Because they were right.
I’m not enough.
Honey shifted on my chest, tiny paws kneading my hoodie like she was trying to comfort me. My hand trembled as I stroked the soft fur behind her ear, my throat closing in on itself.
“I love her.”
The words fell out before I could stop them.
Quiet.
Raw.
Real.
It felt foreign on my tongue, strange and almost forbidden, but God, it was true. It was so fucking true that it hurt.
Joshua Maxine Lockhart, cold, heartless bastard, every insult in the book just admitted it.
I fucking love her.
The girl I broke.
The girl I watched cry because of me and still wanted to stay. It wasn’t an obsession anymore. It wasn’t guilt, or pity, or that twisted need to protect something I didn’t deserve.
It was love.
The kind that made me want to be better, just so I could be worthy of it.
I turned my head, staring at the ceiling through blurry eyes. Every breath felt heavy, but lighter at the same time, like confessing it made it real, made it okay to feel it.
“I love her,” I whispered again, because saying it once wasn’t enough. My fingers gripped Honey’s fur tighter. “You hear that? I love your mom.”
Honey purred louder, soft and steady against me, and I let out a weak laugh through my tears.
Fuck.
Chapter Fifty-Four
Aurora
Saturday.
The morning light crawled through the blinds as if it were mocking me, soft, peaceful. Everything I wasn’t.
I lay there on my back, staring at the ceiling, the blanket tangled around my legs. I hadn’t moved in hours. Maybe I blinked once or twice. I couldn’t tell.
My chest hurt.
Not the kind of hurt that comes from crying too much or not eating enough. It was deep, right under my ribs, sharp and heavy at the same time.
I pressed my palm against it. Nothing.
I hit it once. Hard.
Then again.
And again.
