Then her lips curve and that edible little dimple winks at me. I lean in and press my lips to it. “Love seeing that secret smile.”
She leans her forehead against mine, letting out a breath.
“Hey, Eighty-Seven?” she whispers. “Thanks for coming to get me.”
“Always, baby. Always.”
My stomach twistsas I stare at Bella. She looks like a mascara-smeared panda perched at the end of my hospital bed as she clutches a pillow. I’ve never seen her so breakable.
Before she got here, I ran through everything I wanted to tell her.
I had a plan.
An order.
Bullet points in my head to expand on. I rehearsed it repeatedly. Like maybe if I said it perfectly it wouldn’t hurt. But the second she burst through the doors and saw me awake for the first time since I’d been admitted…
I wasn’t twenty-one anymore.
I was twelve-year-old Lucia again. Scared, small, and being saved by her for the first time. That burning surge of fire in my veins returned.
The plan?
The order?
Gone.
I word-vomited all over her, crying and apologizing in one messy and sniffling monologue while she just stared with wide eyes until they were filled with tears.
By the time I stopped talking, I felt hollowed out but better.
And honestly?
Finally saying it.
Finally letting her in… liberating.
“Bella,” I whisper. My fingers twitch against the blanket, bracing for anger or disappointment—anything but silence.
Her lip wobbles, and she drags her forearm under her nose.
“You kept this to yourself all this time?” she rasps, her voice scratchy from crying.
Shame creeps up my neck, hot and crawling, because hearing it out loud makes it sound even worse.
“I-I was scared, Bella. After everything I dumped on you guys about Roger and Griff when I ran away… I didn’t want to add more. And I was afraid I’d look insane.”
Her mouth flattens. She loosens her death grip on the pillow, then smacks me in the head with it. “Idiot.”
The light thump startles a laugh out of me, even with the ache wrapped around my ribs.
“Hey, I’m injured.”
“I’m increasing the punishment. You’re grounded for, like…forever.”
She shuffles forward and wraps her arms around my neck. Her touch is gentle but solid. She smells of coffee and vanilla lotion—safety. It’s as if she’s squeezing years of fear right out of the places I’ve been carrying it the most.
“Yeah…somehow I don’t think that’s gonna be a problem,” I murmur. “Not with Drill Sergeant Harper roaming the halls. I know he told you he’s moving me in and promised he wouldn’t let me out of his sight.” The thought of him pacing the hallway brings a laugh to my lips.
