Page 168 of Closer

And then I go rigid, my breath catching mid-inhale.

She’s lying there, her skin a patchwork of bruises and bandages.

Fuck. This is all my fault.

My voice cracks. “Lil…”

Her eyes flutter open, those whiskey eyes that have haunted my dreams for years. They widen when they land on me, a kaleidoscope of emotions swirling in their depths.

“Sebastian?” She struggles to sit up, wincing in pain.

I’m at her side in an instant, my hands hovering over her. “Hey, hey, take it easy.”

She ignores me, pushing herself up against the pillows. “You’re here.”

“I’m always here,” I say. “How are you?”

“I’m fine.” She lowers her gaze, her fingers plucking at the thin hospital blanket.

Bullshit. She’s not fine. She’s in a fucking hospital bed because of me.

I sink into the chair beside her, my head falling into my hands. “Lil, I’m so sorry. I never meant for any of this to happen.”

She’s quiet for a long moment, the only sound the steady beep of the machines monitoring her vitals.

“I think I remember.”

“Lil, I…”

“Did you really kill my father?”

The question hangs in the air between us, heavy and suffocating.

I lift my head, meeting her gaze head-on. “Yes.”

“So, my dreams aren’t dreams. Their memories.” Her breath hitches, her eyes filling with tears.

“What exactly do you remember?”

Her eyes focus on me, a maelstrom of emotions swirling in their depths. Confusion, fear, anger… and something else I can’t quite put my finger on.

“You, as a teenager. You called me a princess even back then,” she whispers. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

I hunch forward, my elbows braced on my knees. “I wanted to, Lil. God, you have no idea how many times I almost did. But I was a coward. I was afraid of losing you. I didn’t want to force you to remember something you didn’t want to.”

“You should have told me. I had a right to know.” She traps her lip between her teeth.

I reach for her hand, needing to feel her skin against mine. She flinches but doesn’t pull away. “I’m sorry.”

A tear slips down her cheek, and I brush it away with my thumb.

“I’m tired of people trying to protect me,” she says.

“I know. And I’m sorry for that, too.”

“What happens now?”

I blow out a breath. “I don’t know. But I do know one thing.”

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