Page 9 of Beautifully Shattered (Secrets & Scars #3)

So instead of dealing with all of that, I sleep.

It’s a little after 11pm when I wake again, hungry, but not enough to want to eat once I remember Bobbi is gone, leaving me to live in this harsh reality.

The room is empty. Ringo still hasn’t come to me, and I’m beginning to think Jols didn’t know what she was talking about.

If he truly cared, he’d be here… right?

Shit, what do I know?

Getting out of bed, I check over the black clothes Jols gave me yesterday to wear to the Southern Sadists’ funerals tomorrow.

Now that my bump has somewhat deflated, it’s easier to fit into her things, even though they are still a little snug and nowhere near the style of anything I would normally choose for myself.

But as I look at the black leather, I have to admit, right now, they match the darkness swirling through my veins like thick, suffocating smoke.

Black is the colour of mourning, after all.

Moving to the window, I glance down at the far corner of the back deck to see if the guys are still out there, but it’s all dark and silent, like everyone has already gone to bed.

My heart sinks.

Ringo’s not here .

He’s not sleeping with me again.

Maybe I really have pushed him away for good.

That thought cuts deeper than I expected. More painful than I can handle, and I realise I really do need Ringo.

I need his love. His strength. His stupid protective growl and the way his hands soften when they touch me like I’m something fragile.

I need him.

Even more than that… I want him.

“Where are you?” I whisper into the dark room, and as if I’ve conjured him out of thin air, I spot the silhouette of a man standing down on the bank, by the water.

My heart does a little flip. The kind I felt weeks ago when my world hadn’t completely crumbled.

But then… it sinks to the pit of my gut as I watch him stagger to his knees like his legs aren’t strong enough to hold him up anymore, his hands fisting in his hair like he’s trying to rip the strands from the roots.

I spin, my heart hammering as I run from the room, taking two steps at a time, ignoring the snore coming from the couch as I dash past.

My fingers fumble with the latch on the glass door a few times before it releases, and I slide it open, bolting out into the night.

My heart, the one I thought dead only minutes ago, thrashes wildly in my chest as I race across the deck and down the steps, the icy chill of the damp grass soaking my bare feet as I start running across the yard.

As I get closer, my feet slow. The sound of gut-wrenching sobs rips through the quiet, so raw and broken as he kneels, slumped and defeated on the sandy bank of the lake .

This…

This is pure heartbreak.

My own sob works its way up my throat, but I hold it in, totally crushed to see… to hear the strongest man I know, completely falling apart.

Did I do that to him?

Did I break his heart?

“C-Cam?” I breathe, but he must hear, his panicked, tear-soaked eyes snap up, locking to mine just a few metres away.

“Angel?” he chokes out, and the sob I was holding in rips from me as I launch forward just as he stands.

He catches me, like he always does, wrapping me up as I throw myself into his arms.

“I’m so sorry.” I cry into his neck, clinging to him like I’m drowning. “I didn’t mean to be such a bitch.”

My legs wrap around his middle as he lifts me, holding me like he’ll never let go.

“I’m sorry I’m so damaged . Please don’t hate me. Please don’t give up on me.”

“ Fuck, Angel,” he rasps into my hair. “I love you. I’ll never hate you. I’ll never give up on you.”

I pull back, stunned by his declaration.

“You… you really love me?” I ask, not sure if I heard him right, because surely he doesn’t.

Not after everything I’ve put him through.

He holds me tight, one arm locked around me, the other hand cradling my face like I’m precious.

“I really fucking love you, Abbey. I know it doesn’t make sense. The short time, the age difference… fucking everything that’s ha ppened. But fuck, why does it have to make sense? It feels more right than anything I’ve ever felt.”

Tears pour down my cheeks as I stare into his eyes, or what I can see of them in the faint light coming from the jetty.

“I love you, too,” I whisper. “I think I have for a while now, but I was too scared to tell you. I thought you’d just see me as young and dumb.”

“Fucking never,” he rasps, shaking his head. “There’s nothing dumb about you. You’re fucking everything .”

Another sob lurches from my lips, right before he claims them.

It’s a wet, salty kiss, laced with grief and suffering, but also, a thread of something else too.

Something like hope. Like maybe we aren’t too far gone.

Our tongues clash, hungry and desperate, like they’re fighting for more.

More of what? I don’t know, but I just know I need him.

I need to crawl under his skin, wrap myself around his soul, and stay there . Forever.

When Ringo pulls back, I whimper, and his thumbs brush over my cheeks, wiping away the mess of tears like he wants to erase my pain.

“Can I come to bed, Angel?” His voice breaks as he speaks, his emotions still raw. “Can I hold you in my arms tonight?”

I nod frantically. “Please.”

“ Fuck ,” he breathes, pressing his forehead to mine. “I thought I’d fucking lost you. I didn’t know how to get you back.”

“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I’m still here. Kind of.”

Easing back just enough to see my face, he nods.

“I know things aren’t the same. Your life has changed forever. But maybe… hopefully, we can find a new normal. Together.”

I gulp.

I want that. I want him. But every time I think of Bobbi, I can’t see how I’m meant to go on.

So, I just nod.

Not because I’m trying to reassure him… I can’t. But because I simply don’t know what my future even looks like.

Right now, there’s nothing but darkness. And it’s hard to see a way out of that.

But here with him, there’s a spark of something I’m going to hold on to.

I have to do that.

For him.

For Bobbi.

For myself.

Carrying me across the grass in silence, Ringo takes me back inside and up to the bedroom. I reluctantly release my grip around his neck as he lowers me to the bed, watching his large frame move quietly through the room as he retrieves a towel.

His eyes meet mine as he kneels at the edge of the bed, before drying and cleaning my feet like I’m something sacred, and once he’s done, he helps me slip under the blankets.

I watch him in the faint glow coming from the night light in the corner, my eyes transfixed on him as he toes off his boots and strips down to his boxers before crawling in beside me.

I’m nervous as he settles in, worried he might want more. That he might want sex.

I just gave birth six days ago, and from the little I do know, I have to wait at least six weeks for that .

Will he feel like I’m pushing him away again if I refuse him?

I don’t want him to feel rejected, but thankfully, he doesn’t try anything. He simply pulls me to his side, tucking me close, and wraps his arms around me.

Even though my heart mostly hurts like a dagger keeps stabbing it over and over, when I’m with him like this, it doesn’t hurt quite as much.

“Cam?” I whisper as we lie tangled together, our foreheads nearly touching.

“Angel?”

“I know Bobbi is gone… but it doesn’t feel real.” I glance up, finding his eyes already on me. “I still feel her…” I take his hand and press it to my heart. “Right here.”

“Because that’s where she lives now.” He gently strokes the valley between my breasts where I held my daughter just days ago. “She will always be there. No matter where she is, she will always be wrapped in your love.”

“Yeah,” I breathe. “I guess you're right.” I leave my hand over his as he strokes the skin over my heart. “Cam?”

“Yeah, Angel?”

“My tits really hurt.”

He stiffens, and I glance back up at him, catching the look of mild panic in his eyes.

“My milk has come in… and I don’t know what I’m meant to do about it.”

“Oh.” He shifts slowly, pulling his hand away. “Fuck… I don’t really know about any of that stuff.”

I nod. “Me either. I thought about calling Andrea, but I just can’t deal with having a conversation about everything. I don’t want to hear her say how sorry she is.” I swallow thickly. “Does that make me a bigger bitch?”

“ Fuck no , Abs. You’re not a bitch at all. Not even close.” He pauses, clearing his throat. “How about I give her a call in the morning? I’ll do most of the talking.”

My lips twitch a little wider, and shit, I think it’s a hint of a smile.

“Thank you.”

“Of course, Angel.”

We fall silent, but we continue to stare at each other.

I know he’s years and years older than me, but he doesn’t make me feel it.

He makes me feel like his equal. Most of the time.

And God. The things he’s done to protect me. To save me. To kill for me.

“Were you crying because of me?” I dare to ask, remembering how he fell to his knees out by the lake, like life was too heavy to carry.

“Truth?” he asks, his eyes searching mine, and I nod.

“Please.”

“Yes, mostly.”

His head dips, eyes falling like he can’t stand for me to see the truth on his face.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, feeling the stab of guilt. “I never meant to treat you so badly.”

He shakes his head, jaw tight.

“I can handle you lashing out at me, Angel. What I couldn’t handle was knowing I failed you. Knowing that cunt Allen, raped you. ”

My throat locks up, burning, and it takes me a few tries to swallow it down, just enough to speak.

“You didn’t fail me,” I say, my voice scratchy, but he just shrugs, eyes still cast down.

“I just want to protect you. Stop all this bad shit from happening, but I can’t seem to get a grip on anything long enough to make it stick.”

His eyes flick back up to mine, and there’s something dark in them now. Something I don’t recognise.

“I… need to tell you something,” he rasps, his voice rough as his brows pucker, and I stiffen.

I don’t like how that sounds, and I know whatever it is, I’m not going to like it.