Page 111 of My Fallen Saint

Chapter Thirty-Four

“Are you okay?” Brandy asks when she comes back to my side. I’m not sure I’ve ever heard her voice so gentle.

I nod, then shake my head, then nod again.

“Yeah,” she says, looping her arm around me so I can lean against her. “I get it.”

We stay like that for a while, the television playing episode after episode of a show I don’t even recognize until finally Brandy yawns and I realize that time’s been passing as usual despite the world having come to an end. “You should go to bed,” I tell her.

“I can stay up with you if you want.”

I shake my head. “I’m going to go take a shower.”

“Okay. Holler if you need me.” She gives me a fierce hug, whispers that I’ll be okay, and then slips away to her room.

I sit a bit longer, letting another episode I’m not watching wash over me. Then I click off the TV, head into the bathroom, get into the shower and cry until all the hot water runs out.

It doesn’t help. All I feel after is hollow.

I tell myself this shouldn’t be so hard. I was fine before Devlin. Fine. And I’m not the kind of girl who wants a guy to stick, anyway. Isn’t that what I’ve told myself for years? Hell, isn’t it what I’ve been doing for years? I walk, and it’s easy. Fuck, walk, go. It’s been my mantra and it works.

But not anymore. My modus operandi is broken. My heart no longer following the script.

Except it is. Of course it is. Because Devlin—Alex—was the reason for my fuck and run lifestyle. Because he was the one who ran all those years ago. The one who should have stayed.

And now I’m too confused to even know what I want. I crave him, yes. I miss him, absolutely. But oh, God, what he took from me—and then left me to bleed instead of at least telling me why.

The thoughts spin in my head, too loud and noisy to let me sleep. I want to cry more. I want the numbness back. But instead I’m filled with a war of emotions, buzzing inside, so loud that I finally can’t take it anymore.

I slide out of bed and pad barefoot to Brandy’s room. I knock on the door and hear her sleepy, “Come in.” She sees me, then pulls back the sheet in invitation. I go to her eagerly, letting her hold me close as she strokes my hair until, finally, in my best friend’s arms, I cry myself to sleep.

I’m in a funk for days. I think it’s only three, but it feels like a month. And other than my shower that first night, I’ve done nothing in the way of personal hygiene except brush my teeth, splash water on my face, and pull my hair back into a ponytail.

I know Brandy and Lamar are worried about me. They’ve been taking turns making me food, suggesting TV shows, offering to take walks or chat. Mostly, though, I sleep.

Which is why I’m rumpled and gross and probably a little ripe when Tamra comes by one evening.

“How are you doing, honey?”

I raise a shoulder. “Honestly, I’ve been better.”

Her smile is thin. “There’s a lot of that going around.”

I shrug, not sure I want to hear that, mostly because I’m not sure what I want. What kind of weight I can bear on my shoulders. He killed my uncle. There’s no getting around that. And no matter the reasons, he left me. He came back long enough to fuck me—and then he left me.

I lead her to the kitchen, and we sit at the counter sharing a plate of cookies Brandy left for me before taking Jake for a walk.

“I know,” Tamra says. “In case you weren’t sure. If you want to talk about it, I know what happened to Peter, and I know why.”

“Oh.” I sit up a little straighter. “Did you know back then?”

She shakes her head. “No. Devlin told me later. It’s been eating him up for a long time. Hell, a lifetime.”

I pick apart my cookie. “Oh.”

She reaches across the table and takes my hand. “I don’t know if this helps or not, but he always wanted you to know everything.”

I scoff. “That’s a nice line, but I don’t believe it.”