“Don’t apologize.”
“Okay.”
I take a deep intake of breath, taking her hands in mine. She looks physically fine. Her wrists are still wrapped in bandages, and a look of shame crosses her face when she spots me looking at the covered wounds. She looks away, and I know better than to pry and ask uncomfortable questions.
“I won’t ask anything. But I’m here if you need anyone to talk to.”
Aria nods. “Thank you.”
“Is he dead?”
“No.”
A frown tugs on my face, a look of disbelief flashing through. “Excuse me? Arlo and Hudson didn’t immediately jump to dismember, torture, and eventually kill the bastard who drove you to this?”
Aria winces, then pulls me to sit down on the plastic chairs. They’re in the same shade as her clothes, and she almost blends into the chair.
“Well, they wanted to. Like, really, really wanted to. But I managed to persuade them into just banishing him from New York.”
“Why would you settle for that?”
“Because one day, sooner or later, Wyatt will come back. And when he does, I’ll be in a much better place mentally, and I’ll be the one to kill him, Blair. He ruined my life. I’ll ruin his.”
Her words ooze with determination, a confident gleam in her pretty eyes. The logic is flawed, to say the least, but if that’s what’s forcing her to focus on herself, her growth, and taking care of her mental health, I won’t burst her bubble. Because if the man has a singular brain cell, he’ll never return to New York.
Then again, I doubt men like him have a working brain cell.
“Okay,” I offer a small smile, and she returns it, though there’s lingering sadness in her eyes.
“Do you think Mom will be okay?”
Her words are barely above a whisper, eyes swelling with unshed tears. I swallow thickly a knot that forms in my throat and take a deep breath, intertwining my fingers with hers. I’m silent for a few moments, debating how to approach this subject carefully, without risking her mental health declining further.
“I think that she’s surrounded by the best doctors possible, and Hudson will do everything in his power to save her. However, I don’t know if that will be enough. From what I’ve overheard while being in this hall with Kaya, the nurses are optimistic she’ll wake up soon.”
“What am I supposed to do if she doesn’t?” Aria whispers, looking at her lap. Her hands tremble, her fingers loosening around mine. “She found me, Blair. She was the one that saw the bathtub filled with my blood. And I never got to apologize to her. I didn’t get to say goodbye. I’m just starting to realize how selfish that was of me.
Tears fall down her face, dropping onto her lap. I brush them away with my thumbs, tilting her chin upward to force her to look at me. I soften my gaze, unable to hide how the regret in her eyes is starting to affect me.
“It wasn’t selfish, Aria,” I murmur. “You saw no way out and did what you thought was best. I’m so fucking happy you’re still with us, and I’ll never let you do that again, but it wasn’t selfish. Yes, the people around you were inevitably hurt by your attempt, but you were hurting, too. What matters now is that you’re working on improving your mental health, and you’ll have Arlo and me with you every step of the way. And no matter what happens to Noelle, you need to know that she didn’t blame you, not even for a second. I might not have been there when it happened, but I know her enough to know that she would never blame you.”
A choked sob slips from Aria’s lips, and she pulls me into another hug, crying her soul out on my shoulder. I stroke her back softly, playing with her hair in the process, and hold her tightly against me.
The fierce, loud, outspoken teenager is so vulnerable in my arms right now, and she trusts me enough to show me all of it. I kiss the top of her head, and that provokes another wave of tears from her. Her body trembles against mine, and she seems so… small.
“You’ll be okay,” I whisper. “You’ll be alright.”
For a moment, I don’t know who I’m talking to — Aria or myself. Because the memories of the past four months start resurfacing, and the deeper ones, the ones I wanted to stay buried forever, start making an appearance. The things they did to me, the things they ripped away from me.
I’m not qualified to console anyone, not when I’m constantly being dragged back into the personal hell Paul Simmons has made for me. Not when I’m still not sure if I’ll make it out of this fiasco alive, and certainly not when I don’t know if I’ll ever beable to heal.
Because sometimes, the pain and the darkness are too great for a human to bear.
Aria pulls back, wiping her tears, and that breaks the train of thoughts. She sniffs a little, then takes a deep intake of breath, looking at me through glossy eyes.
“If you tell anyone I cried, I will kill you.”
There she is.
