Chapter 27

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Ella

My head is pounding, but I force myself to hold still, to not reach for the bottle of aspirin in my purse.

I deserve the hurt.

I deserve the punishment.

I deserve?—

"Enough," I whisper, forcing myself to focus on the lake, on the waves lapping against the shore and the sky changing colors in the distance. On the clouds drifting in, threatening to dump even more snow.

Good.

Bury me.

Give me frostbite.

Make me go numb so I don't have to feel what I'm feeling now.

God, Kit. And Riggs. And?—

My dad.

Another tear escapes the confines of my lashes, drips down my cheek, the hot trail it leaves behind cooling almost instantly in the growing cold of evening.

I've cried too many tears today, and yet they show no sign of abating, of stopping.

Maybe I'll dehydrate one drop at a time, turn into a withered husk of a woman destined to become dust on this snow and sand-covered beach.

Not dramatic at all.

I dash my hand across my cheeks and exhale.

At some point, I'm going to have to woman up and walk back to my car.

But this is not that moment.

I bring my knees up to my chest, curl my arms around them, and I study the sky, watching as the first couple of stars begin to appear overhead. I want to get lost in the vastness of space, in the fact that it's so big when my life is so small.

But right now…all of this seems?—

Huge. Awful and giant and overpowering and?—

Huge.

I shake my head, eyes leaking again, distraction of the stars not enough to pull me out of my misery.

Especially when I hear footsteps crunching on the ground nearby.

Not wanting anyone to see me like this, I burrow deeper into my blanket, push myself further into my alcove, hoping the shadows will hide me.

But I know that's a false hope the moment I see him.

Knox unerringly heads for my spot, dropping down beside me and tossing a blanket around my shoulders. "How long have you been out here, kid?"

"Not long enough for you to locate and replace my Barbie Dream House you ruined," I quip.

Jokes.

Distraction.

Hide from the real problems at hand.

My brother just sighs, slings his arm around me, and I don't realize I'm shivering until he starts rubbing his hands up and down my arms. "I thought it was your EMT Barbie ambulance that I ruined."

Despite the knot in my stomach, I giggle. "Nope. It was my A-frame Dream House with a doorbell and elevator that you ruined."

"In fairness, Mr. Hoppyness loved his time in the Dream House."

"That he did," I admit. "At least before he chewed that hole in the floor and the whole thing collapsed."

Knox laughs, but only for a moment. Because then he's freezing, head cocked as though listening. Then he cups my jaw, tilts my head up, stares deep into my eyes. "Don't hate me," he murmurs.

I frown, then hear what he must have already clocked.

The crunching of more footsteps.

My gaze slides from my brother's, drifts over his shoulder, and?—

I sigh and slump against him. "You've really done it now."

A hand on the back of my head, holding me tightly against him. "I already ordered your replacement A-frame Barbie Dream House, complete with a doorbell and elevator to make it up to you."

" This requires more payment than that."

"I know," he murmurs, kissing the top of my head. "It's why I got the ambulance too."

I want to laugh.

But I'm too sad, too guilty, too panicked?—

"Ells."

My eyes go back to his.

"Dad doesn't fucking know what he's missing out on with you."

I shake my head. "You don't know what I did?—"

"No," he agrees, "but I know you. "

My heart squeezes.

"And you're beautiful." He touches my chest. "In here, kiddo."

"I messed up."

A kiss to my forehead. "And you'll fix it." Then he's extracting himself from around me, pushing up to his feet, and clapping…

Riggs on the shoulder.

"Be gentle on her," my brother murmurs.

I wince.

Because Riggs's face…

It's impenetrable and cold.

Already leaving me.

Maybe already gone.

He nods at Knox and my brother walks away and…

Then it's just Riggs and me.

"I'm sorry," I say before he can speak, goddamned eyes leaking all over the place again. "I'm so, so sorry. I— I ?—"

He drops down behind me, gathers me close, tucking the blanket around the front of me, warming my back with his chest. "Breathe, chérie . Just lean against me and breathe."

I should pull away. I'm a horrible jerk who doesn't deserve him being nice to me.

But I can't break out of his hold, can't make myself move away from the warm chest and the strong arms and the gentle words.

And Riggs doesn't make me.

He just holds me close, keeps me warm, and we sit like that, in a quiet embrace, as the sky turns into a beautiful mosaic of blues and oranges and pinks, as it begins to darken, as clouds from the west, from the Pacific, crawl their way up the Sierra Nevada to cling to our basin.

A dusting of snow is ahead.

But right now we're safe in the cool kiss of winter.

I keep waiting for him to speak, to press, to demand.

But…that's not Riggs.

This quiet, patient man is content to sit here in the cold with me, to watch the sky darken, to feel the temperature drop, to witness the stars overhead turning into beautiful, untouchable crystals in the sky.

"We used to do this, you know?" I find myself saying.

Silence for a long moment, and then Riggs tightens his arms around me. "Who's we , chérie ?" he asks gently.

"My mom and dad and I," I whisper.

His draws me closer, wraps me even tighter in the warmth of him. "Tell me."

I close my eyes, remembering. "Knox was busy a lot with hockey, always traveling, always at the rink for games or practice, but sometimes my parents would wake me up when it was dark outside and we would climb onto the roof. My dad would wrap me in a big blanket and my mom would show me all of the constellations, telling me the stories behind them and—" I sigh. "My dad would always bring a thermos of hot chocolate with lots of marshmallows and a Snickers bar because that was my favorite." My eyes burn again. "We ate pretty healthy as a family. There weren't really any bad foods or things we couldn't have, but at night? After I'd brushed my teeth and we had dinner and dessert and Knox was in bed? That candy bar and cup of cocoa seemed like the most decadent of treats."

I haven't been able to eat one since.

Riggs smooths a hand over my head, gently running his fingers through my hair, but he doesn't say anything, doesn't interrupt, just lets me talk.

"When my mom was pregnant, we skipped the roof, but we'd still bundle up on the back porch and look at the stars and catch up on all of the things that were going on with me." I close my eyes. "It was my special time, and I didn't get a lot of that."

" Chérie ," he murmurs, brushing his lips over my jaw. "I'm sorry you didn't get that."

"I don't resent Knox," I say quickly, "and he would be the first to admit that him being so good at hockey meant that sometimes my stuff was a second thought."

"Baby," he murmurs.

"It wasn't his fault," I add. "When he was home, he was the best big brother ever and…after—" Tears blur my vision. "Well, he was there for me. He's always been there for me. And truly, I didn't need them as much. I've always liked being on my own, free to do my own thing?—"

I pause as something occurs to me.

Another kiss to my jaw. "What?"

"I was just…I guess I was just wondering if I've always been independent and free because that's my personality…or if it's because of who I had to be. Because I only had those small moments of acknowledgment. Because I was alone so much." My nails bite into my palms. "Like maybe because my parents couldn't be what I needed the rest of the time, I had to…I don't know, figure out a way to be okay with the parts they could give me."

My heart is thudding at the realization, but I recognize something else, recognize that he's gone statue still.

I turn in his arms. "What, honey?"

An exhale that teases across my lips and then he touches my cheek. "I—" A shake of his head. "It's just that I know exactly what you're saying."

"Honey," I whisper. "I'm sorry that your dad wasn't?—"

"I know you are." He turns my head so he can press his lips to mine. "You're pretty fucking smart, you know that, right?"

Finally, a glimmer of something that's not self-loathing or pity or worry or guilt curls through my stomach.

Seizing it, I blow on my knuckles, buff them on my shoulder, desperate to make him smile. "Yeah," I say lightly, "I do know that."

A chuckle. "Adler ego?"

I settle my forehead against his. " Ella ego."

His mouth curves.

But the lightness in my belly disappears the next instant.

Because he wasn't smiling last night.

Because I fucked up, and now he's here despite all the shit I pulled and?—

Shame burns through me.

I drop my gaze to my lap.

His hand captures my chin, and he lifts my head, holding my eyes as he brushes his lips over mine.

"All right, chérie ," he says and there's no teasing in his tone.

"I need you to tell me about it, baby. About all of it."