Then he left.
The room held his absence like smoke.
I stared at the door.
A thought rose, stupid and shining through the haze.
Maybe Dylan could be mine.
I nearly laughed out loud.
My parents would never let me date a Royal Bastard. I was not even eighteen yet, and I was lying here thinking this man was the love of my life because he wiped one tear and kissed my hair after dragging me from a crime scene.
I was definitely still drugged.
Still crazy.
Still concussed.
Maybe all three.
Regan cleared her throat.
I looked at her and wanted to disappear under the blanket.
“Please don’t,” I whispered.
“Don’t what?” she asked.
“Look at me like that.”
Her face broke.
“Oh, baby.”
That did it.
The apology came back up, bigger this time, too heavy to swallow.
“I’m sorry,” I said, and when she opened her mouth, I shook my head. “No. Let me say it. Please. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I stole the bike. I went to the party. I drank. I smoked something. I knew better. I did. I set things on fire. I could’ve hurt people. I could’ve killed someone. I could’ve ruined everything you built. I could’ve?—”
My voice shattered.
Edge sat again and leaned close.
“Stop.”
“I can’t.”
“Yes, you can.”
“No, I can’t, because if I don’t say it now, I might never be brave enough to say it again.” I looked from him to Regan to Tarak. “I did exactly what they always said I would do. I became her.”
Tarak flinched.
Regan’s eyes filled.
Edge’s hand closed around mine, careful of the IV.
