57. Fable

Chapter 57

Fable

I sleep until noon, but I only realize that because Trent is waiting for me when I wake. He sits in a chair he dragged over to the edge of the bed, making it look far smaller than it is as he sits with his elbows braced on his knees, his eyes on me.

"How long have you been watching me?" I rasp, my voice raw.

"I don't know," he admits. "Hours."

"Where are the others?"

"Working," he answers, his eyes tracing over my face as I stretch and wince. My body is sore, incredibly so, but I also feel the best I've ever felt in a while. When I reach for my prosthetic, Trent stops me. He comes over and kneels before me as he gently pulls on my socks and then eases the prosthetic on. He moves carefully, sweetly, until it's on.

"You didn't have to work?" I whisper, looking down at where he kneels before me.

He meets my eyes, his large hand clamping on my knee and squeezing gently. He shakes his head.

I bite my bottom lip, my heart throbbing painfully in my chest. "You tried to warn me," I rasp. "You're still trying to save me."

He sighs. "You are. . . there is no word to describe what you are. I have no doubt you could stay here and love us, but you don't belong here. You belong in the sunshine, not in the dark."

"I don't mind the dark?—"

"But you don't deserve it," he growls, reaching up to cup my face. "You deserve someone who isn't one bad deal away from being put six feet in the ground. You deserve someone who doesn't come with so much trauma. We drown in it."

"I have trauma, too," I point out.

"But you don't deserve more," he growls. "You don't deserve to carry all of ours. For fuck's sake, I carry food everywhere I go. I avoid people like the plague. I can barely stomach social formalities, Fable."

"So what?" I growl back. "I see hallucinations of my dead friend all the time. We're not so different!"

He blinks in surprise, and then his eyes soften. "PTSD." I nod even though he's not asking. He understands. "Fuck, Fable," he says, running a hand through his hair. "This is what I mean. We're only gonna make that worse."

"You can't?—"

"What happens when one of those gangs comes and shoots this place up?" he demands. "You think your PTSD is gonna get better?"

I open my mouth and close it when no words come out. I don't know. I don't know anything. But I do know it's going to hurt like hell to leave.

"You don't want me to stay?" I whisper, looking down.

He grabs my chin, forcing me to meet his eyes. "There's nothing I'd like more than to start every mornin' with you, Fable Everhart, but happy endings aren't for people like me. People like Rhett and Colt. Gunnar is the only one of us that will see some happy with Callie, but even his hands are stained red." He sighs. "No, happy endings ain't for me, but I can make sure everyone else gets theirs."

"So we don't even get a chance?" I rasp, my eyes welling. "That's shitty."

"The pain will ease for you eventually," he says, his lips turned down.

"And if it doesn't?"

"It will," he grunts. "It has to. I won't put you in danger. We won't be selfish, no matter how much Colt wants to be. We're neck deep in shit right now, but we'll figure things out. You can't be here for that in case you get caught in the crosshairs. I won't let you get hurt."

"So you just trust me to leave? What about your secret?" I ask.

"You'll keep it," he nods. "I trust you, Fable Everhart. I trust you with my life, but I don't trust myself with yours."

I sniffle, tears slipping over my lashes. "This is bullshit."

He leans forward and grabs my hand, placing it over his heart. "I'm thinking of getting a sword tattooed right here," he rasps. "What do you think?"

I swallow. "A sword for what?"

He smiles, but it's so sad, it only makes my heart hurt worse. "For the strong woman who came in like a hurricane, dressed as Cowgirl Barbie, and sat with me in the forge."

My heart stops. "You're adding me to your tattoos?"

He leans in and presses a gentle kiss to my forehead. "I'm immortalizing the woman I fell in love with," he replies. "Forever, over my heart, the only bit of happy I get."

He stands and heads for the door.

"I love you, too," I rasp, choking the words out like they're caught in my throat.

He pauses, his shoulders tensing. For a second, I think he's going to turn around, come back to me, but he looks at me over his shoulder instead, his own eyes wet, and that destroys me more than any words he could have said.

"I know, Fable Everhart," he grunts. "I know."

And then he leaves, and I'm alone with only the memory of my best friend to haunt me.