Faded Perfection (Beautifully Flawed, #2) - SAMPLE

Chapter 1

48 HOURS LATER

I sat there with Adam's head in my lap, running my fingers through his hair until the tears stopped, and his breathing slowed. He was asleep, and I didn't know how to feel anymore. He flinched at my touch when he thought I'd blame him, but now it seemed to be the only thing holding him together...semi-together. He still blamed himself, and I didn't know how to fix it. I'd always been able to fix Adam, and now I didn't know how to because I was just as broken.

I moved his head onto a pillow and stood to go to the door. I closed it slowly behind me, and sunk to the floor with my back against it as I stared across the way.

I was so close to losing everything I loved. Bobby was dead. Tara was lingering on the edge of the darkness, and Adam...I didn't know what would happen to him. His grief was overpowering; it felt like all the air had been sucked from the earth, and I was suffocating from it, while drowning in my own ocean of pain.

I struggled to feel as my eyes bore into the faded wood door. I might never see two of my best friends walk through that door again. I'd certainly never see Bobby walk through it again. Finally, I bowed my head to my knees and sobbed. There was no one there to comfort me, but I wasn't sure that was what I needed. Adam needed me to be strong, so I would be—at least when he was watching.

I could feel my phone vibrating in my pocket, and I pulled it out slowly as I wiped my face. The number I feared wasn't there. The number I wished I had never seen.

"Hello?" I answered.

"Duckie?" Dad's voice was a shock to my system, and I had to take a deep breath.

"Daddy...Daddy," my voice cracked as a fresh set of tears streamed down my face. "Bobby—"

"I know—don't say it."

"What do I do?" I begged through hiccups. "I don't know what to do."

"Where's Adam?"

"Asleep."

"You need me, Duckie?"

"Yes," I whispered; "but Mom will kill you."

"Nothing is worth your pain—not a God damned stupid tattoo, especially not one that matches the man you'll marry someday."

"Adam's fucked up," I replied. I thought back to the hospital. He hadn't said a word, not one. He handed me the keys to the GLI and curled up on the back seat. Then he'd come home and stared at that cell phone until he admitted his guilt—that he thought the whole thing was his fault.

"We all are. None of us saw this coming...none of us could imagine..."

"I don't know if I can fix him...it's like he's not even there. He sobs, but doesn't speak—he holds me, but only to hang on."

"I know this won't make things better, but it's only been a few days—eventually everything will settle."

"I don't think you're right," I replied.

I heard his car start. "I'll be there as soon as traffic will allow. I love you, Duckie."

"I love you, too."

I hung up the phone and stared at the door again before standing and going to it. I placed my hand over the knob and pressed my face against the wood. Bobby's hands had touched these surfaces. It was the only thing left, pieces of him, scattered memories. Our childhood. Twenty years of happiness and he'd molded himself into a part of who I was. Now I was torn in two. I needed to stay strong for Adam, but I wanted to crawl in the same hole Bobby would be buried in.

The overwhelming pain of loving Bobby washed over me again and every touch remembered sliced a part of me away. Each laugh that echoed through my skull was a memory of intense happiness suddenly overruled by intense pain.

"River?" a groggy Adam asked from behind me.

I looked over my shoulder to see him standing in the doorway with his eyes wet, but the tears had stopped. I wondered if it was because there was none left.

"Hey," I replied as I let go of the knob.

"I heard you talking?"

I held my cell phone up.

"It was Dad," I answered.

"Your dad?"

I nodded.

"He heard?"

"He's coming."

"Now?"

I nodded.

"We need one good parent here," he answered as he stepped forward and closed the gap between us.

He pulled me into his arms and buried his face in my hair.

"I don't think I'll ever be the same again," he said.

It was the one thing that pained me as much as the loss of Bobby—what if Adam couldn't ever be Adam again?

What if I could never be River again?