Page 31 of Bullet
“What is normal? I don’t think you can go through something as traumatic as you did and go back to the person you were before. Every day, something changes within you. Most of the time, it’s small and you can’t see it, but eventually you look back and realize you aren’t the same person you were when you were fifteen. That is normal. You happened to go through a big change all at once. That is normal too. What you need to do is figure out who you want to be now. It’s not too late to stop the destructive behavior and start again.”
I sigh. “Bullet hates me now. He won’t even talk to me. It might be too late for me.”
She snorts as she pulls into a parking spot at the hospital. “Oh, honey. That boy does not hate you.”
“How can you be sure? He has been avoiding me all he can,” I tell her.
“Maybe, but that boy has also made it his single most important job to care for you. When your mom passed, he made it his mission to make sure you were okay. You probably don’t even remember, but he stayed at your house for the first two weeks until Honk kicked him out. He brought food and paid your bills. Actually, I’m pretty sure he is still paying your bills.”
I shake my head. “He did that for Dad.”
“No, honey. He did that for you. The club would have taken care of it for your dad. That’s what we do for members. Bulletmade it his personal burden because of you. He has always only cared for you.”
I want to believe her words so badly. I need him to care for me. I still feel like I ruined it though.
Instead of telling her that, I look up at the building again.
“I guess I should go to therapy. Did it really help you?” I ask her, remembering when she did virtual therapy.
“It did. Don’t look at the therapist as your enemy. They are a tool for you to use. Someone you can say your deepest and darkest secrets to. You can be cruel and say the things that you would never say otherwise. They won’t judge you. It’s a good way to get everything off your chest and process through all the pain.”
I let her words settle in.
“Thank you, Natalie. I’m really glad you picked me up today.”
“Me too. I won’t be here when you get out, but you’ll have a ride.”
I nod, stepping out of the car.
I’m done being an insolent child. I want to be the Harlee my mom always thought I would be.
I’ll make her proud.
It has killed me to keep my distance from Harlee, but being there hasn’t been helping her. I feel like I was trying to do the right thing by being the person she leaned on, but instead of being the rock, I was the crutch.
I want to be the one holding her as she puts herself back together, but that can’t be. Instead, I need to remove myself from the equation, as much as that kills me.
It’s why I let Natalie take her to therapy. I had hoped she might open up to her a little bit. Maybe lose some of the attitude she always has with me.
I didn’t expect a miracle, but a small step is all it takes.
Still, I can’t help but be drawn toward her. It’s why I’m here picking her up instead of the prospect.
So when she steps out of the hospital and looks around, I straighten up, waiting for her to notice me.
She looks emotionally drained. I hate that for her, but I also know it’s what needs to be done in order for her to get better.
“Hey,” she says as she walks up to me.
I nod my head once, handing her the helmet. When I climb on the bike, she climbs on behind me like it’s the most natural thing in the world. I love that feeling, even if it’s fleeting.
We don’t speak the entire trip back to her house, not that it’s easy to. When she climbs off, I don’t turn off the bike. I can’t stay. I will say too much.
She doesn’t walk inside right away, though. She stands there and looks at me with those eyes that make me want to burn the fucking world for her.
So I turn off the bike and get off against my better judgment.
“Can we talk?” she asks after a moment of silence.
