Page 115 of Desiring an Angel

“When he started moaning about not feeling well, we didn’t take him seriously—and we’ve dealt with guilt ever since learning we’d waited too long.”

My throat squeezed shut, but I forced words through. “You and Dad did an amazing job raising all us kids—don’t ever think otherwise. Sometimes shit happens that we can’t control, and life is what it is. I can’t complain about the childhood I had. With you. My four annoying sisters. Rhett. And lastly, Sky. She’s my sunshine, and you’re going to love her.”

“I always wanted another daughter,” Mom said with a teary laugh while Dad grumbled something about being even more outnumbered by all the women in our family.

“I’ll call you as soon as I know something,” I promised.

We said our goodbyes, and I hung up, finally ready for relaxation to creep in.

There was nothing more to do but wait. I closed my eyes and told myself to sleep. Enough drugs still filtered through my system that the lack of visitors allowed me to slip away.

40

Rhett

I sat and stared at the cup of coffee I hadn’t sipped from. Without doubt, it would taste like shit, same as the stuff in the hospital Mom had died at.

Fucking hospitals—I’d gained firsthand knowledge of why Ash hated them so much.

While thankful for them and the people showing up daily to help those in need, I wanted to blow up the building closing in on me. After sobbing like a baby in Skylar’s arms, I felt drained. Emotionless, just plain old bone-weary tired from my outburst in the hallway.

Skylar’s simple bit of logic about every emotion having validity lingered in my mind—with potency. I recognized how my parents had failed in teaching me that, and fuck, did I want to do better.

A spring of feelings began to once more well up inside me as the minutes passed, and I focused on them rather than forcing them away as I’d been taught to in order to escape ridicule.

It was time to label the shit. Own it.

The churning stomach? The fucker causing that was fear. Raw and visceral in its attack.

My clenched jaw tightened from anger over the fact I was the one responsible for Ash’s driving. Had I not taken off the night before, he never would have gone looking for me. He never would have vomited in his car and gotten into the accident.

Itchiness in my limbs, the strain of tensed muscles grew from impatience at having to wait for goddamn answers when all I wanted to do was drive forward in creating a plan for our future regardless of how it might look.

Once I relented the hold I’d kept on myself since childhood, a slew of words rushed through my head, and I called them all by name.

Guilt.

Desperation.

Regret.

Longing.

Fucking helplessness that made me feel unsteady on my feet, trembling in my soul without anything to hold, no rock, no life jacket.

Eyes closed, I attempted to slow my breathing, my heart rate, that thumped inside my chest like it wanted to escape while still allowing the emotions their place.

It wasn’t weakness to feel—and giving them space to live inside me took strength.

My parents had been wrong. I had been wrong to let their bullshit dictate the man I’d become.

But it wasn’t too late to change.

“Ashton said you have to apologize for being an asshole—”

Skylar’s voice cut off with a squeak as I jerked my head toward her. She shook like a leaf standing beside me, but how she rubbed her palms over her too-large sweats suggested nervousness rather than her usual inability to stay still.

“You spoke with him.” No jealousy rose to coat my words—I didn’t even experience that sentiment surprisingly.

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