Page 14 of Reckless Knight (Knight's Ridge Empire 7)

The second I release her, she falls back.

I stand there staring at her with my heart in pieces.

I don’t even recognise her.

I understand how much she’s hurting. I’m hurting too.

But I’m still here, and I selfishly can’t help thinking that she’s forgotten that fact.

A silent tear runs down my cheek and drips from my chin.

“I don’t know how to fix this, Mum,” I confess on a sob. “I need help.”

But I get nothing.

My heart starts to race as panic begins to set in.

I shouldn’t have gone out tonight, and I certainly shouldn’t have agreed to a date—or whatever that was—with Toby, leaving Mum alone to do this to herself.

Using every ounce of strength I’ve got, I manage to sit her up, but she’s completely soaked through.

“Mum?” I say loudly, in the hope of waking her up. “Mum,” I snap, my despair and panic melding into some kind of anger that I can’t control. “I’m going to need you to wake up and help me,” I tell her, but it’s pointless.

“Fine,” I hiss. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

By some freaking miracle, I manage to get us both to the bathroom without us crashing to the floor.

She might not look awake, but I’m pretty sure she’s putting some effort in.

“Ready?” I ask, although I already know I’m not going to get a response as I turn the shower on and allow us both to get blasted by freezing cold water.

Mum jolts the second it hits her skin and her eyes fly open.

“Jodie?” she slurs, her glassy eyes staring into mine.

A thick ball of emotion lodges itself in my throat, and I have to swallow a couple of times before I’m able to speak again.

“You need to stop doing this, Mum. It’s not going to bring them back.”

She drops her head, resting it on my shoulder, a pained whimper falling from her lips.

“I know, baby. I’m sorry.”

I help her clean up and then guide her back to her bedroom, finding her a clean nightie and getting her into bed. The whole time, tears cling to my lashes as I fight to keep the emotion inside. Seeing me fall apart isn’t going to help her.

“Tomorrow will be a better day,” I promise her, knowing that I’m lying to both of us. Tomorrow will just be another day like today, full of pain, heartache, and indescribable grief.

Turning the light off and slipping from her room, I discard the bottle before walking straight back into the bathroom and stripping out of my wet clothes.

I turn the shower up as high as it’ll go and step under it, wishing I could wash everything about my life right now down the drain with the water.

Well… maybe not everything.

Images of Toby smiling at me from across the table tonight flicker through my mind.

He’s like a beam of light in all my darkness.

My relief from the grief.