Royal’s hand covered mine, gripping on for dear life, and moving, I guided his cheek to make him look at me. His eyes were completely bloodshot, red and dark-rimmed. “Royal?”
A silence filled the room, and I brought him completely to me, guiding him back with me under the sheets. Together, I held him close, and he buried his face in my neck.
“Em…” was all he said, my name in harsh and tortured tones. He hadn’t sounded this way before.
“Hey, talk to me.” I folded my fingers into his hair, praying to God he’d talk to me. That he’d let some of this out. Whatever it was, he didn’t have to do this alone. Thick arms eventually moved around me, and seriously, I questioned his ability to fuse me into his flesh. He held me so hard, so long.
His lips pulled apart on my neck. “I saw their faces, Em… I see them all the time.”
“Who, babe? Who?” He sounded so terrible, tears burning my own eyes. I felt so much pain in his voice. What the hell was going on?
Coarse fingers dug into my flesh, my boyfriend holding on for dear life. “My mom. My sister,” he rasped, tugging me into him hard. “What the fuck? Why can’t I let go?”
Why would he want to? Let go of them. “Why do you need to let go?”
“Because I’m a piece of shit,” he gritted, his hands so hard on my flesh. He pulled me hard. “Because it’s my fault they’re dead.”
He’d said something like this before, admitted he was the reason they’d died when his dad hit him once. He said he deserved it. But how? “How was it your fault?”
Eventually, with some coaxing, I got him to pull away, to face me, face this. His eyes weren’t just lined in red but glassy, a shine to them like he straddled a thin line on the cusp of snapping. Maybe he was on the brink, these moments with me the only ones keeping him from hacking that rope clear through.
“I got so sick,” he said, the swallow hard in his throat. “I got sick, and I was scared.”
“Okay.” I smoothed my hands on his face.
He gripped one. “My family and I were supposed to go skiing. The whole family. My dad. Me. My mom and my sister. Because I got sick I couldn’t go, and my dad stayed with me. He wanted Grace and my mom to still go, though. Didn’t want to ruin their time. He used to do things like that. Be so nice.”
“Your sister’s name was Grace?” I smiled a little. “That’s a nice name.”
“Yeah, it was.” His tone hardened, his expression as well. He swallowed. “So they went. Went without me and Dad, but that was okay. I wanted that, too. Wanted them to have fun, but things got so worse after they left. My fever was crazy… I was only seven. I…”
He didn’t finish, and I held his hand, feeling he needed that.
He closed his mouth against my skin. “I got scared, Em. I got freaked because I thought I was going to die and I wanted to see my mom and sister. I wanted them home with me and was such a fucking brat. I begged my dad to call them, lost my mind until he did, and he didn’t even need to. He had it covered. He was taking care of me, but I still wanted more.”
“Royal—”
“They died that night.” The words shot through me, the tears falling down from my eyes but not from his. He wouldn’t let that happened, absolutely shaking in front of me. His nostrils flared. “A snowstorm. They couldn’t catch a flight in the weather, so they rented a car and drove to get my bitch ass—”
“Don’t say that about yourself.” I brought his head to me, forcing his forehead against mine. I’d make him listen to me. He had to. I shook him. “You were a child, you hear me? What happened to them was not your fault. You were just a kid.”
“A kid with blood on my hands.” He forced my hands away, gripping them. “And child or not, that’s truth. I don’t deserve to have any memories of them. I need to let go. I don’t deserve…”
What did he deserve, then? Was it pain? The beatings inflicted on him by his father in result of all this? Did he deserve to have all the happy times fall away with their memories? This may not be true, but he sure felt that way. He honestly felt he deserved it all.
Things made so much sense now.
In a single motion, he was off my bed, but in a second I had his arm. He wasn’t going to run from this. He wasn’t going to run from me.
“Well, I won’t let you forget,” I urged, grabbing him and throwing my arms around him. His body shook, absolutely quivering in my arms. He was a simmering volcano, only two seconds from the brink of eruption. I pressed my lips to his ear. “I’m going to make you hold on to them, you hear me? You’re going to keep every moment, every feeling, because I won’t let you forget the good things. I refuse.”
An ache rumbled deep within him, his hard chest pressed against mine. “I can’t.”
“You can.” I pulled him away, making him look at me. “You don’t deserve the beatings. You don’t deserve the pain from your dad and all this guilt. Your sister and mom loved you, and I didn’t know them, but if they saw what you were doing now, Royal… How you were trying to let go of them because you feel like you deserve it…”
He blinked, his face so cloudy because I was crying. Actual sobs
