Page 66 of Beautifully Shattered
His lips kick up. “I’ll never fucking send you anywhere. You’re mine. And I’ll look after you until our dying day.”
Shit. He sounds like he means it, although after everything tonight, I don’t know why.
Still… it’s comforting to know someone cares that much about me.
My parents didn’t, yet here is a man, fifteen years older than me, willing torisk everythingjust to give me whatever pieces of himself he has left, even after the unrecognisable person I became earlier.
I don’t deserve him.
“You’ll get sick of me before that happens.” I scoff, and he just shakes his head, leaning down to press a soft kiss to my forehead.
“Never.” He shoots me a wink as he settles back against his pillow. “Now, tell me what’s going on up here.” He taps his finger gently to my temple, and I sigh.
“I feel… guilty. And confused,” I admit, my gaze dropping under the weight of my shame.
“Hey,” Ringo rasps, hooking his finger under my chin, coaxing my eyes back to his. “You’ve got nothing to feel guilty about.”
“That’s not true,” I whisper, sucking in a breath to keep my tears at bay. “I feel guilty for… enjoying myself in the shower with you.”
Tenderly brushing his thumb over my cheek, he offers me a small smile.
“That’s gonna happen sometimes. It’s normal to feel guilt when happiness sneaks in. But don’t forget, it’s part of healing.”
I wonder whenhisfirst moment of happiness was after Hope died.
“I also feel confused… about Wendy,” I admit, needing to get this off my chest. “I wanted her dead. I was sure that’s what I needed to feel better.”
“Only it didn’t, did it?” There’s no judgement in the deep gravel of his voice. No hint of‘I told you so’.
So, I shake my head, needing to give him this truth.
“I told Bobbi I’d kill them all,” I admit, the image of my daughter’s lifeless body flashing before my eyes. “I made her that promise at the morgue. But it doesn’t feel like enough. Killing Wendy didn’t feel like enough. I don’t get it.”
Squeezing my eyes shut, I see Wendy’s eyes right before I pulled the trigger. Her fear. Her acceptance that death was coming for her. The hatred she wore like a second skin, right up until her last breath.
“That’s the thing, Angel. Nothing will be enough. Because nothing can bring Bobbi back.”
Hot tears sting as they fall. I have no control over them as Ringo’s words settle deep into the hollow ache inside me.
Nothing I do will ever bring Bobbi back.
“It hurts so much,” I whimper, and Ringo’s hand slips behind my head, guiding me to his chest, holding me tight.
“I know, Angel. I know.”
I feel like all I do is cry lately. Like every tear is laced into every breath I take.
It was there before Bobbi died, but since then… I fear I’ll never stop.
My husband holds me through it, neither of us saying a word, the silence a welcome comfort. A safe place for me to fall apart.
I ride the emotional rollercoaster I can’t seem to find a way off of, wondering if there will ever be a day where the pain doesn’t strangle me.
By the time my tears dry up, I’m drained, and my drowsy eyes flutter closed, chasing a reprieve.
“Ringo?” I murmur against his chest, and he grunts in response, so I continue before I lose my nerve. “When are you going to get mad at me for killing Wendy?”
“Not tonight, Angel. But make no mistake. We’re going to have a very fucking serious talk about it,” his voice rumbles. “About how I get the feeling you planned to take things into your own hands all along.”
