Chapter 53
Chapter fifty-three
Hendrix · Then
The Light Behind Your Eyes – My Chemical Romance
Twenty Years Old
My dorm door rattles on the hinges.
It swings open, and I shoot out of bed.
I trip over the duvet, grab the unplugged lamp off my nightstand, and hurl it.
“Woah!” A voice calls out.
My chest pounds as it curls around me.
Not a burglar then.
I blink when Cole drops to the floor.
The lamp smashes into the wall, glass raining around him.
I kick my legs free and dive onto my knees in front of him. Carpet scrapes at my bare skin, burning me with the friction.
“Shit, I’m so sorry.” I reach for his arm. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah.” He huffs a laugh, brushing bulb shards off his jogger-clad thighs before he looks at me. There’s a storm brewing behind his blown pupils. My gut sinks as his expression blanks. “You left, Rixie.”
I lift a shoulder, my lip quivering.
It’s been two days since the party at Saint’s. Two days since I slipped out of town without saying anything to the guys—without saying anything to Cole.
“We weren’t talking.”
“Like I give a shit.” He pushes onto his feet and holds his hand out to me. “Were you planning to just let me go to Europe without saying anything?”
Yes… no… maybe. “I don’t know. I didn’t really get that far in my thinking.”
He drags me up when I place my palm in his.
His eyes close as he drops his forehead to mine. “You can’t just leave me.”
“I’m sorry.” I breathe in slowly, his scent curling around me. “I just… I didn’t want to say goodbye to you.”
“We say goodbye all the time, baby,” he says, fingers tangling in my sleep-mussed hair. “Why is this one so different?”
Because it feels like it will be the last one. “It just is. You’re not just gonna be a train ride away.”
“You can catch a train to Paris, then to Spain, maybe.” He tilts my head back. “Don’t quote me on it. We both know geography’s never been my strongest subject.”
A wet laugh sits on my tongue. “You never could figure out the world map, huh?”
“Nope.” He brushes his lips over mine.
I soak him in, the warmth curling off his frame, the sweetness of his lips.
“Talk to me, Rixie. Please.” He grips my chin between a tattooed thumb and forefinger and forces my gaze to his. “I can’t fix us if I don’t know what the hell I’m fixing or why.”
I chew my cheek.
I wish I knew how to tell him it isn’t us that needs fixing. It’s me. All these broken, jagged pieces I’ve been carting around for twenty years. The guilt of simply existing.
Saint told me once Cole wasn’t as jaded as us because he’s never had to be. He’s never had to toughen up and build walls to keep everything locked tight inside him.
So how then, do you tell a person who’s only ever known love and joy that the world isn’t as beautiful as he sees it?
The simple fact is you don’t.
“Is everyone mad at me?” I ask.
His breath coasts over my cheeks as he exhales sharply. “No. Nobody’s mad, baby. Just worried. You’ve never disappeared like that.”
My eyes burn. “I really am sorry.”
“I know,” he says, his thumb swiping over my lower lip. “Just don’t do it again, okay? You need to run away, you tell one of us. You tell me, so I can run away with you.”
I force a small smile to my lips. “You can’t run away, Rock Star. You’re about to become a world-wide sensation.”
“You have too much faith in me.” He smirks, but it’s tinged with sorrow.
“Never.” I shake my head, fighting the waves of emotions swirling inside me. “You were born to shine.”
He chuckles. “You sound like my mum.”
“Always said Sandra was a smart lady,” I step back and glance at the clock on the wall as it ticks down slowly to morning. “When do you have to go?"
He follows my gaze. “Not for a bit.”
“You wanna play hooky with me?”
“Rixie Moore, I’ll play hooky with you for the rest of my life,” he says, cupping his hands around my hips and pulling me tight to his chest. I throw my arms around his back. He presses his chin to my head, and sighs. “All you have to do is ask.”
I close my eyes, fighting the urge to do just that.