April smiled. She was enjoying this, teasing her. She was no longer walking on eggshells around Orion. No longer treating her like a victim or an unexploded land mine.
“I mean, what’s going on with you and Maddox? I know he’s teaching you how to drive. I know he takes you out to dinner. I know you saw a movie last week.” April jabbed a finger at her. “A fucking movie, Orion? I’ve begged you to go to the movies with me and you always say you aren’t ready!”
Orion hated that April had found that out. Had gotten the wrong impression. Or maybe the right one.
“I haven’t been ready, but he just makes me feel safe. He’s always looking out for me, and, I don’t know . . . there’s nothing going on or anything like that,” Orion said as quickly and sharply as she could. She had been progressing with April, letting her into the apartment to watch TV every night, cooking for her, giving her free rein to decorate. That was big for Orion. “He just really wanted to see Swiss Army Man.”
“Ew, the one where Harry Potter plays Uncle Bernie?”
“Who’s Uncle Bernie?” Orion looked confused.
April raised her brow. “Listen, I may not be a detective, but I know bullshit when I hear it. A movie is a date, Orion.”
“Why the fuck do you care?” Orion snapped. “You hated the fact that we were . . . whatever we were back then. Before everything.”
April’s eyes softened, her smile disappearing. “Well a lot of things have changed.”
Orion looked down because she couldn’t hold on to her steely stare in front of April’s naked emotion.
“It’s okay, you know,” April said, quieter this time. “To want something good. To want romance. I may hate him sometimes, but Maddox . . . he’s a great fucking guy, Orion. And he has missed you. He’s always missed you. And it’s okay if you missed him too.”
Orion didn’t look up. “It’s not okay. You don’t know what I’ve been through. I’m never going to have good again in this life, April. And I’m sure as fuck not going to have romance.” There was no fight in her voice, merely resignation. “Romance is for living breathing humans. Not walking tragedies.”
“You’re right,” April said. “I don’t know what you went through. If I lived one hundred lifetimes, I will not ever know what you went through. There is no way I can even fathom it. Seeing the photos . . .” She trailed off, sucked in a breath. “To read the stories. It’s horrifying, Ri.”
Orion looked up even though she didn’t want to.
April’s eyes were full of tears, but that wasn’t what struck her. They were full of sorrow. Sorrow that showed her this woman carried around the weight of those ten years much more than Orion had expected. She cared for Orion more than she could fathom. She loved her and it was pain.
Loving Orion could only bring pain.
“This is not the life you should’ve had,” April said, teary-eyed. “You were meant to love Maddox. I was meant to fight with you over it. Act like the teenage brat that I was. Then I’d get over it, I’d open my eyes and see what you two had. Even then, it was something. I’d see it, and I’d be happy. You’d marry him. My parents wouldn’t approve at first, but they’d deal. And I’d be your bridesmaid. Maddox wouldn’t put on a badge and gun and walk out the door without a guarantee he’d walk in again. He’d work some boring nine to five just waiting anxiously every day to come home to you.”
She sucked in a breath. “Or maybe not. Maybe you’d have had a short-lived high school romance and it would’ve fizzled out. And that’s okay too. But I doubt it. Because there’s something there. Something that should’ve died in those ten years, Orion. It should have withered up and decayed inside you after what you went through. It should’ve died inside of him because he grew up and lived a different life than he should’ve.” She paused. “I know my brother. And I’m not going to lie to you. He hasn’t been chaste, pining over a lost teenage love. There’s been women, passing through in a blur. No one put down roots because somehow you were still all curled up inside him. And he never let them. He only wanted you. He only ever wanted you.”
Orion bit her lip until she tasted blood, anything to water down those words.
“I’m not going to pressure you,” April said gently. “I’m so thankful to have you back, to have you let me in. I’m not fourteen anymore. As much of a brat as I can be, I’m a good friend. Even though I haven’t had the chance to be in a while. I’ve got friends. Friends I drink with. Brunch with. Shop with. Surface friends. But you’re my family, Orion. I’m not going to push you, but I’m not going to lie either. I see you with Maddox. I see you fighting it because you don’t think you deserve it. But you do. You deserve everything this life has to offer. You deserve happiness. That’s all I’m saying.”