Page 27 of Finding Our Reality

What the hell happened to him?

It looks like someone tried to kill him. With a thousand ice picks.

Marcum’s words play in my mind.Medical discharge. Someone did try to kill him. They tried to kill My Ry. Take him away from me.

For twelve years, he’s beenawayfrom me. But notgone. Not gone from this world. I’ve already lost too much, and the world nearly snatched the life away from him too? And I had no idea.Why does everyone I love get taken away from me? I can’t even bear the thought of it.

My purse and work bag slip from my limp arm, drawing his attention. He turns his head, ready to ignore the possible distraction at his side when he sees me. I’m too upset to even dissect the small smile that tugs at the corner of his mouth. Yanking his earbuds out, he turns off the machine and carefully steps down.

“I thought you left already. What’s going…” His voice immediately trails off when we lock eyes. Swooping in front of me, his massive frame shadows my own. He grabs my upper arms. Firmly. Almost too firmly. Just like how he used to hug me. Nearly too firmly.

“Lulu, what’s wrong. Did something happen? Is it Marcum? Ray or Teresa? What’s wrong?”

My gaze falls to his chest. His perfectly unscathed, beautiful, strong chest. From the front, you’d never know anything was wrong. But all you have to do is look at his upper left shoulder to see the damage. Knowing it’s there is almost too much to bear. It has me closing my eyes, begging my tears to stay in. I hate crying in front of people.

“Okay, Lulu, now you’re scaring the shit out of me. Talk to me.”

Taking several deep breaths, I open my eyes and swallow against the basketball-size lump in my throat. I make some kind of weird gulping noise. He follows my line of sight to his upper arm and the nasty scar that’s on display. “You’re hurt. Someone tried to kill you, didn’t they? How could you do that to me?”

His face falls into a look of utter despair. His heart is breaking because mine is breaking. Well, I mean, if he still had a heart, that is. “Oh, Lulu. It’s okay. I’m okay.” His hands travel to my face, cupping my cheeks. “It doesn’t hurt that much anymore, I promise. Don’t worry about me.”

Don’t worry about him? Has he lost his mind?

I have despised him ever since I got that letter, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t worry about him. I’ve worried about him and his welfare every single day since then. Hell, he’s probably the reason I had to start using anti-wrinkle cream at the age of twenty.

Visions of him lying in a street somewhere covered in blood consume my mind. I feel like I’m about to have convulsions. And he wants me to chill out? Not worry? Pretend like the entire half of his upper back doesn’t look like a shark tried to eat him as an appetizer?

I press my hand into my sternum. Hard.

He is utterly insane.

I need to get out of here before I burst into sobs. And on top of everything, he’s still got his hands planted lovingly against my cheeks. Like we’re still ‘Ry and Lulu’ and nothing has changed. Well, we aren’t them anymore, despite the names that fall from our lips. “You have to stop touching me. I can’t think.”

“What if I don’t wanna stop touching you?”

I bore a hole into his pale green eyes. “But you did. Nearly twelve years ago you wanted to stop. And instead, you went and got…” What did he get? Shot? Blown up? Chopped up with a samurai sword? I don’t even know how to describe his injury, so I just nod at it, jiggling his fingers against my skin. I add a layer of disgust to my voice. “Now, get your hands off me.”

He doesn’t like to be reminded of the rights he gave up all those years ago. He drops his hands and steps to the side.

I scoop up my purse and work bag and race from the gym. I’m fast, but not fast enough to escape my tears. Not fast enough to escape my anger. Not fast enough to escape the pain of Ry leaving me behind.

Not fast enough to escape that reality.

Chapter 12

ELLA

I’m staring at the brown liquid of my Long Island Iced Tea when Will places a plate of bright orange cantaloupe in front of me.

“Ahh, trying to ease the bad mood with fruit.” Holt nods in appreciation at Will. “Smart move.”

I ignore their banter, popping a juicy piece of fruit in my mouth. Cullen’s been making some sort of fancy cantaloupe and mint cocktail for the past few weeks, so this won’t be the first time I’ve had one my favorite foods as a bar time snack.

Will tosses me a napkin. “I wish you would tell us what’s wrong.”

“Nothing is wrong.”

Will cocks his head. “Your eyes are bloodshot, and your eye makeup is smudged. I could be wrong, but I don’t think that smoky eye was specially applied for your night out with your uncle and cousins.”

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