Page 53 of Unbroken

“I’m so sorry,” she said, her voice still shaking.

I shook my head and lifted my hand, using my thumb to brush away the black streaks streaming down her face.

“Talk to me,” I said, and those three words unintentionally triggered more tears.

“That baby…” she said between sniffles and labored breaths. “That baby Hazel is about to have, it wouldn’t be alive if Valerie had gotten her way. And I could have done more to stop it. Ishouldhave done more to stop it. I could have done…more, and after everything, that’s what keeps me up. All the things I didn’t do. The stupid choices I made.”

The last few sentences I couldn’t totally make out between tearful sobs, but I got the gist of it. She dropped her head back to my chest, and I held her closer.

When her crying slowed and I knew she was more likely to hear me, I said, “You’re right, their baby wouldn’t be about to come into the world if Valerie had gotten her way, but Valerie’s actions are not your responsibility. No matter the decisions you made, you were trying to protect us while also keeping yourself alive.”

“Yes, but I could have?—”

“No,” I said firmly. I would never understand the enormity of what Blakely had been through, but I could be there for her. That’s all I had to give. And I wouldn’t for a second let her carry that burden. “We’ve all forgiven you, B. Now, you’ve got to forgive yourself.”

With a deep breath, she lifted her head and said, “I’m trying, but sometimes that guilt feels like it’s eating me from the inside. And when I was watching Luke comfort Hazel as they’re about to have their first kid…”

She settled her head back on my chest, and I decided that nothing more needed to be said. We sat there for a little longer, and I enjoyed the feeling of holding her in my arms. Over our years of friendship, we’d touched platonically on many occasions. A hug hello or goodbye, holding hands while I was leading her through a crowded room, and I’d even sat with my arm around her a time or several. But the way she clung to me like she needed me was different.

And all I could do was hold her like I wouldn’t ever let go. Because if it were up to me, I wouldn’t.

But we were sitting on a hospital floor, the bright, fluorescent lights beating down on us and the murmur of emotional voices floating down the hallway.

“We should probably get up,” Blakely said, but she didn’t move. And I sure as hell wasn’t letting go first.

Eventually, she wiggled herself out from under my arm and swiped beneath her eyes, trying to brush away the remnants of mascara gathered there. She did a fairly good job, but there was no hiding the fact that she’d been crying.

I brushed a stray tear from her cheek as she looked up at me. My thumb lingered over her skin, and I drew in a deep, difficult breath.

“How do I look?” she asked with a hitch in her voice and a smile that was struggling to form.

Like everything I’ve ever dreamed of.The thought hit me out ofnowhere, right in my chest, and if I weren’t already sitting down, it would’ve knocked me over.

Rather than say that and pile on more shit that she didn’t need, I settled on a simple, “Beautiful.” But even that word held more emotion than I intended.

Blakely’s eyes widened, and I watched her throat bob as she swallowed. She said a quick “thank you” and began to stand on shaky legs. I followed her lead and stood.

“I’m going to run to the restroom and try to fix—” She motioned to her face, and I nodded. “Wait for me?”

“Always,” I said, and a more genuine, less forced smile slipped into place. She continued further down the hallway and pushed open the bathroom door. When she disappeared inside, my shoulders sagged, and I leaned against the wall behind me.

Two years was nothing, barely any time at all, to try to recover and heal from the things Blakely had been through. I knew Hazel and Luke, hell, even Josh, still struggled sometimes, and they hadn’t been held hostage in a basement for several months.

But watching her break down was heart-shattering. Especially when every time I saw her, I had to remind myself that she was real. She was there, but she was also working through invisible demons and unseen scars.

The bathroom door opened, and I pushed off the wall. Blakely walked toward me, and most of the black under her eyes was gone, although they were slightly red and swollen. But my comment from before still rang true: she was beautiful. Except even that word didn’t feel like it was enough.

“Ready?”

She nodded. “Yes,” she said with a shaky breath.

It felt natural to take her hand and slip my fingers between hers. Her arm stiffened, surprised by the gesture, but she didn’t pull back. She stared down at our joined hands, her soft palm pressed against my calloused one. And when she glanced back up at me, there was something lighter in her expression.

Without another word and ignoring the tightness in my chest, I turned and strode down the hallway with Blakely at my side. We passed the elevators and walked back into the small waiting room. We turned the corner, and five heads swiveled toward us.

Suddenly her hand felt heavy in mine, but I wasn’t going to drop it or step away. Instead, I led her to two empty seats, and we prepared to wait. Everyone quietly talked around us, and I chimed in occasionally, but Blakely sat silently. And I never let go of her hand.

Two hours later, we were making a plan to bring food to the hospital when Luke appeared at the end of the hallway. “Who’s ready?”

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