Page 116 of Bound to a Killer
Frankie nods silently, easing into the seat beside me and handing over one of the steaming cups. “She’ll be okay,” she says, her lips flattening into a quiet smile.
I wrap my fingers around it, but take little comfort in its warmth. My eyes flick back to Aria. Even in sleep, her brows aredrawn tight, and gut-wrenching splotches of plum mar her neck in a way that fills my vision with fresh shades of red.
I grit my teeth and look away, shifting my focus back to the coffee. I’m lucky her mom cracked his skull instead of me. Otherwise, I’d be in handcuffs right now, dragged for questioning instead of sitting here beside Aria. She didn’t hesitate. Just grabbed the nearest lamp and swung. Hit him hard enough to drop him where he stood. At least, that’s what I’ve gathered in passing.
I’ll be honest, I didn’t think she had it in her. But I’m relieved someone was there. Someone who acted before it was too late.
With a soft flex of my jaw, I raise my cup and take a sip, only to pull back with a scrunch of my nose as the sweetness hits the back of my throat. “How much sugar is in this?”
The corner of her mouth quirks into a smirk. “A decent amount. Figured you could use something to sweeten up your day a bit.”
She takes a quick sip from her own cup as I sink back into my chair, resting the coffee between my legs, knees spread slightly. “Thanks,” I mutter, releasing a quiet sigh. “Go home, Frankie. You’ve got an early flight. No point staying up too long.”
A restless bounce works its way into my leg, the light mix of coffee sloshing inside the cup with each thump. We should’ve gone back to Chicago weeks ago. Her new plan now is to start college there next semester, live in a dorm, maybe build connections with other girls for once. Something she never had the chance to do with the way the past few years went, especially with me.
We both know why we’re still here. Why I’m still here.
She turns to face me, slowly, pausing for a beat as she searches for the right words. “Ledger…” She waits until I meet her gaze, her gray eyes steady, voice low. “Don’t waste any more time torturing yourself. Anyone who pays attention can see the way you look at her. How hard you try to fight it. But you don’t have to do that anymore. You don’t need to keep denying yourself of happiness anymore. We’ve spent so much of our lives doing that. Pushing feelings aside, making excuses, trying to survive through hard choices. But that’s over now. We get to choose how to live.Reallylive. And that goes for you, too.”
I swallow the grit in my throat, unable to respond. Unable to reach deeper than the part of me that still believes I’m not worthy of love. That Aria will be better off without me. That I’ll disappear from her life just as fast as I entered it, reclaiming her choice for her, to spare her the pain of regretting it later.
I’ve spent so long expecting the worst out of people, preparing for rejection once my demons came into the light. Bracing the moment she, too, remembers what a monster I am and walks away. But Frankie’s right.
It all comes from fear.
Fear of handing over my heart to someone who could drop it. Fear of being seen. Fear of hoping there’s truly a change for someone like me, realizing that maybe I’m not a lost cause after all.
“Don’t push her away. Not after you’ve finally gotten her back again—for both of your sakes.”
With a small nod, Frankie rises, her gaze drifting back toward Aria. A faint smile plays at her lips. “Promise me you’ll be okay? That you’ll lean on each other while I’m gone?”
I set my cup down and rise to pull her into a final embrace, knowing it’ll be a while until I see her again. “You never have to worry about me,” I murmur, ruffling her hair. “Just promise me you’ll still call so I won’t have to worry about two girls instead of one.”
She laughs, ducking out of my grip. “Yeah, yeah. We’ve been over this already.”
We trade a few more words and half-joking promises beforeshe finally heads out. A ghost of a smile still lingers on my face until a sharp noise behind me yanks my focus back. My chest sinks as I spin toward the hospital bed.
Aria twists her head to the side for a moment, eyes squeezed shut, a frown pinched between her brows. One cheek is flushed, etched with faint lines from the pillow. She draws in a deep, shuddering breath, then goes quiet again. Still asleep.
I step closer and crouch beside her, bringing myself level with her face. My hand lifts, hesitating midair before I let my fingers brush her cheek, her skin warm beneath the pads of my fingers. Her eyes stay closed, lashes fanned over flushed cheeks as I drink her in. That delicate upturned nose, tinged pink and spreading to her cheeks. The lines between her brows. Those lips, plump and familiar, pull at something deep in me.
A damp strand of hair clings to her cheek. I smooth it between my thumb and index finger, focusing on its silkiness before tucking it gently behind her ear. She exhales a soft moan.
My pulse spikes as she shifts again, her brow twitching, face tightening. Her lashes flicker, stuttering for a beat, then part, her eyes snapping open to find me instantly. “L-Ledger…” she gasps, immediately attempting to sit up, but flinches from the IV still attached to her wrist before sinking back to her pillow.
My hand slips down to gather hers, wrapping her cold fingers in my warm palms. Her voice is heaven with my name on her tongue.
“It’s okay, baby. I’m here,” I murmur, smoothing a thumb over the back of her hand. “I’m right here.”
I’ll never leave your side ever again. Not as long as I’m still breathing.
“Where’s Mom? S-Steven, he?—”
“He’s gone, Aria,” I tell her gently, my grip tightening around her hand as I tilt my head, scanning every inch of her face, still filled with eternal gratitude.
Her forehead creases as she winces, struggling through the fog of thoughts, trying to make sense of my words. Her pupils suddenly blow wide, darting to the door as if she expects someone to barge in and rip us apart.
“It was your mom,” I tell her, helping her piece it together. “She…” I pause, choosing my words carefully, not wanting to distress her so soon after waking. “She got rid of him. He’s gone.”
