Chapter 56
fifty-six
It’s okay to let me go, Rey.
Becca’s words echo in my head, soft and warm as I twitch awake, her soul wrapping around me like a soft, furry blanket.
This time, in my dream, she was laughing, sitting cross-legged on the dock at our grandparents’ lake house.
The same one where we spent every summer until they died.
Hair twisted into a messy braid, she was wearing the yellow sundress with the daisies on the hem that Mom always used to make us wear to church.
My eyes flutter open to pale gray light filtering through the curtains, and for a second, I forget where I am.
I’m happy, Rey. And I need you to be happy, too.
I turn my head and blink up at the ceiling, a tear sliding from the corner of my eye and into my hair.
They’re good for you. You’re meant to be together. It’s your destiny.
The weight of Logan’s arm draped across my waist slowly starts to register. As usual, he’s sleeping on his stomach, one arm tucked under his pillow. Brex’s back is to me, having rolled over in his sleep.
The rhythm of their breathing helps brush away some of the haze, and I come to the realization that I’m in my bed. Sandwiched between two men who fucked me senseless.
More than a little restless, I carefully move Logan’s arm out of the way. A sense of déjà vu hits when he grunts, brow furrowing in his sleep. But he doesn’t wake.
Brex lets out a soft snore. The sheets are pooled around his waist, the scratches I left behind marring his back.
Slow and easy, I scoot down to the foot of the bed. The last thing I want is to wake either of them. Not now. Not when I feel like I can barely keep my shit together.
My feet hit the ground and I pad across the room, grabbing the first pair of sweats I can find and yank them on. Snatching a sweatshirt off a hanger in my walk-in closet, I pull it over my head.
The hallway is dark. Rain taps against the roof in a steady beat that does absolutely nothing to calm the storm of emotions brewing inside me.
I walk through the living room and stop at the sliding glass door that opens to the backyard. The sky is a blur of black and gray, with pink dots of dawn trying to fight their way through the clouds. Puddles are starting to form on the edges of the yard, wildflowers swaying in the wind beyond.
As I slide the door open just enough to slip through, the cool, wet air hits my face, and I suck in a deep breath of fresh rain and wet earth.
The patio is small—just a five-by-five square patch of concrete with a couple of Adirondack chairs and a small table wedged between them. I stand just inside the door, watching as lightning flashes in the distance, turning the sky white for a moment before the low rumble of thunder rolls in.
Another flash comes, closer this time.
My throat tightens. I don’t want to cry. I don’t know why the hell I’m standing here. I should go back. Crawl into bed between the two men who’ve asked for nothing more than for us to be together.
But before my mottled brain can listen to reason, I step outside and walk out into the yard.
The wet grass is cold and wet beneath my bare feet. Rain pelts my face, but I barely notice.
Dark clouds roll, billowing across the sky, punctuated by more lightning, which is still miles away. Cold wind whips my hair across my face, rain instantly cutting through the heat coming off my skin and the overwhelming sorrow still clinging to my soul.
Slowly I drop to my knees, water soaking through my clothes as I silently start to cry. I kneel, numb to everything but the ache clawing at my heart until the cold starts seeping into my bones and the weight eases off my chest.
Just as I push myself up to stand, a deep voice jerks me back to reality.
“Angel.”