Page 190 of On a Fault Line

The yelling coming from outside my bedroom gets louder, and it’s now that I can hear the distinct tone of Collins’s voice. He’s here.

Feeling a burst of energy, I make my way to the door and pull it open. Artificial light flitters in through the hallway, making me squint.

“I hear her door,” Graham says.

“She can stay at my new house,” Nic volunteers. “I have plenty of room and can keep a close watch on her.”

“Okay,” Graham agrees. “If you need me to send over anything while we figure out the next steps or switch off weeks to be at my place, just let me know.”

“Sounds good.”

They are discussing me—but without me. It’s as if a divorce has happened and custody of a child needs to be arranged.

I’m the child.

Me.

Adult me is the child.

This has been the approach of my brothers for the last year, so why change things up now?

My feet carry me toward the voices, and suddenly all sets of eyes turn to me. Mine find Collins first, softening toward his appearance.

I wasn’t expecting him to be here. And I definitely didn’t expect his poor face to look as beat-up as it does.

Running, I throw myself at the man who has captured my heart. I wrap my legs around his waist and anchor myself to him like he’s my lifeline. Deep down, I hope that my display of physical affection helps solidify my place in Collins’s life for my brothers to witness. Maybe that will help them understand that Collins is my person.

“You are here,” I say breathlessly, draping my arms around his neck.

Why is everyone being so quiet—so still?

“Get down, Penelope,” Collins says, but just for my ears.

Then I realize that everything I’m experiencing right now is one-sided, and the coldness I never thought I would feel in this man’s presence is now infiltrating the warmth we had toward one another for nearly one hundred days.

Collins’s arms stay at his side. When I look into his eyes, I see that they lack the life and love I am convinced I once felt and saw reflected back at me. But it’s vanished. It’s like I’m hugging a cold statue at a museum.

It’s like I’m hugging a stranger.

The fairy tale is over.

And I’ve been deluded enough to think it was all real.

My eyes look up into his, silently pleading. “Collins?”

He ignores me.

I give him a shake but am careful not to jostle him and cause him more pain.

His hands hover over me but don’t actually make contact.

My brothers curse under their breath. But I don’t care. They already know we’re together and will be together. Once the shock wears off, they’ll come around.

I’ll make them see that Collins and I can be good together.

Looking closer at the details of his face, it fully registers to me that his cheeks are swollen. His lip is cut and there’s bruising along his jawline. He needs some ice.

I slide down Collins’s body, finding the strength to stand on my own. With gentle hands, I cup both sides of his face and run my thumbs over all his wounds.

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