Page 20 of Beautifully Shattered (Secrets & Scars #3)

“Come all over me!” I practically yell, and he roars, his hand stopping our assault to squeeze around mine, and I feel his dick pulsing under my grip as hot white ropes of cum start spilling from his tip.

Some of it lands on me, but the water quickly washes it away, and I’m kinda disappointed. I wanted to see the evidence of his climax for a bit longer.

And just like that… I’m horny again.

Watching him come apart is something else. To know I did that to him, that I’m his spank bank material, makes me feel important. Special. And despite how aroused I am, without warning, tears spring to my eyes and I burst into tears.

Ringo curses under his breath, peeling our hands off his dick. But I’m already inconsolable, the reality of my world crashing back down on top of me, shattering me .

My legs give out, but as always, Ringo catches me, and I start blubbering, nothing making sense. Not even the thoughts in my head.

Bobbi is gone. Dead.

Others have died fighting for us. And tonight, I killed a second person. But this time, the satisfaction wasn’t what I thought it would be.

It didn’t feel like justice. It didn’t feel like enough, or maybe it felt like too much.

Oh. My. God.

I have killed two people.

Maybe Bobbi was taken from me for a reason. Maybe I’m too much of a monster to be called a mother.

I’m not worthy.

Even though I’m a snotty mess, Ringo still scoops me up, carrying me out of the shower and dries me before slipping one of his tees over my head.

I don’t deserve his love. His affection and care, but I’m too selfish to walk away.

I know I still have friends. And my little sister. But Ringo? I need him like I need air. Without him, I don’t think I can get through this.

Carrying me to his bed, Ringo’s voice is gentle as he says over and over, “I’ve got you.”

There’s so much pain inside me. So much guilt and disgust swirling together. It’s unbearable, and I just want it to stop.

I want all of it to stop.

Sliding into bed with me, Ringo cocoons me in his arms, and I soak in his love, even though I don’t deserve it .

Eventually, I cry myself to sleep, drifting into a space of nothingness where time doesn’t exist. Pain doesn’t exist.

I don’t exist.

When I wake later, Ringo is still awake, running his hand over my hair in slow, soothing strokes. He’s still here with me despite my breakdown. Despite me pushing him away so many times, I’ve lost count.

He’s here. And that means something.

“How long was I asleep?” I croak, my voice raw.

“Only thirty minutes, Angel. You should try to get some more sleep.” His lips press to the top of my head, and I burrow closer, clinging to his warmth, his scent helping to keep me together.

“Are we staying here tonight?” I mumble into his chest.

“No. The wake will end at midnight. We’ll ride home after that. But we can rest here until Jols brings you some new clothes. I’m not taking you out there wearing just my t-shirt, Angel.”

A small smile tugs at my lips, but then guilt instantly stabs me.

I need new clothes because the ones I had on were soaked in Wendy’s blood. There’s nothing funny about that.

Sure, she deserved to be punished, but did she deserve that ?

Who have I turned into that can do that so easily? That I can smile right now? That I could beat her to a pulp, drag her before an audience, and shoot her?

I cringe inwardly, self-hatred sinking its claws into my chest.

Did I really just smile, the thing I can rarely do lately, because I killed another person?

I consider that and replay Ringo’s words in my head, only to realise, the moment I smiled, I wasn’t thinking about Wendy and all the blood. I was thinking about what we did in the shower, and perhaps that’s a bigger reason to feel guilty.

I let myself feel good.

I shouldn’t feel good.

Nothing about what I did is good.

Sharing that kind of moment with Ringo almost feels wrong, because there’s nothing right in my life anymore.

“Wanna tell me what’s going through that head of yours?” Ringo asks, and I shift, peering up at him to find those whiskey eyes full of love.

How can he love me after what I did? After the monster I became, not letting him help me… and pulling a gun on him .

He should hate me.

“I’m afraid if I tell you, you’ll send me to a psych hospital.”

His lips kick up. “I’ll never fucking send you anywhere. You’re mine. And I’ll look after you until our dying day.”

Shit. He sounds like he means it, although after everything tonight, I don’t know why.

Still… it’s comforting to know someone cares that much about me.

My parents didn’t, yet here is a man, fifteen years older than me, willing to risk everything just to give me whatever pieces of himself he has left, even after the unrecognisable person I became earlier.

I don’t deserve him.

“You’ll get sick of me before that happens.” I scoff, and he just shakes his head, leaning down to press a soft kiss to my forehead .

“Never.” He shoots me a wink as he settles back against his pillow. “Now, tell me what’s going on up here.” He taps his finger gently to my temple, and I sigh.

“I feel… guilty. And confused,” I admit, my gaze dropping under the weight of my shame.

“Hey,” Ringo rasps, hooking his finger under my chin, coaxing my eyes back to his. “You’ve got nothing to feel guilty about.”

“That’s not true,” I whisper, sucking in a breath to keep my tears at bay. “I feel guilty for… enjoying myself in the shower with you.”

Tenderly brushing his thumb over my cheek, he offers me a small smile.

“That’s gonna happen sometimes. It’s normal to feel guilt when happiness sneaks in. But don’t forget, it’s part of healing.”

I wonder when his first moment of happiness was after Hope died.

“I also feel confused… about Wendy,” I admit, needing to get this off my chest. “I wanted her dead. I was sure that’s what I needed to feel better.”

“Only it didn’t, did it?” There’s no judgement in the deep gravel of his voice. No hint of ‘I told you so’ .

So, I shake my head, needing to give him this truth.

“I told Bobbi I’d kill them all,” I admit, the image of my daughter’s lifeless body flashing before my eyes. “I made her that promise at the morgue. But it doesn’t feel like enough. Killing Wendy didn’t feel like enough. I don’t get it.”

Squeezing my eyes shut, I see Wendy’s eyes right before I pulled the trigger. Her fear. Her acceptance that death was coming for her. The hatred she wore like a second skin, right up until her last breath .

“That’s the thing, Angel. Nothing will be enough. Because nothing can bring Bobbi back.”

Hot tears sting as they fall. I have no control over them as Ringo’s words settle deep into the hollow ache inside me.

Nothing I do will ever bring Bobbi back.

“It hurts so much,” I whimper, and Ringo’s hand slips behind my head, guiding me to his chest, holding me tight.

“I know, Angel. I know.”

I feel like all I do is cry lately. Like every tear is laced into every breath I take.

It was there before Bobbi died, but since then… I fear I’ll never stop.

My husband holds me through it, neither of us saying a word, the silence a welcome comfort. A safe place for me to fall apart.

I ride the emotional rollercoaster I can’t seem to find a way off of, wondering if there will ever be a day where the pain doesn’t strangle me.

By the time my tears dry up, I’m drained, and my drowsy eyes flutter closed, chasing a reprieve.

“Ringo?” I murmur against his chest, and he grunts in response, so I continue before I lose my nerve. “When are you going to get mad at me for killing Wendy?”

“Not tonight, Angel. But make no mistake. We’re going to have a very fucking serious talk about it,” his voice rumbles. “About how I get the feeling you planned to take things into your own hands all along.”

I stiffen at being caught, but then he presses his lips to my hair in a soft kiss, and I know that even though he’s mad, he still cares about me.

It feels very… unconditional .

Something I’m not used to.

“Right now, though, all I want is for you to remember what it feels like to be safe in my arms.” He strokes my back in comfort, and I nod against him, tightening my hold around his middle, burrowing into his side.

At some point, I must drift off again, floating through a weightless, dreamless space… because the next thing I know, I’m rousing to what sounds a lot like… panting.

Tensing, my eyes snap open to find myself spooned back against Ringo’s chest, and only feet from where we lay are two figures writhing in the other bed.

“Shhh.” Ringo’s hot breath fans quietly over my ear. “They think we’re asleep.”

As the sleep clears from my eyes, I blink until the figures make sense.

It’s JD… and Jols.

Oh .

Snapping my eyes shut, because now I feel like a peeping Tom, my heart races at the sight of watching other people together despite all the sex I’ve seen play out at the Western.

But this is different. We are in an enclosed space. This feels private. Intimate in a way that feels like we’re trespassing.

And then, just when I think Ringo is surely going to pull the blanket over my head and cut off the sight, he leans close and whispers in my ear.

“Keep watching, Angel.”