Page 55 of With a Broken Wing
It had been two weeks since I walked away from her and left her kneeling on the hotel floor. I hadn’t even attempted to talk to or see her since, but that didn’t stop the images of her from haunting my mind. She lived rent free in my head every minute of every day. I found myself thinking about the way her breath hitched when she laughed and the way she put her hand on her chest when she was excited.
Most nights I went to sleep thinking about the way she’d felt in my arms and cursing myself for desperately wanting it again. I should want nothing to do with her. Then she walked across the lawn behind Jules and William, her hands tucked in her pockets. When she blew a loose hair out of her face, I wanted to go to her. I wanted to wrap myself around her and take away all the pain that twisted her face.
Instead, I sat back and watched. Scott stood off to the side with Shelby and Erin. He was still angry with me, but lucky for him, I didn’t fire him. He also didn’t quit. I didn’t care that he was mad. All three of them had maintained their distance the last couple of weeks, but when they looked at me, I gave them a small smile. A truce.
“Hey, uh, you Demetri?”
I turned around. The red hair told me it was Andy’s brother, but I was surprised by the tattoos that covered his neck and hands. He looked like the kind of man I wouldn’t particularly want to mess with in any setting. A direct contrast to Andy’s normally sunny demeanor.
“I am, yeah.” I stuck my hand out. “Auston, I assume?”
“What gave it away?” He ran his hand through his hair with a laugh.“I just wanted to say thank you for the plane tickets. That was cool of you.”
“It was nothing. I figured if you came, then…” I paused when he lifted his brow. “It doesn’t matter. I was glad to do it. Welcome.”
“Yeah, I’m shocked she’s here.” He was watching Andy, and I couldn’t place the look on his face. Protectiveness, worry, and admiration. “Our birthday is a bad day for her, and she’s been in a reallydarkplace the last couple of weeks. It’s basically the first time we’ve seen her on her feet.”
I followed his gaze, watching Andy standing on the lawn. Her friends talked to her while she listened, holding her arms tightly wrapped around her. She’d remind herself every few seconds that she should be smiling because her lips would twitch back into a smile before it’d slowly fall.
“Why does she hate her birthday so much?” I asked him.
He sighed, looking back at her before turning to meet my gaze. “It’s something she should probably tell you, but I know she hasn’t ever told anyone, and really,youprobably deserve the explanation.” He took a deep breath, fisting his hand in his pocket. “When we turned sixteen, she wanted a party so bad. You know sixteen-year-old girls and the wholesweet sixteenthing. Our parents refused; they said people only got parties when someone was happy they were born.”
I glanced at Andy in line at the funnel cake booth with Katie. Katie held her hand, and Andy rested her head on her shoulder. My heart squeezed in my chest. “They weren’t happy she was born?”
He shook his head. “They were awful to her.” We stood in silence for a moment, but before I could ask for more information, he continued. “That night, the neighborhood set off fireworks, and when most of us were outside, Andy got into my mom’s medicine cabinet. She had a collection of painkillers in there, all different kinds, and Andy swallowed a bottle. They aren’t sure how many she took, but when I noticed she wasn’t standing outside, I went to find her. She wasn’t breathing when I found her on the bathroom floor.” He paused, his voice starting to shake.
“When the ambulance showed up, the whole neighborhood watched them take her out on a stretcher. I was the only one who went with her to the hospital. I held her hand when she coded in the ambulance, but they brought her back.”
He sighed and looked at her, the same look from earlier returning. This time I could place it. It was the look of someone who had almost lost the most important person in their life, the same person he was scared to lose now. He scoffed, tugging at his hair.
“When she was released, they wouldn’t let her leave without a parent. Our parents finally came to get her, and when they got her home, he beat her. I thought for a second time that she was going to die in my arms.”
The bile in my stomach turned to cement, and I couldn’t swallow. Every flinch, every cringe. It all made sense. It was never an ex-boyfriend. When I looked up at her again, she looked away. Was she looking at Auston or me, and for how long?
“Thanks for telling me. I’m really sorry you both went through all of that.”
“Really, it was just Andy. For some reason, they hated her. They still do. I don’t know why she ever gives them the time of day.”
I’ve survived worse than you.
For a moment, I thought I might throw up. What do you say to a man who just told you his sister was so severely abused that when she tried to kill herself, they almost did it for her because she didn’t succeed? It was like he read my mind.
“You don’t have to say anything.” He clapped his hand on my shoulder in understanding. How many times has he explained their past? “Maybe I could askyousomething, though?”
“Yeah, anything.”
“What happened between you guys? She won’t talk about it, and I can’t lie, man. I’m scared I’m going to lose my sister. Twins can justfeelit sometimes, you know?” He scrunched his face, and I wanted to erase the last two weeks and pick her up off her knees and let her explain. I wanted to cradle her face in my hands and make her tell me every dark secret so I could make it all a distant memory.
“Her friend… Fisher, I think she said—”
He interrupted me. “Fisher. Fisher Jordan? He’s not her friend. The dude is bad news. He knows how to get to her. Whatever it is, I hope you let her explain soon. She’s worth forgiving.” He slapped his hand against my back and walked away.
I stood on the lawn in a daze for a moment, and when I looked up, she wasn’t standing there anymore. I scanned the party, landing on a bright red ball of hair sitting on top of a bowed head at a picnic table off to the side. Andy picked at the funnel cake in front of her, but she never lifted it to her lips. She just tore the cake into small pieces.
She’s worth forgiving.
Pickingat the funnel cake did nothing but make my fingers sticky. I tried to eat it; they were my favorite, but every time I tried to eat a piece, my mouth watered in that acerbic way it did before you throw up. Instead, I stared at the shredded pieces of fried dough and the mountain of powdered sugar on the flimsy plate in front of me.
