Chapter 23
Riley
“IT WON’T ALWAYS FEEL LIKE THIS.”
Sitting in the lounge chair on the balcony of Creed’s room, I’ve been journaling for the better part of two hours now.
It’s the same candy-themed journal where I’d torn the pages that made up the letters I wrote to both Collins and Creed.
There was still plenty of empty space, so I decided that maybe my therapist was onto something when he told me to write my thoughts and feelings down.
He’d even encouraged me to try and recount the events of what happened to me when I was ready.
Events that happened to me. Not Collins.
While he applauded my constant need to focus on her safety and wellbeing, he was more concerned about my lack of self-care. He said to get over the hurdle, I needed to take my own voice back from the situation.
I get enough flashbacks and nightmares on a daily basis, I’m not ready to revisit the events any more than I already do.
Phantom pain of the knife in my leg resurfaces and I absentmindedly rub my thumb over the scar on my thigh.
Sometimes, when I least expect it, he assaults my senses, and I can feel the heat of his breath on my skin as he threatened Collins.
Threatened Creed. The way he made me feel so fucking helpless and made sure I had clung to the fragile threads of life just barely enough to watch my sweet girl suffer.
I’ve never been a hateful person, but I fucking loathe him.
Finding out he died by Creed’s bullet brings me a sick sort of satisfaction and stark relief.
It’s not like me to feel like this, but I like to think that if Collins and Creed were to hear my thoughts, they’d agree.
The morning sun warms my skin as I sit here in nothing more than a pair of boxers and a black beanie cap that covers the dressing over my ear, but it feels…
good to not cover myself up. It had become habit in the facility because not only was it cold as fuck, but other patients were just rude with their blatant staring.
Doctor Munn had come to see me every other week to check on the healing progress of my injuries.
All of the scabbing is gone, but the scars on my face are still tender, and I have to put an ointment on them several times a day to keep the skin from puckering too much as it heals.
The close range of the gunshot caused burns as well as torn flesh.
I still count myself lucky that I didn’t lose my hearing.
Or my life.
I write all of these feelings in my journal, doing my best to keep my thoughts optimistic as I record them.
It’s easier to write with the silicone grip around the pen.
I felt like a child at first when Wilder gave it to me, because it’s technically for training children on how to properly grip a pencil.
But it helps me to not have to hold it so tight that it causes my hands to tremble, so I can’t complain, really.
“You’re supposed to be resting, my sweet boy.
” Creed’s rough voice whispering in my ear has me jumping out of my skin.
I slam my journal closed out of habit and turn to find him backing up to lean against the doorframe, and Collins standing in the small opening that leads out to the balcony.
He doesn’t take any offense over my locking the bad memories and thoughts away, because a devious little smile tugs at his lips, his perfectly straight teeth on display for me.
I clear my throat and adjust where I’m sitting so that I’m facing them fully.
“I can’t possibly lay in bed for another minute without turning into a potato, Creed.”
He just smiles wider, biting his lip as he takes a seat on a chair across from me.
Collins looks tired, but no less perfect in her leggings and my hoodie.
Her pastel blue and green hair is piled high on top of her head in a lopsided messy bun, faded streaks hanging loose around her face.
Her eyes drop to the journal at my side and the Polaroid selfie of her and Creed taped to the front.
When she smiles, it’s enough to have my heart pounding in my chest.
Creed laces his fingers through hers and tugs her out onto the balcony and into the soft sunshine that’s peeking through the trees. He kisses her knuckles, chuckling while he eyes me.
“But what a perfectly adorable, freckled potato you’d be,” he jokes, and I playfully roll my eyes, trying to play off the blush that’s creeping up my neck and heating my cheeks. His eyes roam over my body lazily, never once lingering on my scars that are on display.
Collins releases him to sit down next to me, leaning to rest her head on my shoulder, quietly assessing as she asks, “How are you feeling?”
I look down at my hands, at the fading pink scars that encircle my wrists, and take a moment to consider the real answer, not the automatic response of ‘I’m fine’ that I used to give everyone. Blowing out a heavy breath, I press my cheek into her hair and lift my eyes to meet Creed’s.
“I’m…” I sigh, “I…I feel weird.”
His brows crease in confusion, a little worry lingering there. “Weird how?”
“I’m relieved that I’m finally home, but sometimes this reality feels more like a dream.
That fever and infection really did a number on my brain, so I find myself confused sometimes.
I don’t dissociate like Collins does, not really, but sometimes I get lost in my head when I start to overthink the authenticity of my surroundings. ”
Collins lays a delicate hand on top of my clasped fists, the gesture a silent acknowledgement.
I shift just enough to drag a shaky thumb over the marks on top of my wrists before lifting one hand to stroke the tips of my fingers over the gunshot wound in my shoulder.
Then, I stand and turn around, giving the two of them a view of the tender remnants of the skin on my back, my freckles disconnected by what seems to be thousands of cuts and lacerations from being dragged on my back across the pavement.
I leave my hat where it is on my head, not because I know they’ve already seen those scars, but because I’m still insecure about them.
“As much as I hate what…he’s done to me, these scars are a reminder that I’m here. That I’m fucking free.” I draw in a shaky breath when I feel the tips of fingers brush over my scars. “Which is weird to me, because sometimes I feel as if I should still be back there in that room.”
What I don’t say is how sometimes I think I deserve to be there.
I endangered her by insisting on taking her out in public. It got us recognized and ultimately caught. That’s on me, and it eats at me from the moment I wake, then continues in my dreams when I finally fall asleep.
“I know that feeling,” Collins rasps, appearing next to me once more as she leans one hip against the railing.
I feel Creed’s forehead press against my spine right at the base of my neck as he wraps one hand around my middle and one across the expanse of my chest. I shiver as they deftly brush over the scar near my shoulder in the tiniest tremble in his touch.
“It won’t always feel like this,” he whispers, then places a tender kiss to the back of my neck.
Collins leans in and presses her lips to my shoulder before laying her head there, just as she had before.
She wraps one arm around me on top of Creed’s, and closes in on the cuddle puddle when her other arm bands around Creed’s back.
She releases a breath, then whispers, “It may feel weird now, but we will never let you get lost.”
She raises her head to look at me and I lock eyes with her. She’s so goddamned beautiful that it makes my stomach flip. Lifting up onto her toes, she places a featherlight kiss to my jaw before looking out at the beautiful scenery before us.
“See us,” She starts, and I smile.
“Feel us,” Creed continues, placing a kiss to my cheek before shifting to rest his chin atop my opposite shoulder.
I close my eyes for a moment before opening them just as the sun peeks over the top of the trees, a warm breeze forcing them to sway back and forth.
“We are real.”
The three of us stand there for a long moment, just soaking in the feeling of being together all at once. The beauty of it all feels an awful lot like peace. Like hope.
Then, Collins stomach growls loud, and just like that, the moment transforms when Creed laughs and says, “Somebody’s hungry,” before releasing me to scoop her up.
She squeaks as she wraps her legs around his waist, the three of us exiting the balcony and leaving the room. “Let’s get you two fed, yeah?”
“What sounds good for breakfast, Ri?” Collins asks, watching me over Creed’s shoulder.
I shrug, not very hungry but knowing I need to eat something. “Whatever my girl wants.”
She blushes, and I love the way it makes her freckles pop. She bites the tip of her finger, her gaze turning heated as she looks me up and down. “I think what I want isn’t on the breakfast menu.”
Creed chokes a laugh, stopping at the top of the stairs. “What—” He turns to look at me and bites his lip. “Oh, no. That’s more like dessert, Stardust.”
I frown, confused. Looking down, I curse, realizing I’m still in nothing but my boxers. Tugging my hat down to hide my embarrassment, I mutter, “Be right back.”
Creed’s laughter chases me down the hall before he yells, “Don’t take too long! I’ve got a surprise for you!”
My heart rate kicks up at that. I never expect anything from these two, but the thought of receiving a surprise from Creed has my curiosity piqued.
Entering the room again, I step back out onto the balcony to grab my journal. I throw on some joggers and a shirt in no time and pause on my way out the door when my eyes catch on the picture of Creed and Collins that I taped to the front of the notebook.
Flipping it open, I read over the last thing I wrote just minutes ago.
I want to feel worthy of their love again.
I brush my thumb over the words etched into the page, my mind replaying the quiet moment between the three of us outside.
Though I feel undeserving, I can’t deny how right it feels to be a part of them.
My written words hold so much truth. I want to feel worthy.
I just don’t know how. Suddenly, an idea sparks, catching me completely by surprise.
Creativity like this hasn’t happened since before Collins and I were captured.
Unease and doubt are replaced with a hopeful sort of longing as my thoughts unfold into something new.
Unable to help myself, I swipe the pen from the side table and sit at the end of the bed, my heart and my mind soaring as I let the shaky lyrics flow onto the page.