Page 93 of The Beginning and End of Everything
"Here." Finn comes from the kitchen, a beer in one hand and an ice pack in the other. He tosses me the ice pack and points at my hand. I glance down at my ripped and bloody knuckles, and all I see is them coming into contact with Poppy's beautiful face.
"I need to go to her." I start to get up, but he places a hand on my shoulder.
"Just let Hope deal with her for now." He places an unopened beer on the coffee table, then takes a seat next to me.
"They were just there, and she was there, and I lost my shit. I would never hurt her." But I did. I did hurt her.
Finn sips his beer. "I know. It was an accident."
My mind races in a whirlwind of guilt and horror while I stare numbly at the wall.
Eventually, Finn goes to bed, and I grab my phone, staring at the blank screen before I pull up Poppy's name. It goes straight to voicemail, so I text her:
Me: Possum, I’m so sorry. Please forgive me. I love you.
I wait and wait but get no response. My heart pounds in my chest as a very real fear eats away at me.She's going to leave me.She's going to leave, and then what? She's everything, and without her, it's all completely pointless. She's the one person I cannot bear to hurt.
I finish one beer, then another. I go from not wanting Poppy to leave to realizing, maybe sheshould. I think about the times I’ve hurt her—from things as stupid as the Barbie doll to parading girls in front of her when I was a teenager, thinking it would make her realize she deserved better. I took her virginity, then avoided her for months, not to mention, that was a secret we both kept from Connor…I left Connor. I left her, and now this—bringing her right down with me. I'm a disaster waiting to happen, a ticking bomb, and she's strapped right in with me just, awaiting the inevitable bang.
She is my peace, but I just saw that even she can't quiet this demon inside me, which is why I decide to do the selfless thing for once in my shitty life. I don't want her forgiveness, I just want her to be happy and loved and safe. I will only hurt her, and that's not what love should be. So, I'll let her go.
Me: I don't deserve your forgiveness, and I can't live with myself, knowing I've hurt you. Just know that I love you, always.
52
Poppy
Hope takes away the icepack that's been on my face for the past thirty minutes, then tosses it into the sink. "This is what I was talking about. He's messed up, Poppy."
"That wasn’t Brandon," I mumble.
“No, Poppy, itwasBrandon." With a shake of her head, she pushes away from the counter and comes to sit next to me on the sofa. "He's…”
"He didn't know what he was doing." And that, I believe. "It was a reaction. I shouldn't have tried to stop him. I should have just…” My mind jumbles with excuses, but I can't help but wonder, am I justifying this too much? I love him, but am I trying to make something work that has no business working?
"Did he mean to hit you? No, but did he? Yes." Hope places her hand on my knee. "He needs help, and you know it. Poppy, you work with these blokes day in and day out. You know what war can do to someone."
What war can do to someone.War is death on so many levels, a poison that seeps through a person’s veins and never lets them go. It took Connor's life, and, on some days, Brandon is like a zombie, always haunted by the memories; the cruelty and gore. War sentenced him to hell, and so it sentenced me right along with him.
"Poppy, I know you want to help him, but at what cost to yourself? You can't just—"
"I can do whatever I want. It's my life." And it’s a mess. One I don’t want to discuss.
Hope gives a curt nod before she pushes off the couch and goes back to the kitchen.
I drag a hand over my face. I shouldn’t be mad at her, but my emotions are so on edge. I’m still confused. “I’m sorry,” I say on my way to the hall. “I just. I think I need sleep.”
“I understand, Poppy. I do.”
I close the door to Hope’s spare room, dragging in an uneasy breath as I pass by the dresser and make a conscious effort to avoid my reflection. I'm in love with a man I've known my entire life, who houses darkness no light will ever find its way into. That part of him was created to survive, but now, I worry about how he will survive himself.
* * *
The next morning,I wake with a sore face and a mind full of questions: Do I go home and pretend everything is okay? Do I leave him? But what kind of person would leave someone they love when they are at their darkest?
Hope and I go to The Cozy Club for breakfast, and much to her displeasure, I decide to go home.
The second I step into the bedroom, Brandon’s gaze snaps to mine, then falls to my cheek, his jaw tightening before his head drops forward. "I’m so sorry."
