as I can’t bring myself to care about a childish kiss, either.
The death of my son has turned me into a broken husk of a man. If ever I was capable of such frivolities as love, that time has long since passed.
“When I got pregnant with Roark, I had a choice. Keep the baby, the son of the man that I knew I was destined to marry. Or destroy it and, along with that, all ties to you.” Her hands reach out, gripping the railing of the balcony, and she stares downward, the sight of which sets my teeth on edge.
“Why don’t we talk in here?”
“This is what excites you, isn’t it? Staring death in the face?”
“Amelia. C’mon. Talk inside.”
She turns around, and with the red, puffiness of her eyes, I can see she’s been crying. “I loved Roark. I know you don’t believe that, but I did. Every morning, I woke up and thought, Today is the day I’m going to be the mother he deserves.” The crack of her voice sets off another round of tears that she quickly wipes from her cheeks. “And every day I failed him. I failed him because I was distraught over how to understand and please my husband.”
Of course, she’d blame that on me, but I don’t risk igniting her mood, seeing as I don’t know what the hell she came to do out on my balcony yet. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I didn’t give you a chance. Come inside.” I hold out my hand to her, flicking my fingers. “We’ll talk about this in here. In my room.”
“I think I get it now, though,” she says, continuing to ignore my request. “That freedom of knowing that, in the next breath, you could easily cease to exist. Do you think Roark felt that?”
Heart pounding in my throat, I step toward her, and that’s when she hikes her leg over the railing, literally straddling the line between life and death.
“Amelia, don’t do this. You don’t have to do this. Let’s talk. We can start over.” I don’t even know what I’m saying to her, or if I even believe such a thing is possible, but the urgency to get her back on this side of the balcony seems to have taken over my vocal chords. I take another step, and she shifts, the abrupt movement forcing me back to keep her from doing something stupid.
“There’s no starting over. The night Roark died? I saw pure hatred in your eyes. If you ever felt anything for me, it died alongside him. And I don’t blame you.” Her gaze lowers from mine, as she seems to catch her breath. “But I kept loving you in spite of it. There’s never been a time when I stopped loving you, Lucian.” She slips, tumbling over the edge of the railing, and panic explodes through my muscles, jerking me forward on instinct as I reach out and grab her arm. It’s not until I capture her hand that I realize my mistake. Pain bullets up my wrist and into my shoulder, while the full weight of her dangles from my once-broken arm.
“Ah, fuck!” I grit out through the agony tearing up my muscles. “Somebody, help me!”
Tears shine in her eyes, as she stares up at me, captured only by her delicate wrist. “You can let me go now.”
“No.” Bracing my foot against the edge of the railing, I reach out with my good arm. “Take my other hand. Please, Amelia. I can pull you up with this hand.”
“I want you to let me go. I want to be with Roark. I promise I’ll be a good mother to him this time. You won’t have to worry.”
My arm trembles as I lean further over the railing and attempt to reach for her with my stronger arm. I can’t even lift her enough to capture her wrist. “Please, take my hand. I’m begging you.”
With intense focus, I try to flex my shoulder, to pull her up so I can grab her, but an agonizing sensation tears through my muscles, as if it’s separating from my body.
She manages to wriggle loose.
A sound of excruciating pain rips through my chest, echoing in the night.
In seconds, she hits the pavement, and a red pool crawls over the cement creating a halo of blood around her head that’s visible in the triggered floodlights.
Balling my trembling hands into tight fists, I rest them against my temples and slide down the edge of the wall.