Page 36 of Beautiful Ruins
“Would you stop moving?” She swatted my thigh, but it did nothing to stem the anxiety spiralling inside me.
“I can’t help it,” I said, blinking rapidly as I stared up at the ceiling.
My fingers twitched on my thighs, but I managed to keep the rest of my body still. It was hard enough to believe she’d actually agreed to help me, and I was spiralling.
With a small pout of concentration, she sat back and ran her gaze over my face, pressing the sponge to my cheekbone one last time. “Are you sure this is a good idea?” She tilted my head one way, then the other, frowning as she inspected her handiwork. “The club isn’t the same as you remember it. It’s worse.”
I kept my face neutral, the cold weight of my memories pressing down on me. “It’s reckless. But it’s the best I’ve got. And sitting on my hands isn’t going to bring the truth anycloser. Rowan knows more than he’s letting on, which means it’s likely someone else at the club knows something, too. He must have people he trusts.”
Jasmine lifted an eyebrow as she pulled her hand away, slowly, like she was already regretting her decision to help me. “And you think getting yourself into trouble is going to get you anywhere?”
I pinned her with a glare. “What else do you suggest I do, then?” My voice cut through the familiarity of my bedroom. Of her. Of everything I’d run away from.
Jasmine frowned, and for a moment, she just stared, her eyes darting over my face. It was the same look she had worn plenty of times in the past. It told me she wasn’t happy about it, but she was going to help me, nevertheless.
“Well,” she said, dropping the compact into her makeup bag. “Just remember to keep your mouth shut. Don’t draw attention to yourself. You can’t go in there half-cocked. It won’t end well for you. Or for me. And God help me, don’t mention Logan around anyone.” She shook her head, pressing her lips into a tight line. “God, Rowan is going to bury me for this. And I won’t even blame him.”
I knew she was right, knew that I’d be the one to suffer for it in the end, but I didn’t care. It was Logan. It was my mother. It was everything I’d left behind.
I threw myself at my former best friend and wrapped my arms around her. “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” I said, smacking kiss after kiss to her cheek. “I promise I’ll be on my best behaviour.”
I never thought she’d speak to me again, let alone be sitting there in front of me, taking care of the visible stains, my ex had left. She still hadn’t pushed me for answers, and I was grateful for that.
We both knew there was no guarantee in that, but shehugged me back anyway and I buried my face in her blonde hair, breathing in the familiar scent of her.
Jasmine finally pulled back, leaving her hands on my shoulders. “You do realise I’ve heard that promise before. And every time, you and Logan dragged me into some sort of shit.” She gave a sharp sniff, more annoyance than emotion, and turned to her makeup bag, fingers fumbling with the zipper. “Not all of us had parents who could bail us out of jail, Sades.”
My chest tightened, a lump forming in my throat. Her words stabbed deeper than she could have known. Even now, my father was still bailing me out. And I was still the selfish brat who didn’t understand how much he’d put on the line for me. I was taking for granted the very air I breathed. Probably always had. But I wasn’t about to admit that.
Jasmine had to grow up fast, and I had been too wrapped up in my own shit to see how hard things had been for her back then. Because she was an only child, she had to care for her mother after her early onset dementia diagnosis. And that was on top of everything else life threw at us.
I’d forgotten what it had been like for her. What was easier to remember was what it had felt like to be us, to have her and Logan by my side. Just the three of us. The trouble we’d get into. The messes that had often started with one of my ridiculous ideas.
A knot formed in my stomach, the kind that used to hit just before we got caught. Logan had never minded taking the fall for me. But Jasmine always had something to say about it. It went from “Coop’s going to wreck the mayor’s daughter’s party,” which turned into, “They’re burning letters into the grass again,” and finished with, “Logan Knight, you’re under arrest for vandalism.”
And just like Jasmine had reminded me, my father had always been there to drag us out of whatever corners we foundourselves backed into. But Jasmine didn’t have that. She only had us.
Then Logan died, and I’d run. Stopped answering calls. Stopped showing up. Let everyone drift while I hid myself away, hoping grief would feel less lonely if I made it mine alone.
Being back in this house wasn’t helping. The same scuffed skirting boards. The same view of the empty street through the smeared glass. Even the scent of old pine cleaner clung to the walls, like it had soaked into the bones of this place, just as grief had into mine.
It was excruciating, living so close to where everything up until that night had been planned, and thinking of it all made me ache for things I didn’t know how to want anymore.
Rowan included.
Shifting closer, I rubbed Jasmine’s upper arm. “How is your mum?” I said, my eyes darting over her face.
I didn’t want to sound too hopeful. Didn’t want her thinking I was trying to worm my way back in to her life so quickly. But God, I missed being part of her world.
She chewed on her bottom lip for a long moment, still fiddling with the zipper on her makeup bag. A breeze rattled the blind cords behind her, sending a few loose strands of her hair across her face.
“She’s doing better since they started her on the new medication.” She blew out a breath with a small half-shrug and tucked her hair back behind her ear. “I guess we’ll wait and see.” Her face softened a little, giving me a glimpse of the girl whose trust I’d betrayed, whose friendship I’d thrown away for grief.
I nodded. “Well, maybe next time you visit her, I could come?” I bit the inside of my cheek, anticipation and fear battling their own war in my mind.
Would she push me away the way I had her?
Jasmine froze, her fingers still gripping the makeup bag. Then she looked at me, really looked. A sad smile formed—one that pressed hard on all the soft places I’d barely held together.
