Page 73 of Our Ruined Beginnings

I need to admit to myself that my hesitance to go in—to see his face again—is not all to do with worrying about Madden’s anger at me being first. There’s a deep-rooted fear inside of me that he’ll blame me too. Would Madden have thought to tell them all we thought? Would they even believe me against everything that’s been told?

Caleb:I’m sure. I figured you’d need a minute, but you’ve had too many, so get in here, weirdo.

Caleb:And if you’re worried about the uglier twin, don’t be. He’s not here.

The relief I’d expect to feel from that reassurance is nowhere to be found, and I feel only empty at the thought of not seeing them together. But I force myself to push away the lingering emotions and stand, brushing my hands over my black cotton-clad thighs, and start slowly toward the double doors.

It takes me far longer than it should to reach Caleb’s room, and with each step I take nearer to the wooden door, my blood thumps faster in my ears, the suffocating silence in the empty hallways blocked out by the sound.

Clammy fingers curl around the metal handle, but I pause, heaving in a deep breath before pushing it down and gingerly nudging the door open.

Instead of the usual sterile scent and hopelessness that clings to the room, there’s brightness and warmth. I used to fear hearing the lack of beeping machines, but now, the quiet and the dim lights send a wash of relief through me. Before I can stop myself, tears spill over my lashes as my eyes zero in on my best friend sitting upright in his bed.

“Caleb…” I breathe, choking on his name.

With his eyes wide open, the similarities between him and Madden are like a punch to the gut.

“Hey, Harpy,” he says, a wide grin on his face. He gestures to a mug of steaming hot chocolate on the table beside his bed, a pile of whipped cream on top, and no doubt marshmallows swimming in the cup too—our favorite drink to get together. “Did you want it? ’Cause you’ve got approximately two seconds to get your ass in that chair and start drinking before I steal it.”

I roll my eyes, my feet carrying me the remaining distance to his side. I try not to fall onto him, I really do, what with himjusthaving woken up from a coma and all, but I can’t say I massively succeed. His arms wrap around me as I press myself into his chest and, for the first time in a long time, I feel okay again. There are no tears, just a grin so large I fear it might rip my cheeks.

“I missed you, H.”

“You didn’t even know I wasn’t here,” I say into the hospital gown.

“For the last nine hours, I’ve known you weren’t here, and I missed you.”

My smile beams somehow even wider.

“So sentimental,” I murmur, before pulling back to look into his eyes. “I missed you too. So much.”

He nods lightly like he knows how I must’ve been feeling, but he’ll never be able to understand. Not really.

I stand upright and take a seat in the chair next to his bed, grabbing the mug in shaky hands and blowing into it before bringing it to my lips.

“So, you and my brother finally fucked, huh?”

Cream flies from my mouth as I choke. Hot liquid sinks into my leggings, the burn almost unbearable as I fight to keep the mug in my hands before placing it down on the counter and brushing away the remnants from my clothing. “What the fuck, Caleb? You can’t just spring that kind of question on a girl.”

“Why not? Surely, as your best friend, my job is to make you as uncomfortable as possible?”

“Surely, we should be focusing onyouright now, not me,” I quip, narrowing my eyes.

“Where’s the fun in that?” He shrugs, his eyes alight with amusement. “But okay, let’s get me out of the way. I’ve had a really great sleep, though I slept for way too long. Grew out my hair a little. Do you like it?” I roll my eyes at his sarcasm, but take my seat again, more comfortably this time. “Lost some weight; got waited on hand and foot. And, oh yeah, woke up to a world where my best friend was nowhere to be seen, and apparently my brother decided he would finally claim her but also ruin her life in the process… Have I missed anything?”

Sighing, I curl my fingers around the mug and close my eyes. “You really want to talk about the drama that is my life?”

“I reeeally do.” I scowl at him, but he only laughs and sends me a wink. “I think I’ve heard the gist of it. My little brother—”

“You were born five minutes before him, it doesn’t count.”

“As I was saying,” he deadpans, his own scowl aimed at me. “I think Madden filled me in on all the specifics, but I want to hear from you where you stand. Whose team am I on? Team Harden or Harper?”

“Harden?” I scoff.

“You don’t like it? What about Madper? I’m trying something new.”

“How is it that within five minutes of seeing you, you manage to make me laugh?”

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