Page 12 of Pretty Lethal
I sigh, all traces of anger seeping out of me until all I feel is hollow. Without a word, I stride out of the bedroom and over to the kitchen, searching through the drawers until I find some trash bags. When I walk back in, I shove one into Hawk’s arms, and we begin to rip down the shrine to Emilia in silence.
“I wouldn’t exactly say I’m okay,” I eventually state. “But I have come to terms with everything that happened with Laura.”
“How?”
I continue to pull pictures off the walls, deliberately not taking the time to properly look at any of them as I try to find the right words to answer Hawk’s question.
“When I walked into the house that night, what Mel had done could have broken me. It nearly did. Being confronted withthat…” I swallow roughly, fighting back memories and the paralyzing helplessness that always accompanies them. “It was my worst nightmare brought to life, and for a moment, it brought me to my knees.”
“So what happened?” Hawk asks when I trail off. “How did you get back up?”
I glance over, finding him standing facing me, the trash bag in his hand forgotten as he stares at me with a hint of hope in his gaze, as though I hold any of the answers to dealing with the shit all of us have faced.
If only I did.
Instead, I can only offer him what I’ve learned.
“Knowing Emilia needed me was what gave me the strength to battle my past.” Dropping my half-filled trash bag, I glance away for a second before returning my gaze to Hawk’s. “Laura’s dead,” I state in a tone devoid of emotion. Nevertheless, my voice doesn’t waver. My heart doesn’t feel as though someone took a meat grinder to it. My breaths don’t lodge in my airway. All I feel is cool, calm acceptance. Loss, undoubtedly, but no longer the crushing grief that used to send me into a spiral. “There’s nothing I can do for her now. While I willalwayscarry guilt over her death, I can no longer allow it to impact my relationship with Emilia. If I had given into those past memories, Emilia would have died.” I choke over the final word and have to look away when I notice Hawk’s Adam’s apple bob, similar emotions gripping him.
Gritting my teeth, I shake my head. “That’s not something I willeverallow to happen. Emilia is where my focus is. My love for her has filled the hollow cavity that has laid dormant in my chest since Laura’s death. She’s the one who sealed the cracks in my heart and kick-started it into action again. The one I dream of, picture a future with. Besides, she doesn’t deserve to ever feel like she must compare herself to a ghost. For the sake of our relationship, I had to come to terms with Laura’s death and move on for good. If I hadn’t already known it before, that night made it crystal clear for me.”
In the wake of my confession, a heavy silence fills the already oppressive room. Hawk and I stare at one another for a drawn-out moment before, wordlessly, Hawk picks up his trash bag and goes back to filling it.
For a while, the two of us work in companionable silence as we systematically empty the room of all traces of Mel. Once I’ve cleared my wall, I look over at Hawk and find him frowning, seeming deep in thought.
“My trauma isn’t yours, Hawk,” I try to explain, worried in case he thinks he should already have come to terms with his trauma. “What you went through that night, it’s only reasonable that you’d carry that with you.”
Hawk shakes his head, and there’s a steely glint in his eye when he turns his head to meet my gaze. “It’s not what you think. I don’t care about what that bitch did to me.” He waves at the prominent scar along the side of his face. “The head games, the manipulation, the physical assault. None of that follows me.” His lips pinch, and he grimaces, true pain evident in his eyes. His next words are harsh and broken. “It was thinking that Emilia was going to die.”
For the first time, I watch as emotion eats Hawk alive. His face crumples, his entire posture caving inward as though the air has been knocked out of his lungs, and I could swear I see a sheen of tears glistening in his eyes. “It was watching her stride fearlessly into the kitchen even after I told her to run and knowing that we would both die. It was the terror I felt every time Mel directed a question at her and not knowing what the consequences would be if she got it wrong.” His throat bobs as he swallows, tears overflowing as they trace a path down his cheek, and his voice trembles. “It was being strapped to that goddamn chair, completely fucking helpless as I watched the only woman I’ll ever love nearly get stabbed to death.”
I’ve never seen Hawk look so shattered as he slides down the wall and collapses on the floor. Bringing his knees up, he rests his elbows on them, his face buried in his hands as his shoulders shake.
I give him a moment to gather himself because I know exactly how he’s feeling. I barely had a second to process the scene I walked in on that night. Didn’t properly take in Mel hovering over Emilia with a knife pointed directly at her heart as her hand swung downward. All I registered was the imminent threat to Emilia’s life before I pulled the trigger.
However, I frequently see that scene when I rest my head against my pillow at night. I often wonder what would have happened if I’d been a minute later or had never shown up. If I’d stayed with Wilder at the hospital, Emilia and Hawk would both be dead, and Mel would still be out there, waiting to pick off Wilder and me.
Except that’s not the case.
Ididget there in time.
Ididsave Emilia’s life.
And Ikilled Mel.
The only thing haunting us now is our memories, and somehow we all need to find a way to get past them so we can start living the lives we deserve—together.
“We survived,” I say, the words coming out more strained than I expected. Lifting his head from his hands, Hawk’s red-rimmed eyes drill into me. “All of us, we survived. We survived, and Mel didn’t.” I cough to clear my throat. “That’s what I remind myself of every time I find myself back in the kitchen that night.”
“I never did properly thank you,” Hawk says, voice hoarse and thick with overwhelming gratitude.
“You don’t need to thank me,” I say gruffly.
“I know, but still. I’ll never be able to repay you for saving her that night.”
Stalking toward him, I hold out a hand to pull him up. He easily accepts, and I pull him to his feet, the two of us sharing a clap on the back, bro-hug.
“That’s what friends who are madly in love with the same girl do for one another,” I joke with a smile, lightening the mood. I give him another clap on the back, leaving the emotional moment behind us. “Now, come on, let’s get this shit packed up so we can get back to our girl.”
