Page 115 of Made for Wilde
My knees finally give way, unable to support my weight any longer.
I slump against the wall, blood dripping onto the white tile floor. Each breath is a knife between my ribs. Something is definitely broken inside, maybe more than one thing, but I don’t care. The physical pain is nothing compared to the emotional devastation of watching my best friend’s world fall apart.
Through the haze of pain, I’m aware of Charlotte dropping to her knees beside me. Her small hands are gentle on my bloodied face. Her touch is soft, careful, full of love and concern that makes my heart ache. The protective way she cradles my broken face, the unmistakable curve of her belly beneath her uniform, the tears streaming down her cheeks.
She’s sobbing so hard she can barely breathe. “Koda. Oh no, Koda.”
I try to focus on her face. Try to show her I’m okay, even though I’m not. Even though nothing is okay.
This is what I chose. This is what I’m fighting for.
Jason stands over us, chest heaving with exertion, knuckles raw and bloody. His rage seems to have burned itself out. The fire has consumed all the fuel and left only embers behind. But something colder and more terrible remains in its wake.
His shoulders are slumped. His face is wet with tears. His hands hang at his sides, still clenched but shaking now.
He’s not angry anymore.
He’s broken.
His eyes, so like Charlotte’s in shape if not in color, stare down at me with utter revulsion. And beneath that, devastation so complete it takes my breath away more than any punch could.
For a moment, I think he might say something to Charlotte. Might acknowledge her pain in this moment, recognize that she’s hurting too. His eyes flick to her, just for a second, and something shifts in his expression. Something that might be regret or longing or love.
But then his jaw sets. His face goes hard again.
Instead, his eyes move back to me, cold with finality.
“You’re dead to me.”
He turns away and walks down the hallway without looking back. His footsteps echo in the stillness. Heavy and final. Each one taking him further away from the friendship we built over twenty years.
I watch him go through one eye, the other already swelling shut. The taste of blood fills my mouth, copper and salt mixing with the bitterness of loss.
Charlotte’s sobs break through my stupor. “Dad! Daddy, please!”
But Jason doesn’t stop. Doesn’t turn around. He just keeps walking until he rounds the corner and disappears.
Charlotte collapses against me, her whole body shaking with sobs. Her hands tremble as she tries to wipe the blood from myface. Her touch is gentle but every point of contact sends fresh pain radiating through my battered flesh.
“I’ll call an ambulance,” she whispers and reaches for her phone with shaking hands.
I shake my head and immediately regret the movement as pain lances through my skull. “No hospitals.”
“Koda, you’re hurt. Badly. You need medical attention.”
“Not as badly as he is.” I look down the empty hallway where Jason disappeared, my heart breaking for the pain I’ve caused him.
The physical damage to my body will heal. Bones knit back together. Bruises fade. Blood clots and scabs over.
The damage I’ve done to my friendship might never recover.
TWENTY-FOUR
CHARLOTTE
“Canyou make it up the stairs?” I ask, steadying Koda as we reach the front door of our cabin.
“I’m fine,” he says through gritted teeth, but his weight leans heavily against my shoulder.
