Page 86 of Beautifully Reckless

My eyes flick to Lani, her eyes flooding with tears, before I shift them to Ringo’s mother.

“My apologies for disrupting your household, Mrs Musgrove. Dinner was lovely. I’m sorry I can’t finish it. I’ve lost my appetite.”

“Abs…” Ringo murmurs softly as I pass him, but I don’t look back. Not at him, or anyone else as I carry my plate to the kitchen. Since I don’t know where to scrape off the scraps, I just leave it on the bench and quickly slip out of the room.

“I’m sorry,” Millie calls after me, but I don’t stop. I head straight to the only place I know I can disappear.

Ringo’s room.

As soon as I’m through the door, the first tear spills free, but I keep moving, hurrying into the bathroom, to lock myself inside.

There’s shouting coming from downstairs, Ringo’s familiar boom louder than any.

Staring at myself in the mirror, I reallyhatewhat I see.

Will I always have to explain myself to people?

Why is it any of their business?

I guess it’s not. I could probably just refuse to talk, but for some reason, I always feel like I have to explain. I have to fight for everything I do and every decision I make which seems to disappoint, disgust, or confuse everyone around me.

Maybe I should take a page from Dee’s book. Stop talking altogether. Keep my voice in and not share it with anyone. I know it’s something that annoys people about her, and they give up tryingto get answers from her because she simply doesn’t speak to them.

Dropping my gaze from the mirror, I peel off my clothes and run the shower.

It’s a huge double shower. I could easily lay down on the floor, it’s so long and wide.

“Angel?”

Ringo’s voice comes through the door as he knocks, and I freeze, one foot inside the shower as I watch the doorknob jiggle.

“Abbey?”

“I’m taking a shower,” I call over the rushing water, feeling a little exposed standing here naked while he’s on the other side of the door.

“Can we talk first?” he calls through the timber separating us, his voice laced with concern.

“I’ll come find you later,” I call, the confidence I had downstairs slipping.

There’s a pause for a few long beats, before there’s a light thud on the door.

My heart twists like a hand is crushing it as I picture Ringo on the other side of the door with his forehead against the timber.

Shit.

Slapping my hand over my mouth to muffle my whimper, I hold everything in for as long as I can, not wanting him to hear me break again.

It seems to be all I do these days.

Cry.

Shatter.

Fall apart.

“Promise you’ll come find me?” he calls after a long while, and even as silent tears stream down my cheeks, I somehow manage to keep my voice level as I call back.

“I promise.”

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