Page 133 of Angels and Skulls
“Jenny, I only got out because I had help. I had Dirk and the club. You had no one.”
“I had Lily, and then Rachel, and Bill.” She closes her eyes. “I should have come home. I’m so stupid. I should have come home.”
I catch her right before she falls to the ground. I lower us the rest of the way, cradling her head against my chest. Her sobs kill me. They literally kill me. The sound coming from her is so heartbreakingly sad. But it’s true. She should have come home. I don’t know how that would have looked for us, but at least she would have been home with her parents and son.
“Dad?” Jackson’s voice trembles. The sound of his mother’s mournful wails has him frozen by the door.
“She’s okay, Son.”
He shifts from foot to foot, anxiously rubbing his hands together.
“Go on home. I’ll call you later.”
He nods, backing away with tears in his eyes. I know he’ll be fine once he gets home to Willow, and I’ll ask Jesse to check on him as soon as I can.
Seeing someone you love in so much pain is scary.
I let her get it all out. A few club members peak their head out from time to time, silently asking if I need help. I just shake my head because there is nothing anyone can do for her. All I can do is care for her while she goes through it. She’s grieving the life she could have had.
I’m not sure how much time passes before her sobs become quieter, calmer. I wait until they completely stop before I speak.
“Jenny, they fucked with your head so hard that you are not to blame for the choice you made. But it is okay to grieve the life they stole from you … from us. I think we all feel a level of sadness about that, but we have to try our best to stay present. If we don’t, they will continue to rob us.”
She keeps her eyes averted as I pick her up and carry her upstairs.
I set her on the bathroom counter when we get to our room.
When I turn the water on in the tub, she turns her head toward the sound. She stares, unseeing, as the water rushes out of the faucet. I send Jesse a text and then Jackson.
“I don’t want to take a bath,” she says, her voice hoarse and gritty.
“Okay, you can watch me,” I say, stepping between her legs and placing my hands on each side of her neck, massaging her gently.
She chuckles sadly. “You’re such a tease.”
“Hey, the offer to join me still stands.”
“Oh, ow,” she hisses, tipping her head to the side.
“You let go of a lot tonight. You’re going to feel it tomorrow if we don’t work it out. Let me help you. Let me take care of you, baby.”
She’s so drained she doesn’t have it in her to put up a fight. “Fine,” she says with a tiny bit of sass.
I shake her lightly. “I have missed you,” I tell her.
Her eyes slowly roll up to mine, and she whispers, “I missed you so much that there were days I couldn’t get out of bed.”
I take off my clothes and then remove hers. When I pick her up, I whisper back, “I missed you so much I would close my eyes and pretend you were lying beside me.”
Carefully, I climb into the tub, settling her between my legs.
She relaxes against my chest, the warm water soothing her. “I missed you so much I looked for you in every face I passed on the street.”
We continue to go back and forth, admitting all the ways we dealt with our longing for each other.
She intertwines our fingers, pausing a long moment. “I missed you so much I prayed they would kill me,” she says so quietly, I can barely hear her.
“Me too,” I whisper back, squeezing her tight.
