Tragic Beauty (Beauty & The Darkness #1)(24)

I stand among my herd and watch the sky slowly start to change, like a painter’s canvas, before my eyes. The blacks and greys fade to baby blues and pink corals, all mingling with the left over storm clouds that look as dark as I feel. Eventually, the sun’s rays break over the mountains and the frost begins to sparkle, turning the land I love so much into a sea of shimmering white. Tears begin to build, blurring everything into a brilliant kaleidoscope of color and despair. I give them each a final hug and do my best not to fall apart. “You guys have to stick around for a while, okay? I know you’re getting up there, but…you have to wait for me. Please.”

When I tear myself away and start to leave, a little nicker has a sob breaking from my throat. I’m barely able to keep my legs from giving out as I make my way back through the fence.

I feel bad not saying goodbye to Helen and Paul, or Ben, but I can’t—I won’t survive it. Especially Ben. Besides, I don’t want him to see me like this. He hasn’t said as much, but I know he’s got an idea of what I’ve done and of where I’m going. My tears would only hurt him. And he’s not the sentimental type anyway.

When I walk through the front door, a harsh dose of reality sets in. The bag I packed yesterday sits on the floor. All around me, it’s quiet.

I hang my jacket on the hook, then walk to my room where the early morning sun streams in through the curtains. I sit on the edge of the bed and kick off my heels, then look around. When my eyes settle on the bookshelf, I get up and walk over to it and run my fingers along the spines of the treasures I love so much. I don’t know what I would’ve done if I hadn’t had all these worlds to escape to.

I reach for a tired, blue paperback with a black horse on the cover, standing tall against a pretty sky. The Black Stallion by Walter Farley. Helen gave it to me for my eleventh birthday. I fell so hard in love with it, she bought me the entire series, which takes up almost an entire shelf on its own. It was one of the nicest things anyone had ever done for me.

I put the book back and scan the other titles, all the creases along the bindings, like little wrinkles in time. I was a bit limited by what came into the thrift store, but over the years, and with Helen’s help, I’ve managed to build a pretty good collection. I’ve got everything from Hardy to Hemingway to Harry Potter. I even thought of packing some of my books to take with me, but I don’t trust Shayne. He’d use them against me somehow, just because they mean something to me.

I notice a bit of dust on the shelf, and wonder if I should’ve covered everything in bed sheets, but it would’ve been too heartbreaking, and I don’t have enough sheets anyway. Besides, I tell myself, I’ll be back before I know it.

But I know that’s a lie.

I turn away and begin to undress, feeling as though I’m taking off more than just clothing, but memories too. When I’m naked, I look down at my body and do a double take. All the cuts and bruises hadn’t seemed so glaring last night, but now, in the daylight, they’re shocking. A question begins pounding against my skull. What will Shayne think? Maybe he’ll know. Maybe he’ll figure it out. I hadn’t thought about that when I was in the moment. Shayne was a lifetime away, then. But how could he know? I could easily say it was something else. I collapse on the edge of the bed and try searching for something that would explain how I look, but I can’t come up with much, other than I was sleepwalking naked and got caught in a thorn bush, or a wild cat attacked me when I was in the shower. But I don’t think he’d buy those. But then, you know what? I decide I don’t really care. Let him think what he wants.

I take Gavin’s sweats and run my fingers over the soft fabric and along where he cut the bottoms, just for me, then press them to my face and breathe in deep. That clean linen scent has tears filling my eyes, but I blink them down, carefully fold up the sweats and tuck them away in the closet, then go take a shower.

Once I’m out, I put on a bra and clean underwear—the ugliest I’ve got—then grab the same drab black dress I wore to my father’s funeral.

Out in the hallway, I stop at my father’s room and peer in. The bed sits empty. The chair sits empty. Reminders of another time.

I let them go and head to the living room where I collapse on the couch and curl up tight. My stomach rumbles, aching for the almost empty box of Wheat Thins, but I’m too tired to move now. My eyes burn from the tears, from the lack of sleep, from the future that lies ahead. I think of all the ways life could’ve gone differently, but then again, I never would’ve met Gavin.

“Gavin,” I whimper.

And that’s when I fall apart.

In an instant I’m bawling, loud giant wails that fill the entire house, my heart crying out for the man with green eyes. My mind limps back through time and I begin sifting through the memories, one by one. The time on the freeway. The moment he came back for me. Watching him make mac n’ cheese. Swimming in the rain. The laughter. The hardness. The dark forest. The dark secrets. The way he took me. The way he cherished me. I relive it all, over and over, my hands tucked under my chin, my body shaking with every violent sob, while the tears gush down my face. But I keep at it. I keep thinking of our time together, memorizing every little detail so I can keep him with me, forever, until…I drift off.





CHAPTER ELEVEN





Something soft, something fragrant. A caress across my cheek. I lean into it, the dream so real. Then a sound. A creak. My eyes flutter open, and awareness settles in. But…wait, I must still be dreaming, because I see Gavin, sitting on the edge of the coffee table, holding a red rose that he moves gently across my lips.