Page 14 of All the Beautiful Things
I squeezed my eyes closed. So much damn emotion in the last twenty-four hours, it threatened to undo me. When I opened them again, I voiced my largest fear. “What if she doesn’t?”
Dad gripped the back of my neck and yanked me close to him. “If you love her, you’ll get her to. I already told you that. I have no doubt you can do it. That you are the man, maybe the only one, capable of doing it.”
Dad always had so much trust and faith in me, it was overwhelming. Today, it was what I needed.
I loved her.
I could fix this.
Easy as that.
* * *
The vivid memoryof the shattered look on her face, the pain that rolled off her like an avalanche was what drew me to the fifth floor.
All day, I couldn’t escape it. Today had been the worst Thanksgiving since Melissa’s death. Where we sat around with fake smiles and tears in our eyes all while we were all lost in our heads, kicking our own asses. No one harder than me. It was a wonder my ass wasn’t bruised and sore.
This morning, she hadn’t come to the door at all.
I could listen to Dad. Let him do things his way, but hadn’t that gotten us into this mess? If we had been honest with her from the beginning like I’d wanted, all of this could have been avoided.
But then would we have her? WouldIhave her?
I settled my hand on her door. Quietly so she didn’t know I was outside her home, losing my mind because there was no way she’d allow me to help her and comfort her and take all the pain I threw at her away from her.
You lied.
She’d sounded so tortured when she said it. Her face one of shock, like she couldn’t believe me of all people could cause her so much pain. The mere memory of it lacerated my heart.
There was no sound or light or sign of life from behind her door. No stirring of movement. There was only the sense of vast emptiness coming through the thick wood door which was fitting.
I felt the same.
How had she spent the day? Was she as broken as she looked that morning? Had she seen anyone or had she spent Thanksgiving Day in pain and alone?
My head fell to the door and I stood there, shoulders heaving, chest pounding a rhythm of sorrow and regret. I wanted to tear my heart out of its cage and hand it to her, relish in the pain she’d most likely cause from stomping all over it before giving it back to me.
I deserved all of it, and I’d gladly take it if it would help Lilly feel better.
The elevator doors beeped and slid open, and I turned, pushing off her door. I might be losing my mind, but other residents in the building didn’t need to know, especially after the scene I caused this morning.
She stepped out first, one booted foot followed by another dressed in ripped and torn jeans and a sweatshirt three sizes too large for her, hiding all of her perfection.
Shit. I hadn’t meant to see her. Hadn’t actually meant to talk to her. I only wanted to leave the bag of food shoved into Tupperware and knock before I made my escape. Her head was bent to her phone, so she hadn’t yet seen me, but it was too late to leave.
“Lilly.” Her name clawed out of my throat, tripped over wire and sandpaper.
Her head whipped up and her feet stilled. She glanced at her door behind me, the bag at my feet I’d already settled there, before she did another startled scan of me and blinked.
“I thought I made myself clear this morning.”
“I’m sorry.”
She held her phone with a white-knuckled grip and readjusted her purse strap on her shoulders.
“Please move away from my door.”
I stepped to the side and shoved my hands in my pockets in fear if I didn’t I’d wrapped them around her and yank her to me, hug her until our hearts became one like they’d been less than twenty-four hours ago.
