Page 157 of Hawthorne

I stay quiet for a little bit, not knowing what to say. When I first entered this room, I was ready to confess my undying love for him if it helped him get better, but now, it seems as if everything that was meant to be said is locked inside a nailed-shut coffin, unable to get out.

After a good night of sleep and watching him better has grounded me. Has reminded me of how broken things are.

“How are you feeling?” I ask instead.

“Like I got shot,” he grumbles.

“Is that something you can joke about?” I hiss, baffled at his ability to joke in such a serious situation. “You could have died!”

He looks at me, amusement swirling in his eyes, and I bite my tongue to avoid saying something I shouldn’t, “I’m alive.”

“I can see that. And well enough to throw stupid jokes around, too,” I snap.

Vincent moves, and the sheets drop, showing the left half of his chest fully bandaged and his left arm tightly clutched to his chest with an immobiliser.

Watching him struggle to sit upright with just one arm wakes me to action. I lean forward and reach out to him to help him get comfortable. He doesn’t complain as I help him but cracks a small smile when he finally looks somewhat comfortable.

“Was it too soon?”

“What?” I ask absentmindedly as I rearrange the sheets, covering his lap.

“The joke,” he answers, still smiling. “I’m fine, you know.”

It only irks my anger. The anger created by the fear of losing him, for good.

“You idiot,” I scold. “You could have died! What were you even thinking?”

His face twists like I just asked a ridiculous question. “Isn’t it obvious?” he snarks back. “I was thinking you could die!”

“So what?” I say with a high pitch coming out at the end.

Standing up, I stalk closer to him and lean down, bringing our faces closer. “It wasn’t your place!”

“That’s rich.” He chuckles darkly. “You think I was just going to stand by and watch you die? What for? For a Crown that, by the way, Idon’tfucking want?”

“Does it make your skin crawl so much you’d be willing to die just to avoid it? Are you what, stupid?”

His face reddens while his jaw ticks and his frown deepens. For a moment, his narrowed eyes study me intently before he thickly enunciates every word, his outrage dripping from every syllable.

“Yes, I am fucking stupid!”

My mouth opens to speak, but he beats me to it.

“I am stupidly in love with you,” his tone keeps rising, “madly and irrevocably in love with you. And even if I fucked things upso bad I can’t fix it, at least I’d rather not live than live in a world without you.”

My mouth clamps shut, every possible answer failing me. Warmth spreads through my body as my heart wildly pumps the blood away.

I love you, too.

Instead, the words don’t leave the cage I created inside me. They’re so stuck inside that I choke on the pain he left behind during that engagement party.

It still feels like it was today, even though a month and a half have gone by…The way he stoically held my gaze while my world fell apart. It would have hurt less to have him rip my heart out with his own hands.

Growing up, this rose-tinted view of the world had me believe that while unfortunate events can happen in life, love is always warm and fulfilling. Except, it isn’t.Vincent has taught me that love hurts. It will bend you until you finally break, changing every atom in one’s being. Leaving behind nothing but the ashes of everything you used to be before.

The worst is that it took him doing it for me to realise that everyone has done the same to me…

My parents. Even Aunt Lizzie.

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