"You didn’t deserve this. Not what happened with Young. Not the weight your mom put on your shoulders. Not any of it."
My voice broke, just a little.
"I’m sorry I wasn’t there. I’m sorry I didn’t see how far gone you were. And I’m sorry I let you believe you were alone."
I stared at her for a long moment.
"I don’t know if it means anything, but… I love you, Brit. I have for a long time. And I hate myself for not saying it sooner. For not showing it better."
The room was quiet again. She still didn’t move. I sighed, brushing her knuckles softly with mine.
Then I leaned down slowly and kissed her forehead. A soft, lingering kiss.
But it wasn’t enough.
My lips found hers.
It was gentle. A whisper of a kiss. Like a promise.
A promise that I would be better.
A promise that she wasn’t alone anymore.
A promise that the next time someone tried to break her, they’d have to go through me first.
I pulled back, brushing my thumb lightly across her cheek.
"Sleep, Brit. I’ll be here when you wake up. I’m not going anywhere."
And I stayed. The entire night. Watching her breathe. Listening to the steady beep of the monitor. Waiting for morning light to prove that this wasn’t the end.
It was only the beginning.
Chapter 12
Brittany
The Past — Age 19
It’s been a week since the accident. A week since I slammed Jasper’s car into a tree hoping the impact would quiet the noise in my head.
But instead, I woke up tangled in hospital sheets, stitched together on the outside and shattered within. And now, they all want to fix me.
“Brittany, would you like to share how you’re feeling today?”
Dr. Reynolds’ voice floats softly through the room, as if he’s afraid to frighten me away. I sit curled into the corner of the couch in his office, a blanket draped around my shoulders. The soft ticking of the clock on the wall is the only sound I hear as I pick at the hem of my sleeve, pretending I didn’t hear him.
He waits, like he always does. Patient. Calm. But I have nothing to say. I don’t even know what I’m feeling. Numb. Hollow. Exhausted.
My stomach twists, and I instinctively pull the blanket tighter. I skipped breakfast. And lunch. Again. I know Jasper is going to lecture me, but the thought of food makes me sick. Maybe if I can shrink myself small enough, perfect enough, the world will finally leave me alone.
Dr. Reynolds sighs quietly. “We can try again next time.”
I stand up before he even dismisses me, mumbling a soft, “Thank you,” as I slip out the door.
The ride home with Jasper is silent, like it always is now. He glances over at me every few minutes, his jaw clenched, his hands gripping the steering wheel.
“You didn’t eat today,” he says finally, his voice low but tight.
