Angelic (Book 2)

Sixteen

            That you tried to off yourself again.

            “Sorry,” I apologized softly. “I drifted off.”

            “That’s okay.” He seemed to notice the odd situation in that moment, that even though the deep tub and motherload of bubbles hid everything from sight, I was still naked feet away. “I, uh . . . I brought you something to sleep in. There’s a Laundromat a couple blocks away, and I can wash our clothes tomorrow.”

            “I thought you wanted to return to the safe house.”

            “Not at the moment,” he muttered, setting the shirt down. “There’s food, when you want it.” He hesitated a moment more, like he might say something else, but then promptly left.

            The bath water had become tepid, so I drained it, toweled off, and slipped into the shirt he brought me. It fell to my knees, covering enough. I ran my fingers through my hair, working out the knots and tangles, and mildly satisfied, left.

            The TV was on, switched to Comedy Central, and I had to grit my teeth. Tia watched that all the time.

            Don’t think about it.

            Except I was tired of not thinking about it. Avoiding things was what always got me into trouble.

            “Hungry?”

            August bought a box of pizza. He sat at the table with it, downing what appeared to be his third slice. “No,” I said, sitting on the bed.

            “You should eat something.”

            “I’m fine.”

            “Don’t even say those words to me.”

            So I remained silent, staring at my fingers resting in my lap. He sighed harshly, moving from the chair to perch beside me.

            “Ellie.”

            I said nothing.

            “Ellie Armstrong, you better look at me right now.”

            My gaze lifted to his. He had me. Ensnared me. There was no possibility of looking away.

            His hand splayed against my neck, fingers wrapping around the back, thumb pressing into my chin.

            “I haven’t touched a lick of alcohol,” he spoke suddenly. “Not since . . . then.”

            Since you shoved me.

            “That letter scared me half to death, Ellie. Why would you think killing yourself would be the appropriate solution?”

            I shook my head. “I didn’t see any other options.”

            “Of course there are other options.”

            “There weren’t.”

            His hand deserted my neck, running over my shoulder and down my arms. He cradled my injured wrists in both his hands, eying the bruised and marred flesh. “I messed everything up.”

            “What?”

            “I shouldn’t have said what I did,” he continued. “Throwing all that on you . . . there was enough on your plate.”