“I got it, Brin. I want to see her because I’ve missed her, and I’m worried about her.”
She gives me a cautious nod and moves out of my way. “She’s missed you too.”
I have no right to want anything right now; I’m grateful to have made it this far. But a tiny, selfish part of me hopes I don’t find Ryan Rothwell on the other side of this door.
Tapping my fingers lightly, I listen for her quiet “Come in” before pushing it open.
She does a double take and sits up straight in her bed, wincing at her quick movement.
She’s wearing my T-shirt.
“Hey.”
She blinks at me, then again like she can’t comprehend it’s me. I step into her bedroom and close the door behind me, keeping my distance from her. “Hi,” she whispers back.
“I know you don’t want me here, but I heard what happened. Even if you rip my head off, I had to see you, Anastasia. I needed to see with my own eyes that you’re okay.”
Bringing her knees to her chest, she pulls the T-shirt over her bare legs and nods. She looks anything but okay right now. “You look better than the last time you were here. I didn’t know you get migraines; it was scary.”
I take a step closer to her bed and she doesn’t react badly, so I take another. “I didn’t mean to scare you, and, uh, I’m sorry for the vomit.” I entirely forgot about the vomit untilrightnow. “And I’m sorry about everything else. I’ve fucked up so badly, but it’s not in the way you think.”
“I know.”
“You know?”
She rests her chin on top of her knees and sighs. “I know, Nathan.”
She looks broken. Pale and puffy face, eyes red from crying or rubbing, or both. Her hair, ordinarily shiny and flowing down her back, is tied into a ball on the top of her head, and her entire demeanor feels deflated.
“Stassie, can I hug you? You look like you need one, and I, well, I’ve missed you a lot.”
“I’d like that,” she says, so quietly that I hardly hear her.
Kicking off my sneakers, I climb toward her. She stretches out her legs and I immediately see the fresh bruises from yesterday. Not knowing where to put myself, I sit beside her, propped up on her millions of pillows, just close enough so our legs are touching.
It’s like two weeks apart has made us forget how to be around each other, but when I put my arm around her, she climbs between my legs, and sinks her face into my chest.
My body knows what to do better than my brain. I pull her closer gently, wrapping my arms around her. All the tension in my body fades and I can breathe properly again. Until her shoulders shake and her fingers cling to my sweatshirt. I press my lips to her forehead as her cry becomes audible, getting louder and louder. “Shh, baby. It’s okay.”
“Everything is a,” her voice cracks between sobs, “total mess.”
Cupping her neck with my hand, I brush my thumb across her cheek until the cries stop, and she stills against my chest.
I keep my arms around her, saying nothing, holding her until she’s ready to talk. I’m listening to the gentle sound of her breathing when she finally speaks. “I’m sorry about the crying.”
“Hey, I chucked up and passed out on you, Stas. I can deal with a bit of crying. You wanna talk about what happened?”
She releases my body, and for a second, I think she’s making a run for it, but instead, she straddles my lap and sits facing me.
I rub my hands up and down the front of her bare thighs while she rubs her palms against her eyes, getting rid of the stray tears.“You ever been dropped from a great height in front of hundreds of people?”
“Fell out of a ski lift once.”
She snorts and shakes her head. “Of course you did.” She plays with the string of my sweatpants, not looking at my face. “Everything was fine. We’d practiced and practiced, and he was fine. We were near the end of our routine, doing the lift, and his wrist justwent.”
The way her voice shakes when she says it is like a punch to the gut. Her eyes finally meet mine, tears brimming.
“I t-thought I was going to crack my head open. It all happened so quickly; Aaron caught me on the way down, but I bashed his leg as he swung me around. He has these hideous cuts and bruises; I feel so guilty.”