Page 24 of Four Simple Rules
“Jesse,” she growls, pushing at my shoulder, but it doesn’t budge.
“Aren’t you curious, Tulip? About what’s happened since you left?” Vulnerability leaks into my tone. You really find out who your true friends are when you’re in the hospital with a gunshot wound in the middle of summer.
“There he is, the faker,” Rhett jokes, waltzing into my hospital room with a smile. “How’s it hanging, man?” Settling beside me in an uncomfortable recliner, he leans back and studies my haggard expression.
I’m sure I look like shit. Bags hang under my eyes from the pain in my stomach. My joints ache from staying in this bed for too many days at a time. A heaviness weighs on my shoulders, souring my entire mood.
I’ve lost it all in a matter of minutes. My scholarship. My girl. My life. My everything. At least my mom is safe. I stepped in just in time to take the brunt of the bullet, sparing her life.
“Been better,” I say quietly, with a shrug.
My heart yearns for the one person I pushed away. Every day, I hope she waltzes through that door with a smile. I ache to hear her sweet words of reassurance, soothing me into a blissful night’s sleep. She’s the balm to my mood.
The only person who could lift me from this funk. But she’s gone. And I’m the one who pushed her to the brink. Me. God, I’m a fucking idiot.
“You’ve looked better, too,” he quips, kicking his feet up.
“So comforting,” I joke, earning a small chuckle.
“Thank God for your neighbor, huh?” he asks, rubbing his chin. “That one chick used to live there, right? Olivia’s friend?” He raises a brow when heat fills my cheeks.
“Blake,” I murmur. “Yeah, she used to live there. She left, though. But yeah, Mr. Reynolds…”
He heard the shot and my mother’s wails for help as my father aimed the gun right at her head. Blake’s father came running with his gun drawn, shouting at my father to put the weapon down. I remember the look Mr. Reynolds gave me when he saw me struggling on the ground, with blood seeping from my shirt.
Then, nothing. A blank hole sits in my mind from then until I got here, resting in the hospital bed.
“Hmm,” he hums, dropping the subject altogether. “Saw your pops on the news. He’s really got himself into some shit.”
“Hope he rots,” I grumble, wincing when I try to move.
“Me too,” Rhett agrees, rubbing his chin.
Blake slumps. “Why would he shoot you?” she whispers with uncertainty. Sadness drags down her face.
“Pops was a wicked man, Tulip. Every night when I rolled in through your window, it was to get away from him.” My fingers rub the spot above my heart as an ache forms deep in my chest. “I left my mom there every night to deal with him…” I trail off, shaking my head.
Guilt digs its claws in me like it always does whenever I think about my youth. I escaped the horror of my father, but my mother never could. She promised she was the one saving me.
“I remember the bruises and the blood,” she murmurs, avoiding my gaze. Her fingers twirl in the dirt in front of her, drawing circles and abstract shapes. “We never really talked about it…”
I never wanted her to know the depravity of my house.
She was invisible to her father. I was a target of mine.
“I didn’t want to go into detail,” I whisper, swallowing the lump in my throat. “I’m sorry, Blake.”
“Well, you don’t have to be sorry for not wanting to go into detail,” she says, shaking her head. “You didn’t have to tell me anything.”
“No, Blake,” I rasp. “I’m sorry for what happened back then. For everything. The rules.”
There it is. Her eyes snap to mine, filled to the brim with tears leaking down her cheeks. I hope she sees the sincerity shining through. I hope she sees the regret that’s weighed down on me since the moment she left.
“I fucked up so hard, Tulip. You have no idea.”
“No idea?” she asks with a bitter laugh. “You… You made love to me!” she hisses. “You… You took my virginity! And then... You ran away from me! And then refused to talk to me. I have some idea how hard you screwed up.”
Ah, she's still not cursing, even at twenty-eight.
