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

A bbey’s parting words to her little girl are haunting me. Echoing in my head, refusing to let go. What gets me isn’t just the words. It’s the quiet certainty in her voice, like she’s already made peace with them. Like she’s decided on an ending she won’t come back from.

Lexi West She’s grieving. She just needs time to heal.

I keep staring at Lexi’s message. She sent it after leaving last night. After spending the whole damn day holding her friend close as she unravelled. I watched Lexi hold her together through every drop of the emotional rollercoaster Abbey is suffering through.

Today, Abbey’s a ghost. Quiet. Still. Sometimes she cries, but it’s so soft I wouldn’t even know unless I caught a glimpse at her face.

And even then, I’ve got to fight to see it, because that face is rarely turned my way anymore. Like she can’t bear to look at me. Like she hates the very sight of me.

Fuck… I can feel her slipping through my fingers.

I think I’m losing her.

Standing from my chair, I round the bed so I can see her, and the moment she clocks me getting close, she turns her head, shutting me out once again.

“I know I’m an ugly fucker, but you never used to have trouble looking at me.”

She scoffs, but that’s it.

Rounding the bed again, she starts to turn her head away, but I lurch forward, gripping her chin roughly.

“Stop trying to ignore me.”

Her eyes flare, hot and wild, like she’s two seconds away from punching me.

Maybe she fucking should.

“I know you’re angry, bu—”

She scoffs again, louder this time, rolling her eyes like I’m pathetic.

“What? You don’t think I understand the fucking pain you’re in?” I shove back from her, releasing her chin, my fists balled and teeth gritted as I itch to break something. “You don’t think I know what it’s like to see my dead daughter? To hold her? TO FUCKING GRIEVE HER! ”

Abbey flinches, tears quickly pooling in her eyes, but still, they hold nothing but fury as she glares at me from under her lashes, like she’s imagining my death in vivid detail.

“You want me gone, Angel?” I ask, holding my hands out at my sides, not fucking sure what else I can do to get her to talk to me. “You wish you’d never met me?”

“Yes!” she snarls, sitting upright as she bares her teeth. “I wish Maggie had never found that pregnancy test and told my mum! I wish Tahli had never reached out to Lexi for help! I wish Lexi had never asked you to kidnap me! I wish everyone would just leave me alone!”

I nod, knowing she doesn’t really mean her words. She’s angry. She’s lashing out. She’s hurting beyond belief and doesn’t know where to direct it.

I can fucking relate to that.

“How fucking awful that your little sister cared so much about you that she reached out to your best friend for help.” I roll my eyes, knowing it will piss her off, but at least she’s not silent anymore.

At least I’ve managed to crack something open.

“How fucking unbelievable that Lexi would reach out to me knowing I could do what she couldn’t, even after everything you did to her to push her away. ”

“Fuck you!” she snarls.

“You wanna hit me, Angel?”

“Yes!”

I chuckle darkly. “Have at it.” I hold my arms out again, daring her, but she doesn’t move. “What’s wrong? You don’t think your anger can make your swings hurt? Because your words sure hit the fucking mark. ”

Her face falls, that tough mask starting to crack as her lower lip starts trembling, yet her glare remains.

“You wanna hurt the people that care about you the most? Then come on. I’m right fucking here, Abbey. Loving you despite the hate you glare my way, like you wish I was the one that died.”

“You should leave,” she snaps, and again, I chuckle.

“No way in fucking hell am I leaving you. You’re fucking stuck with me, Angel. Whether you want me or not. I meant every goddamn word of our vows.” I raise a brow. “Do you remember them?”

“I don’t care about them,” she bites back, and I shrug, even though her words fucking sting.

“Pity. Because I do. I vowed to honour you, and respect our differences. I swore I’d cherish the good times and ride out the fucking storms. Hand in fucking hand, Angel.

Side by fucking side.” I step closer, and my chest tightens when she doesn’t try to shift back, not taking her eyes off me, where before, she couldn’t even bear to look at me.

“This is one hell of a massive fucking storm. So even if you scream for me to go, I’m not leaving your side. ”

For a long beat, she just stares at me, her brow starting to furrow with each passing moment.

“Our marriage isn’t real,” she spits, and this time I scoff, fucking done with that lie.

“Isn’t it?” I growl. “It sure felt real to me. You fighting your demons and giving yourself to me on our wedding night sure felt fucking real, too. So did the days that followed. The way it fucking hurt both of us when I had to leave you at my ma’s to go and do club shit and start hunting the bastards that raped you. That was fucking real, Angel. ”

I sit back in the chair, dragging it closer, not taking my eyes off her as her glare starts slipping slightly.

“How about the video calls each night?” I lean forward, resting my forearms on my knees. “You falling asleep mid-call while I spent most of the night just staring at the screen. Watching you snore and drool.”

Her anger finally crumbles.

She’s so young. So innocent. She hasn’t deserved anything that’s happened to her. And fuck, those big doe caramel eyes are like a window into her shattered soul right now.

“How about when I came back and found you out in the storm?” My voice softens as I see a glimpse of the girl that I first met. “You fucking ran to me, Abbey. You were as desperate to be in my arms as I was to have you in them. There’s nothing fake about that. Not a single fucking thing.”

“I don’t snore,” she whispers, and my lip kicks up at one corner.

“You do. And it’s fucking adorable.”

She shakes her head, her eyes dropping to her fidgeting hands.

“I’m angry,” she whispers.

“I know.”

“I want everyone to hurt,” she admits quietly.

“I know, Angel.”

Her caramel eyes flick back up to mine, wounded and raw. “How can you love me when I’m so nasty to you?”

Shifting forward, I take her hand in mine, half expecting her to pull away. But she doesn’t. That alone nearly knocks the wind out of me .

“Because I know you don’t really mean it. What you’re feeling… it’s natural. Wanting someone to pay? That’s normal.”

She shakes her head slowly. “I want everyone to pay. I want to grab a flamethrower and burn the entire world down until there’s nothing but ash.”

I nod, because fuck, I remember that. I remember being so full of fire I could have destroyed cities.

“In time, that rage will redirect to just those who actually deserve it.”

She considers that for a few long beats, gnawing on her lip while she thinks.

“What do I do with the anger until that happens?” she asks, her caramel eyes wide and wrecked, like she’s drowning, and she doesn’t even care.

Fuck.

What I would do to carry her suffering for her.

“You need an outlet.” I hold my arms out again. “Use me as your punching bag all you like.”

Rolling her eyes, she falls back onto her pillow with a sigh. “I’m not going to do that.”

“Why the fuck not?”

We stare at each other for a long, loaded moment before she finally answers.

“I don’t really want to hurt you.”

Fuck. Hearing that is a fucking relief.

I’d been bracing for the worst, thinking maybe I’d already lost her. But perhaps not.

“I know, Angel. ”

Her tears finally spill over, sliding down her temples and into her hair as she stares up at the ceiling, her hands pressed to her chest.

It takes me a moment, but then I realise… the way her fingers curl like she is holding something fragile… like she’s holding Bobbi again. Just like she did in that pine forest. Only this time, Bobbi isn’t here. She’s holding nothing but a ghost.

“I think…” she chokes out, her voice barely there, “I think I’m angriest at myself.” Her eyes flick back to mine, wet and full of unimaginable pain. “I wasn’t strong enough to protect Bobbi.”

Her hands fall to her sides, releasing something that was never really there.

Shaking my head, I stand and climb onto the bed next to her, tugging her into my arms. She shifts to give me room without hesitation, letting me pull her close. Finally letting me hold her like I’ve been dying to do.

“Don’t talk like that, Angel,” I whisper into her hair. “You’ve done nothing but fight for her. And you still are.” My throat tightens, thick with emotion. “I heard what you said to her.”

She presses in closer, curling into me, and fuck, it feels so fucking good to feel her hand on my chest and her breath on my neck as she finally lets me get close to her.

“I meant what I said to her,” she admits into the crook of my neck, her voice husky and raw from her own emotions.

“I know.”

“All of it.” She pushes the point. “I meant it.”

I know what she’s getting at.

She’s not just grieving. She’s planning her exit.

She wants me to understand that when her vengeance is done, she doesn’t want to keep going .

She wants to leave this world. To rest eternally with Bobbi.

The thought has invisible claws tearing through my chest, shredding everything on the way to my fucking heart.

“I know,” I whisper, my voice rough as I stroke fingers through her hair, holding her tight against me. “But maybe… when that time comes, you’ll see it differently. You’ll see that moment as the start of something new, Angel. Not the end of everything.”

She sobs again, finally breaking completely in my arms, and I hold her, even as my own eyes sting and my chest threatens to cave.

She cries for what feels like hours, and all I can do is let her purge the pain like this. There’s nothing else I can do.

I can’t bring Bobbi back.

I can’t erase the hell she’s been through.

I can’t fix this.

But… I can be here.

A warm embrace. A shoulder to cry on. A safe place to land.

A human punching bag, if that’s what she needs.

Whatever she needs, I’ll give it. Over and over until the day she wakes up, and the pain isn’t so suffocating.

It’ll never leave her. But maybe one day she’ll learn how to live with it.

And that… is probably the hardest part of all.

Eventually, Abbey falls into a deep sleep, and I manage to slip from the bed without waking her.

My phone has been buzzing non-stop in my back pocket, so I duck out of the room and hit redial, calling Smitty back.

“Bout fucking time,” he answers, and fuck, if I could reach through the phone and strangle him, I fucking would.

“Insensitive much?” I snap, and he sighs.

“Sorry. Fuck. How is she?”

“Bout as fucking good as anyone in her situation.”

“Yeah. Poor kid. She’s too fucking sweet to be facing this sort of shit.”

I grunt, mainly because him calling her a kid just rubs me the wrong fucking way.

She’s not a kid. She’s a goddamn warrior. A mother who lost her baby.

“You called?” I bite out, not in the fucking mood for Smitty’s usual brand of chaos.

“Yeah. All the funerals are set for Wednesday. Just wanted to check if your woman wants to have her kid’s funeral at the same time.”

“No,” I snap, ice in my voice as fury lights up my fucking chest.

The fuck is he thinking?

Does he believe she’d want to lump Bobbi’s farewell in with the rest? Like it’s just another fucking name on the list?

She’s not just grieving. My Angel is gutted.

And he fucking thinks she’d give a single fuck about anyone else’s funeral right now?

“My wife will arrange her own funeral for her daughter.”

“Yeah. Okay. I figured, but… well fuck, I dunno.”

He sounds unsure for once, and it almost makes me feel bad.

“Where are the funerals taking place?” I ask instead of acknowledging his insensitivity.

Is it even insensitivity? Or am I just looking for someone to throw my own rage at?

“At the new compound,” Smitty responds. “We’ve set up a memorial area. Our fallen will be cremated before Wednesday, and their ashes will be placed in the memorial wall during the ceremony.”

Shit.

I rub my hand down over my face.

I need to get my head outta my arse.

People fucking died.

Good people.

Important people.

People who wore our patch and called me brother.

People I fucking cared about.

My gut twists, the weight of it finally catching up with me.

So many have died.

For my club.

For me.

For Abbey.

“I’ll be there,” I rasp, hating how obvious the emotion is in my voice. “Just text me the time.”

“And will your wife be there?” he asks, like her presence is expected.

“If she’s well enough,” I mutter. “I’m sure Abbey would want to go. She built close ties with a few of them.”

Fuck. How’s she even going to handle that news? Grieving her daughter and now fallen friends, too?

The weight of it all presses down, getting heavier by the fucking second.

Glancing up, I stiffen as my eyes lock onto a group of people coming my way.

“Shit, Smitty. I’ve gotta go. I’ve got company.”