steps forward.
As one, my friends moved toward me, ready to steady me, to break my fall. But maybe I needed to crash into the filthy gravel, let it scrape away all the ugly parts of me until nothing but clean, raw blood showed. I couldn’t look at them.
I threw the bottle between us, stopping them in their tracks. The bottle didn’t even break—just thumped to the ground and started spilling amber liquid.
Gravel dug into my soles as I tugged off my shoes and kept moving toward Hendrix on unsteady feet.
“I told you to keep your mouth shut. I told you not to tell anyone. I told you to leave me alone.” I threw my shoes to the ground, like a toddler throwing toys.
I was directly in front of him now, wishing I’d kept the shoes on so I wouldn’t have to look up to meet his resigned stare.
“I told you!” I screamed into his face.
He pressed his lips together but didn’t respond, hardly moved other than the rise and fall of his labored breathing. He was barely keeping it together too.
But I didn’t give a shit. This was my mental breakdown. He could wait his turn.
The realization that that was what was happening to me—that I was acting like a completely unhinged, crazed lunatic—was the last straw. Because that’s what I was.
Unhinged.
Driving drunk.
Throwing things.
Screaming at people.
Crazy.
Lunatic.
The tears I’d been holding at bay all day burst out of me—a dam breaking. But even as I started crying, sobbing, I railed against what was happening to me. What I’d allowed myself to become.
“Why?” I cried as I shoved Hendrix. He hardly even leaned back at the force of my hands on his chest. “Why did you tell them? They know. They can see. I’m . . . I begged you . . .”
I pounded his chest with my fists, pulled at his sweatshirt. “You told them my secret but I kept yours!”
When the reality of the situation washed over me, I made myself look up into his eyes again. His jaw was tight, a muscle jumping in his cheek as if he was grinding his teeth, his eyes blazing with emotions I was not equipped to decipher in my current state.
But he was still there, still standing as solid as a stone pillar.
How many times had he saved me—from myself?
I sobbed, the energy draining out of me as I dropped my gaze.
“I kept your secret.” The anger that had edged my voice just moments before drained away, and I gripped his sweatshirt. “It wasn’t me, Hendrix. I didn’t . . . I would never . . . I’m sorry.”
His hands landed on my back just as my knees wobbled. He was finally touching me, finally holding me.
“Please believe me. Please, please, please . . .” I had no idea what I was pleading for. My voice was barely above a whisper as I sagged against him.
I fully expected him to push me off, dump me on the ground and walk away. It was all my fault. It was all my fault.
“No, it’s not.” His low voice reverberated through his chest. My whole body shook with emotion, and my knees buckled.
But Hendrix was there, his arms tightening around me, keeping me from falling.
I was heavy in his arms, a dead weight, a burden. But he’d never let me down, never wavered, even as I’d pushed him away at every step. And he didn’t waver now, didn’t let me fall.
His strong arms banded around my back as I clung to him, one hand going to the back of my head.
“It’s OK, baby,” he whispered against my hair. “It’s going to be OK.”
A small glimmer of peace flickered in my chest at his words, a tiny bit of sanity returning, reminding me he was here, that I was not alone, that my friends had come too.
Harlow. Mena. Amaya.
They were all here, all watching me unravel, watching Hendrix hold me together.
My addled thoughts were interrupted by my heaving stomach.
“Shit.” I lifted my head from Hendrix’s chest, gave him one wide-eyed look, then leaned to the side and vomited.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Donna
It didn’t take me long to realize the bed wasn’t my own. The light on my face was coming from a different direction from where my window should be, and the pillow was softer than mine. It also smelled like Amaya—that feminine, light perfume my friend wore.
My head ached. It felt as if someone were squeezing it between big, strong hands, every thought coming through a fog.
I remembered