Page 8 of Beautifully Shattered (Secrets & Scars #3)

S tanding by the windows in the living room, I stare out across the deck of the lake house to the twin rustic bathtubs, both of them occupied, a man in each soaking in steamy sudsy water like it’s perfectly normal to take a bath outside in full view.

Their backs are to me, and I can hear the deep baritone of their voices as they talk and laugh.

One of them is Brody, and to be honest, I’m relieved to see him. I had no idea what happened after Ian Allen drugged me in Ringo’s bedroom. For all I knew, they’d killed everyone before taking off with me.

But here he is. JD’s little brother, laughing and joking like the world isn’t shattering around us.

I guess it isn’t shattering around him.

Only me.

There’ s nothing right about any of this. That’s the only thing I know for sure.

The other guy, I’m pretty sure, is the one who tattooed our names on our fingers on our wedding day. Vender, I think his name is.

There’s another guy I don’t recognise, sitting out on the deck, handing Brody a beer from a cooler, and the rest of the men are sprawled out, talking shit and acting like this is just another typical Tuesday.

Stocky, Murf and Trunk are among them, and seeing their familiar faces is the slightest comfort.

Mule isn’t here, though. The man that watched over me when Ringo left me behind at his family home. My silent shadow. I wonder where he is. Did he get out unscathed, or is he… one of the dead?

The thought makes me feel sick. No one deserved to die, but some did.

I just don’t know who. I haven’t made the effort to ask, and I don’t know if it’s because I just can’t bear any more suffering, or if I just don’t care.

I guess I’ll find out tomorrow when we go to the compound. When the club will gather to farewell their dead in joint funerals.

I don’t really want to go, but I probably should. They died because of me. The least I can do is honour their sacrifice.

Ringo hasn’t noticed me standing here, watching them like they’re characters on a TV screen.

He’s over by the railing, his knuckles still torn up, dried blood crusted over the scabs forming after he lost his shit yesterday.

I don’t blame him. I’m not angry at him for losing control like that. I’m kind of jealous I couldn’t do the same.

He didn’ t like hearing about what Ian did to me, and well… I didn’t like living through it.

Just another memory I have to try to suppress I suppose.

JD has a bruise blooming under his left eye from one of the few hits Ringo managed to land. I’d been worried they were about to have a full punch-on, but JD simply tried to wrangle his best mate, and with Murf’s help, they dragged him off somewhere to cool down.

I haven’t seen him since… until now.

Maybe… maybe the thought of how many men have fucked me is too much for him.

Maybe I’m nothing but damaged goods, and now he’s trying to figure out how to cut his losses.

Maybe he’s finally realising I’m not worth all the shit I’ve brought down on him and his club.

He’d be right.

“You gonna go out and join them?”

Jols’ voice startles me, and I spin to see her taking the last step down from the staircase.

I shake my head.

“Don’t worry about Brody and Vender. You’ve seen both of them naked before at the Western,” she points out with a shrug, and I turn back to peer out at Ringo.

As if he can feel me watching, his eyes flick up to lock with mine, and I wait for some kind of emotion to show on his face.

There’s nothing… Just a blank, unreadable stare.

“I think I’m gonna go lie down,” I mumble, turning away from the dark gaze I wish could still love me despite everything. Despite how tainted I am.

As I pass Jols, her hand snaps out, gripping my arm and stopping me in my tracks.

“I’m not gonna pretend I know what you’re going through,” she states, levelling her blue eyes with mine. “But remember back at the Western? When you realised there was something I could understand? That I’d been through something similar, too? That we bonded over it?”

Slowly, I nod, the burn at the back of my eyes threatening to give me away.

“Yeah. So?”

“Well, I might not understand what you’re going through right now,” she releases my arm, turning to face me fully, “but there’s someone who does. Maybe not exactly, because everyone’s experience is their own, but he’s standing right outside.”

Her gaze flicks to the window and mine follows, landing on him.

Ringo.

“Ringo’s been patient with you. He’s taken care of you.

He’s fought for you. He knows what it’s like to lose a child.

He had to bury his little girl. Had to witness the vulgar way she was brought into this world.

He never got to hold her while she was still alive.

” She sighs, her eyes falling distant, like she’s remembering a time a few years before I even met him.

“I’m not saying his situation is more tragic.” Her eyes shift back to mine as I try to swallow the thick lump forming in my throat. “But I am saying that he knows. He understands. And he loves you. Ringo would do anything for you. But he can’t if you keep pushing him away.”

“I’m not pushing him away,” I snap, frowning, but then, a twist of dread coils in my stomach. “Am I? ”

“You are,” she says without hesitation. “You’re drowning in your anger.

And yeah, it’s fucking valid. Without a doubt.

But just don’t forget that you’ve got people who care about you.

People who love you and want to help.” Jols rakes her fingers through her sleek, dark hair, another sigh escaping her like it’s been trapped in her chest for too long.

“Life is fucking hard on a good day, Abbey. And what happened to you… well, there aren’t words big enough for how incredibly unfair and tragic it is.

For the way your parents have treated you.

For what those men did to you. And now, losing Bobbi too?

That’s a different kind of hell.” Jols pauses, her eyes softening, and it’s not until now that I feel tears trickling down my cheeks.

“But life can still be good. Just look at Ringo. He somehow managed to keep going after Hope died. He found a purpose. Something to live for, and he held on with both hands, even when he thought he wasn’t strong enough anymore.

And then… one day, out of the blue, he kidnapped a blonde girl covered in blood.

” Her lips twitch into a ghost of a smile. “And he fell in love with her.”

My throat thickens as fresh tears well in my eyes, my heart hurting for a different reason. A reason that isn’t all about Bobbi.

“So maybe you could take some time to focus on what you still have.” She nods her head towards the window, and my gaze follows, landing on Ringo again. “You’ve lost something massive, Abbey. A piece of your heart that will never heal, but you still have something worth living for.”

She points out the window before reaching down to give my hand a squeeze, the simple gesture nearly breaking me .

“You still have friends. You still have a little sister who needs you. There’s a whole world waiting for you… if you’d just let it in.”

Shit.

She’s right. I know she is, yet I can’t make myself admit that out loud.

Tahli still needs me. She’s not safe with my parents. Not in that church. Not with Maggie so brainwashed, determined to sacrifice everything for the cult.

I’ve got Lexi, and Jared, and Marcus. And the other guys, too.

I have new friends I never expected. Like Jols, standing right here, refusing to let me hide.

And then there’s Ringo.

He’s something else entirely.

“Where did Ringo sleep last night?” I ask instead of admitting my feelings, and her brows shoot up. “Because after he lost it, I didn’t see him again. Did he leave? Go somewhere?”

Her face falls. “JD and Vender took him to Griffin’s. A few houses down.”

“He hates me now,” I whisper, my eyes dropping to my feet like maybe the floor will swallow me whole.

“No, he doesn’t. He’s not avoiding you because he hates you,” she says softly. “He’s avoiding you because he thinks he failed you . He blames himself for not protecting you. For putting the club first.”

My eyes flick back up to hers.

“He didn’t know what was going to happen.”

“No, but it doesn’t make him blame himself any less.” She reaches out and gives my shoulder a squeeze .

“You two need to talk. I think you’ll find you’re actually both on the same page.”

Is she right?

Are we on the same page?

Does he still… care for me?

A few days ago, I would have said it didn’t matter if he did or not. I was too far gone after waking up to learn about Bobbi’s death. Too far gone when I switched something off inside me and killed a man.

But seeing him flip out yesterday, and having this conversation with Jols… well, now I’m not sure about anything I thought I knew.

When Jols excuses herself and heads outside to join the guys, I consider following. Just walking out there and pretending I’m part of their world again… but my feet won’t move in that direction.

There’s music and chatter and laughter, and I just can’t be around happiness right now.

What is there to be happy about?

Why is the world still turning when my version of it has stopped, frozen in time, caught in the vicious loop of memories I can’t outrun?

Holding my little girl… and then being told she is dead.

It’s a never-ending reel in my head.

Not able to deal with anything else right now, I go upstairs and sleep most of the day. It’s easier than sitting in silence, trapped in my own thoughts.

I want to go on a killing spree and tear the world apart. But I know I’m not ready.

Not physically, at least.

I’m still bleeding. My breasts are sore and engorged, because even though Bobbi died, my milk has still come in, and I don’t know what to do about that.

Who do I even ask? Should I even do something?

I’ve thought about asking to borrow someone’s phone to call Ayden’s mum, Andrea, but I just can’t bring myself to go through all the questions or hear the sympathy in her voice.

I just… can’t.