Page 29 of Beautifully Shattered
Not physically, at least.
I’m stillbleeding. My breasts are sore and engorged, because even though Bobbi died, my milk has still come in, and I don’t know what to do about that.
Who do I even ask? Should I even do something?
I’ve thought about asking to borrow someone’s phone to call Ayden’s mum, Andrea, but I just can’t bring myself to go through all the questions or hear the sympathy in her voice.
I just… can’t.
So instead of dealing with all of that, I sleep.
It’s a little after 11pm when I wake again, hungry, but not enough to want to eat once I remember Bobbi is gone, leaving me to live in this harsh reality.
The room is empty. Ringo still hasn’t come to me, and I’m beginning to think Jols didn’t know what she was talking about.
If he truly cared, he’d be here… right?
Shit, what do I know?
Getting out of bed, I check over the black clothes Jols gave me yesterday to wear to the Southern Sadists’ funerals tomorrow. Now that my bump has somewhat deflated, it’s easier to fit into her things, even though they are still a little snug and nowhere near the style of anything I would normally choose for myself.
But as I look at the black leather, I have to admit, right now, they match the darkness swirling through my veins like thick, suffocating smoke.
Black is the colour of mourning, after all.
Moving to the window, I glance down at the far corner of the back deck to see if the guys are still out there, but it’s all dark and silent, like everyone has already gone to bed.
My heart sinks.
Ringo’s not here.
He’s not sleeping with me again.
Maybe I really have pushed him away for good.
That thought cuts deeper than I expected. More painful than I can handle, and I realise I really doneedRingo.
I need his love. His strength. His stupid protective growl and the way his hands soften when they touch me like I’m something fragile.
I need him.
Even more than that… Iwanthim.
“Where are you?” I whisper into the dark room, and as if I’ve conjured him out of thin air, I spot the silhouette of a man standing down on the bank, by the water.
My heart does a little flip. The kind I felt weeks ago when my world hadn’t completely crumbled.
But then… it sinks to the pit of my gut as I watch him stagger to his knees like his legs aren’t strong enough to hold him up anymore, his hands fisting in his hair like he’s trying to rip the strands from the roots.
I spin, my heart hammering as I run from the room, taking two steps at a time, ignoring the snore coming from the couch as I dash past.
My fingers fumble with the latch on the glass door a few times before it releases, and I slide it open, bolting out into the night.
My heart, the one I thought dead only minutes ago, thrashes wildly in my chest as I race across the deck and down the steps, the icy chill of the damp grass soaking my bare feet as I start running across the yard.
As I get closer, my feet slow. The sound of gut-wrenching sobs rips through the quiet, so raw and broken as he kneels, slumped and defeated on the sandy bank of the lake.
This…
