Page 9 of Golden Ruin

A quiet whimper leaves my mouth when the sting intensifies, and the next thing I know, Sterling has my uninjured hand wrapped in his. I glance there, at his fingers laced with mine.

“In case you need to squeeze it when the pain gets too bad,” he says. “Keep talking.”

I let myself fall back into the memory.

“I woke up to smoke, then Amelia burst in…”

I stop there, remembering how my sister tried to pull me away, tried to get me to leave without Jaxon. My stomach twists at the thought of it. What if I’d listened to her? What if I’d put myself first, let fear stop me from going back?

A tear slips down my cheek, but I brush it away quickly with my shoulder.

“Keep talking, Lex,” he says quietly, and I focus.

“Amelia left, and then it was just me,” I say. “I was on my own.”

There’s a stretch of silence as those words pick at old wounds. Thoughts of my father leaving years ago to start a new family. Thoughts of Sterling walking away when things got hard. Now, tonight, my sister drove the point home, proving that the only person I can ever really depend on is me.

Like always.

The thought has me pulling my hand from Sterling’s. He doesn’t say anything, but the separation probably feels intentional to him, rooted in something deeper.

Both those things are true.

He stands there a moment, the TV flickering in the darkness, then takes a step back.

“I’ll um… I’ll go see what’s taking so long,” he says, then steps out of my room.

Not sure this was how he intended for his plan to work, but I’m definitely not thinking about my arm anymore. Instead, I’m drowning in memories I wish I could forget altogether.

A gentle buzzing to my left steals my attention. Only now do I notice the clear bag on the adjustable table beside me. It’s got all my things in it, including my phone.

I hiss when I move too much and another jolt of pain shoots through my arm. I go slower this time, pulling my cell free. I must’ve fallen asleep with it in the pocket of my cardigan after texting Sterling, and it was still there when the ambulance brought me in.

I’ve never seen so many notifications. Social media’s going wild, of course. Pandora’s been doing hourly updates, and the paparazzi have been camped outside the hospital all night. And they’re still here, according to several sites, likely because Sterling’s still here.

That last part sits with me. He has to know the rumors this will start, the trouble it’ll cause with Tiffany, but… none of that seems to matter for some reason.

No. Nope. Don’t read into it. There’s nothing weird about him being here. He probably just promised Jaxon he’d stay to make sure I’m okay. That’s absolutely something our son would ask him to do, because he’s thoughtful like that.

I’m sure that’s it.

I force my thoughts to shift, focusing on the many texts from friends and family. Apparently, everyone was here tonight, hanging out in the waiting room until doctors gave them word that I was out of the woods. Mom and Benny’s messages are the longest. From what I’m reading, they were the only two allowed to come back to see me aside from Sterling.

I frown when I read Mom’s second message, saying she’ll help me with my hair when I get better. I glance down, and I was so worked up when I first came to, I didn’t even realize the unevenness, how one side still hangs to my elbow, but the other is nearly singed to my shoulder. The same side where I sustained burns to my arm and hand.

Air gets stuck in my lungs as I stare at both–my hair, my arm in a bandage–and it hits me.

Tonight was a closer call than I realized.

My eyes blur, but I blink the tears away, refusing to keep crying over this shit. Jaxon is okay, and I’m still here. That’s what matters.

I smile when I see Benny sent a text a few hours ago. It’s a pic of Jax fast asleep in bed between him and Mom, hugging a stuffed dog they keep in his room at their house. It’s a small comfort knowing he still has some of the toys he loves, still has pieces of his life from before the fire to cling to. The thought has my gaze shifting toward the clear bag again, at my belongings.

Everything I have left.

I look away when the tears come back.

Nope. I won’t let this break me. I’ve been through a lot of shit, and I’m stronger than this.