Page 112 of Twisted Fate

I ignored the front door as it opened and closed multiple times throughout the evening, staring at the wall from my curled-up position on the bed.

The bedroom door opened softly as someone entered, and the bed dipped as a body lay down behind me.

I knew from the cologne that it was Diesel.

He didn’t speak, he just pulled me close and held me in silence, letting me know he was there for me.

“How could he do that?” I finally whispered, and he kissed my shoulder affectionately.

“Because, he loved you and he’d do anything to keep you safe,” he said honestly, my heart aching all over again as I rolled over to meet his sad hazel eyes.

“I need him too, D. He’s my best friend.”

“I know, babe. I’m staying here tonight with you, okay? I’ll sleep in the other room.”

I nodded as I buried my face in his chest, clinging to him for comfort as his hand trailed up and down my back gently.

“Are you feeling up to seeing Skeet? He said it’s okay if you’re not,” he asked quietly, my body tensing.

“Has he spoken to Ty? Slash was basically his best friend, and…”

“He’s heading over to Jensen’s to talk to them once he leaves here. He was hoping to see you before he left,” he replied, his hand still moving on my back to keep me calm.

I took a breath before asking the question that had been on my mind all evening.

“Is he mad at me?”

He frowned, genuine confusion on his tired face.

“Why would he be mad at you?”

Tears pooled as I mustered up the courage to say it out loud.

“Because, it’s my fault.”

His arms tightened around me as he kissed the top of my head, his voice cracking the slightest amount.

“It’s not your fault, Rory. Slash made the choice all on his own, knowing what would happen. Don’t blame yourself. No one else is, I promise.”

“Okay.”

“Okay, what?”

“I’ll talk to Skeet,” I said softly, his body relaxing before he kissed my temple and left the room quietly.

I stared at the door until Skeeter walked in.

He hesitated before walking over to me to sit on the edge of the bed.

“Hey, your arm okay?”

“I don’t give a fuck about my…,” I started to snap, but he cut me off, an unexpected softness to his tone.

“I know, but I give a fuck about you. Can I look?” He asked with uncertainty, waiting for me to nod before carefully moving my shirt off my arm to inspect the graze.

I stared at him, hating that my lip trembled as I spoke.

I’d let too many emotions show through the day, and I had to get my shit together.