Page 110 of Before You Fell

“Don’t do that,” I say.

His mouth shuts.

“Don’t pick one word out of this fucking mess and try to save me from it because it makes you feel better.” My voice drops and the ache under it is so raw I can barely stand hearing it. “I deserved more than what I kept accepting from you.”

His hand lifts an inch, then stops.

For one terrible second, I want to let him reach me. To believe the hollow man in the chair is proof that somewhere under all that fame, poison, and ego is the boy I remember. I want to believe the softness is not a lie, buried beneath that cocky mouth that has done so much more damage.

My longing for him is so strong it’s like a physical sensation. As if my body is drawn to him even as I compel it to remain still.

That stupid, stubborn wanting that drags itself back to him on scraped knees and no survival instinct left. But loving Phoenix was never the problem. Letting him wreck me and calling it devotion was.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

Dad steps forward. “Stop. She doesn’t need this shit.”

Phoenix goes still but his eyes don’t leave mine.

“That’s enough,” Dad says, his voice is protective, angry without being cruel.

“Graham,” Mom says softly.

“No.” Dad moves closer to the bed, and for once, Phoenix doesn’t get to own the room because he is sitting in it. “She just woke up. You need to leave.”

Phoenix’s shoulders go rigid and his jaw clenches. “I’ll sit in the corner.,”

“You’ll sit outside.”

“I’m not leaving her.”

“You don’t get to decide what she needs.”

“I know that.”

“Then fucking act like it.”

The room goes silent.

​Phoenix drags a hand over his face. “I need to know she’s okay,” he says.

Dad’s voice cracks around the anger. “She is not okay. Look at her.”

Phoenix’s eyes move over me and I watch him swallow whatever sound tries to climb out of his throat.

“Willow,” he says.

“Go,” I say, as my own chest rips open around the word.

He looks as if something inside him has been told to step away from oxygen.

“Please, Phoenix,” I whisper. “I can’t have you in here.”

Phoenix closes his eyes. It hurts him. I can see it in the way his face pulls tight for half a second before he gets it under control.

Then he nods.

“I’m sorry,” he says again.