“I want to stay with you,” I murmured.
He nodded, then he got up and picked me up in his arms. Before he carried me to the stairs, he turned me to the others one at a time, letting them kiss me goodnight. We were silent as he took me to his room. He pulled back the covers with one hand and set me down on the bed, tucking the duvet around me a moment later. Then he walked away towards the window and stared out over the city.
“What were you doing up here before you came down?” I asked when he didn’t say anything.
“Thinking.”
“About what?”
“Everything that’s happened in the past week.” He let out a sigh but didn’t turn around. “I know what you said when I asked, but I’m still wondering how you really feel about the way I told you of Lylah’s death.”
I stiffened. Thinking about the fact Mason had killed my mother to stop her from making too much noise hurt me. I didn’t blame West for it, however. It was all on Stuart and Mason. They were responsible for her death.
“I’m not upset with you over it. I mean, it wasn’t exactly the best time to tell me, but I don’t know if I would have… killed him if you hadn’t.”
West turned around. He hadn’t turned the lights on, but I could see his features from the city lights spilling in through the windows.
“I wanted him dead. Drake made us swear we wouldn’t hurt him, but he said nothing about you.” He took a step towards the bed. “I need you to know I told you because I wanted you to kill him. I was counting on it.”
“And you think that might upset me?”
He shrugged, digging his hands into his pockets.
“Last time I made you kill someone, you weren’t very happy with me.”
I slipped out of bed and walked over to his wardrobes, trying to get my thoughts straight. Opening one of the doors, I pulled out one of his t-shirts and slipped it over my head. I lowered my face and breathed in. It smelt faintly like their detergent and West. Closing the door, I rested my forehead against the wood.
“I’m grateful you told me the truth. I had trouble confronting it. The fact that my mother is dead. And that made it real. Knowing he killed her made it… real.”
Tears welled in my eyes. This time, I didn’t hold them back as one slid down my cheek.
“I miss her… so much.”
My knees threatened to buckle, but I put my hands on the door to stop myself from falling to the floor. I’d tried to keep my grief inside me. Tried so hard not to allow it to burst through. I’d held onto my anger towards Mason so I didn’t have to deal with it, but now… now I couldn’t hold back any longer.
My mother was gone. Murdered. It happened when I had no idea who she was. That was the very worst part of all.
Fourteen
West
Watching her struggle with her composure made my chest hurt. I wasn’t good at this shit. Being there for people. It had been a long time since I’d needed to. And Scarlett had been the only one I’d ever comforted.
I walked around the bed and reached out to her, placing my hands on her shoulders whilst she tried to hold in her emotions. All I wanted to do was take away her pain. To end her suffering. She deserved more than life had given her. I would do everything in my power to give this woman a better future.
“Little Scar.”
“I’ve lost so much already. Almost half my life was stolen from me. I lost you… I lost us. Why did I have to lose her too?”
I pulled her away from the door, turning her around and tucking her against my chest. She clutched my t-shirt and let out a hiccup.
“I want you back,” she choked out. “I can’t have my mother back or my old life, but I want you, West. I just want you.”
I didn’t know what the fuck to say. Didn’t she know I was right here? Didn’t she know she had me? Every part of me?
No, because you haven’t fucking told her.
It should be simple. Telling her I loved her. But the truth was… I still struggled with myself over it. Scarlett reminded me of the boy I’d been. She dragged him out into the open. The boy I thought had died the night she fell. The man I’d become had all but been labelled a sociopath. And yet, I was capable of feeling human emotions. I felt them for Scarlett. Her pain. I understood it. I felt it inside me, like a festering wound unable to heal. And it was killing me.
I didn’t know how to define myself any longer. How to navigate these waters I’d found myself in. Maybe I wasn’t supposed to do it alone. The world had given me Scarlett back. Given me the one person who had always filled me with the hope I wasn’t completely fucked in the head. She told me she didn’t see me differently because of my diagnosis. So why did I still see myself as unworthy of her love?