Of course, this might not be the best time to bring this up, but I’ve noticed Maddox disappearing a lot since we got here. His four-hour grocery run the other day wasn’t the first time.
“Nope,” he tells me, exaggerating the word.
“You know if you don’t tell me, I’ll draw my own conclusions, right?”
“And you’d probably be right.” It’s his way of confirming what I already know.
“Bloody hell, Maddox, why?”
“Because nothing else works anymore. I just don’t want to feel. I don’t want to feel anything. Even the times with you stopped working a long time ago. I just kept going because you needed it.”
“You need help.”
“We both do. I don’t see either of us running to get it. Do you?”
“Let’s go. The kids are all upstairs. Angel brought the car around.” Dane says, ending the conversation.
“I can drive myself,” I gripe. “It’s not that bad.”
“Yes, it is, jackass,” Dane growls. “I swear on all that’s holy, I’ve never met two more self-destructive people in my life.”
“What did I do?” Maddox laughs as we go through the house.
“Nothing today that we know of. Cami and Josephine said they’d clean up your mess by the way.”
“I’ll buy them some new shoes as thanks.” A groan leaves me as I climb into Maddox’s SUV. Maddox climbs into the driver’s seat as Dane climbs in the back. “I don’t need an entourage.”
“Shut the hell up. And by the way, they said a pair of shoes won’t cut it. You better be thinking bigger,” Dane slams the back door with a grumble.
Two hours later,I’m lyingon a bed in the emergency room while they decide how to approach my problem. Two hours is a lot of time when all you can do is sit and think. Although, for me, that’s pretty much all the time and in everything I do. But it’s different when Imustbe calm.
“Ryder.” I open my eyes to find worried green ones looking at me.
“What are you doing here?” I ask with surprise.
“I called her,” Maddox says, stepping up behind her. “Figured it would be a great place for you two to talk. Fighting here wouldn’t be appreciated, I’m sure.”
She runs her eyes over me. The cut over my eye has been stitched. My hands have been wrapped until they get x-rays back todecideif anything’s been broken. The glass still protrudes from my side. The bleeding has slowed, which I’m hoping is a good thing and doesn’t mean I’m about to die.
But the tears in her eyes when she sees it? Well, that cuts deeper than any piece of glass could. I want to yell at Maddox for calling her. She shouldn’t see this. But I have decided in the last few hours totryto chill out.
“Don’t cry, pixie. I’ll be fine.”
“I’m going back out with Dane. Try not to kill each other.” He turns to leave then pauses. “Actually, if you’re going to, here is the best place for it, so have at it. Work your shit out.” That last dig was at me.
Heaven lingers at the door after he’s gone. She looks nervous and worried. “You didn’t have to come,” I tell her to assuage any guilt she may be feeling. “I’ll be fine.”
“Why?” she asks quietly.
My head tilts. I don’t understand the question. I blame the pain killers. “Why what, Heaven?”
“Why did you hurt yourself?” More tears fill her eyes. In nearly forty-eight hours, I’ve seen her four times. Every single time, she has cried. Cried because of me.
“Come here, pixie,” I tell her. Her bottom lip wobbles as she steps forward. “Heaven, you know I’ve always lashed out, usually at myself but sometimes others when I’m pissed. Especially when other—techniques don’t work.” She winces at the last comment but doesn’t respond otherwise. “Tonight,was one of those nights. You need to understand something. When you left, all that was left was anger. And it grew. More and more every day. I pushed it down and pushed it down, until there was nowhere left to shove it. Seeing you the other day, it was like you pulled the cork off a bottle of champagne. I wasn’t lying when I said I broke the day you left. Buttonight,wasn’t your fault. It was never your fault. I just didn’t know it at the time.”
“If I hadn’t unloaded on you —”
“No. I needed to hear all of that. I’ve never been able to hear anything without a fight. When I got back to the house, I went downstairs to the punching bag and raged. Until I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I suddenly realized I hated the person looking back at me. I hate the feelings of worthlessness my mother poisoned me with. I hate that I am the kind of person that is so damaged and broken that I react to everything like I’m being attacked. I hate that so much was stolen from us. And I hate every time I ever hurt you.”
