Page 157 of When Hearts Surrender

“Let it out, Belle. We’re here for you.” I feel Taylor curling her arms around me, her hug light, but no less warm. Her voice is thick, like she has been crying too—the black-hearted ballerina has a warm, beating heart, hidden from everyone, but I know it’s there.

“I don’t know what to do,” I whisper in our group hug as sobs wrack my body, the pain never-ending.

“One day at a time, Belle. One day at a time,” Millie whispers, clutching me tightly. “Ryland, Grace, and the others are at the hospital, and they’ll let us know if anything changes.”

“You need to rest, Belle,” Taylor murmurs when we disentangle ourselves from the hug. “You look like absolute shit. He won’t recognizeyou when he wakes up.” Her nose crinkles and lips twitch, like she’s struggling not to cry.

“God, you suck at comforting people, Tay. But I love you anyway,” I choke out before smiling, a rush of warmth flooding my insides.

My girls. My family. I’m not alone.

“Don’t worry about me. I’m going to stay strong for him because I believe in him, in us.” I sniffle and swallow the lump in my throat. “He’ll come back to me. I know he will.”

Just then, Taylor’s phone rings, the shrill sound causing me to flinch.

She answers, her eyes widening as her mouth drops open.

“T-Thanks. I’ll let her know.”

She ends the call and stares at me.

“What? Tay, tell me.” My heart races in my chest, the dying embers refusing to extinguish.

“It’s Grace. H-He’s awake.”

Chapter 58

I keep having thesame dream over and over again—Belle running through the gardens, the tall hedges hiding us from the rest of the world. Her eyes are dancing, her laughter a beautiful, tinkling sound I’ll never get sick of hearing. Her hair floats behind her, like she’s a fairy, imbuing my world with magic. The sunlight cascades over her features, bathing her in an otherworldly glow.

She squeals as I chase her and I laugh, my soul feeling light…like I can fly.

“Come and catch me, Maxwell!” She sticks out her tongue as she runs into the rose garden, the flowers in full bloom, the sweet scent toying with my senses. Her white sundress billows behind her.

Butterflies flit around the air and I feel so happy, so exhilarated.

But then the scene shifts.

Dark clouds sweep through the skies, blotting out the sun. The lush red blooms of the roses shrivel and melt, turning inky black as an icy gale hurls through the garden—aggressive and violent.

Belle is still laughing, seemingly oblivious to everything as panic takes root in my chest. Her dress turns dark gray, the hem dragging on the ground, gathering up muck and grime.

“Come catch me, Maxwell!”

But my feet are weighed down by cement blocks, and our distance grows. Desperation tears through me as I watch in horror the thorny bushes scratching her ivory skin, blood seeping out of the cuts, the droplets becoming macabre streams of art slithering down her body.

Then she crumbles in front of me, her body twisted and broken, and by the time I reach her, her beautiful tawny eyes are lifeless.

I’m too late.

My heart wrenches in pain as I collapse next to her when the first raindrops descend, the wind carrying the sound of her voice whispering, “Why didn’t you find me, Silas?”

“My darling, sweet Emma.” The words tumble out of my mouth.

Then the dreams will repeat themselves and each time, I’ll begin my desperate chase again, trying to catch Belle before the weather turns, before disaster strikes.

To save her. To keep her with me. To find her once more.

“Come catch me, Maxwell,” she cries as the skies turn sunny again.

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