine again. For the first time in forever, I’m not looking over my shoulder. I’m not holding my breath. I’m not justsurviving…butthriving. I’m living, and I don’t want the night to end, for this feeling swelling inside my chest to go away.
I wipe a bead of sweat off my temple before finishing the rest of my drink in one swallow, when Alexa goes still beside me. Slowly, she tips her cup to her lips, her eyes tracking something—or someone—over my shoulder. My pulse spikes. Adrenaline rushes, blending with the alcohol and creating a unique surge through my bloodstream.
It takes me a minute to steady my breath, not even sure why I feel this way. Just as the anxiety builds, it’s relaxed by the sight of a slow, sly grin that begins to spread across her face, which tells me it's someone we know, my guess is that smirk is for Sledge. “Oh,” she hums over the loud thumping of the music. “Would you look at that?”
My brow furrows, my hand moves to my face, wondering if there’s something on it. “What?”
