Dare You To (Pushing the Limits, #2)(135)

The doorbell rings and I rub my eyes. I’m too exhausted for      guests, but they keep coming: my friends, the baseball team, my coaches,      teachers, my parents’ friends.

Mom and Dad’s slightly raised tones indicate that they’re      disagreeing over something, and I don’t care enough to figure out the issue. I      expect them to continue the argument, but what I don’t expect is Mom’s voice at      the door of my room. “Because I said so.”

She throws a glare down the hallway before addressing me.      “Ryan, you have a guest.”

Before I can ask who, Beth walks into my room with her left arm      in a sling. The breath slams out of my body. She’s here. Forgetting about my      injuries, I rush to sit up—and wince. The smell of roses overwhelms me and I      glance up to see Beth by my side.

“You look like hell. Have you been resting at all?”

The right side of my mouth quirks up. “It’s nice to see you      too.”

“I’m serious.” Beth doesn’t wear worry well and the ache on her      face bothers me.

I capture the hand she uses to try to push me back down, bring      it to my lips, and kiss her palm. God, I’ve missed her.

A clearing of a throat and I notice Scott standing beside my      mother at the door. “A few minutes, Beth, then we’re heading home.”

Beth nods and I watch my mother’s reaction to a girl in my      room. She studies us, almost like someone seeing a painting they don’t quite      get. There’s no malice in her expression, just curiosity. “I’m leaving the door      open.”

“Thanks,” I say and I mean it. Mom’s trying now—not only with      me, but with Mark, and I have Chris to thank for it. He called Mark when EMS      brought me into the emergency room. Mark and Mom talked for the first time while      I was in X-ray. Both are silent about the conversation they had, but they’re      speaking again. It’s a start.

Scott leans his head in when Mom leaves and stares straight at      Beth. “Behave.”

She rolls her eyes. “Because the moment you leave we’re going      to go at it like wild animals. Please.” She motions to her arm. “Broken bones      and bruises are so attractive.”

Scott shakes his head as he follows Mom to the living room and      Beth mirrors his movements. Do they have any idea they’re clones of each      other?

Beth sinks onto the bed and turns her head toward me. I don’t      like how she looks. Beyond the cuts on her face and head, plus the bruises,      she’s too pale and dark circles outline the bottom of her eyes. Wondering if I’m      dreaming, I reach over and rub her hair between my fingers. It’s silky and real.      I let the strands fall and meet her gaze. “How are you?”

I hate the way her forehead crinkles and the pain weighing her      features. She closes her eyes briefly. “I’m so sorry. It’s my fault he hurt      you.”

“Nope, not going to hear it.” I grab Beth’s hand and coax her      to lie with me on the bed.

She resists. “But your mom—”

“What’s she going to say? I’m hurt. You’re hurt. We got tired      and lay down. I want to hold you so for once in your life can you not fight      me?”

“Wow. Someone’s cranky.”

“Damn right I am.” But the knots twisting my gut begin to      unravel when I lie back and Beth wraps her body gingerly around mine. She’s      hesitant, testing areas first to confirm the contact won’t make me sore, and I’m      gentle when placing an arm around her so that I don’t jostle her arm.

When we’re settled, I exhale and close my eyes. I’ve dreamed of      this for seven days. Who knows, I’m probably dreaming now. If I am, maybe Beth      will do something that’s hard for her; maybe she’ll give me answers. “Why did      you believe Gwen over me?”





Chapter 72

Beth

I READJUST, SNUGGLING       CLOSER to Ryan, but braced for signs that I’ve hurt him. I can hear      his heart now and the inhale and exhale of air through his lungs. If I weren’t      so damn tired, I could possibly cry. I thought I lost him at my mom’s      apartment.

Ryan runs a hand through my hair and I lick my lips,      searching for courage. He deserves an answer. If not because he risked his life      to save me, then because I love him. “I didn’t trust you.”