"That's not..."
"Two years of believing I was the problem."
I pull back my fist and punch him as hard asI can.
The sound of knuckles connecting with jaw echoes through the clinic like a gunshot. Beau's head snaps back, and he stumbles against the reception desk, blood already welling from his split lip.
For a moment, everything goes still. The only sound is the harsh rasp of our breathing and the soft gasp Lucy makes as she takes in what just happened.
Then Beau straightens, touches his mouth, and looks at the blood on his fingers like it's something mildly interesting instead of something I put there.
"Feel better?" he asks, and there's something that might be relief in his voice.
I stare at him, my knuckles throbbing like a son of a bitch, my chest heaving, and realize that I have no idea how to answer that question.
Because I do feel better.
And I feel worse.
And I feel like I want to hit him again and hug him at the same time, and I have no idea what any of that means or what the hell happens next.
All I know is that the truth is finally out, hanging in the air between us like a bridge we don't know how to cross.
31
Lucy
The sound of Colt's fist connecting with Beau's jaw echoes through the clinic like a gunshot, and I watch in horror as Beau staggers backward, blood already welling from his split lip.
The sunflowers I'm clutching slip from my fingers, scattering across the linoleum as reality crashes over me like a cold Montana river.
This is my fault.
The thought slams into me, stealing my breath and making my knees go weak. They were fine before I stumbled into their lives with my secrets and my damage and my desperate need to be wanted.
Colt and Beau were both broken, sure, but they were existing in their separate corners of pain without actively trying to destroy each other.
And now, because of me, because they're fighting over who gets to take me home, they're throwing punches.
"Stop," I gasp, my voice coming out thin and shaky as I move toward them. "Please, just stop. This is all my fault. I never should have..."
"Lucy, no." Gabriel's hand closes around my arm, gentle but firm, stopping me before I can throw myself between the two men. "Let them work this out."
"But they're fighting because of me!" The words burst out of me, high and desperate. "Because I couldn't just pick one of you, because I had to be greedy and want..."
"This isn't about you." Gabriel's voice cuts through my spiral, quiet but certain, his blue eyes focused on the two men facing each other across the clinic floor. "Not entirely. This has been building for two years, Lucy. It was always gonna come to a head eventually."
I want to argue with him, want to insist that if I hadn't shown up in their lives like some kind of disaster magnet, Colt and Beau would have found a way to coexist peacefully. But even as the thought forms, I know he's right.
The tension between them has been crackling since the moment I met them both, an undercurrent of hurt and resentment that had nothing to do with me and everything to do with whatever ghost they've been carrying.
"You knew," Colt is saying, his voice raw as sandpaper as he stares at Beau. "All this time, you knew, and you said nothing."
Beau touches his split lip, examining the blood on his fingers like he's trying to solve some puzzle. "Colt..."
"Two years." Colt's hands are clenched into fists at his sides, his whole body vibrating like a live wire. "Two years I've been blaming myself, thinking I wasn't enough…"
"That's not what happened."
