Page 7 of Written with You (The Regret Duet 2)
For all the years I’d been living there, the peace and tranquility of those waves breaking on the shore had eased my troubled soul.
Though, for the last two weeks, they had been nothing more than background noise to my turbulent mind.
It had been two weeks since I’d found out about Keira.
Two weeks since Hadley had taken off with my purse and car.
Two weeks of wallowing and trying to convince myself to climb out of bed.
I lived in the seconds. One emotion. One tick of the clock.
But when you were all alone, did time even matter?
I had a good life, though I would have loved it a hell of a lot more with a family to share it with. Hadley was all I had left, and I didn’t know how to help her anymore. I’d sworn I would fight for her. It’s what my parents would have wanted. But I was at war with a ghost.
Since I’d come home, I’d read her journals cover to cover more times than I would ever admit. There had to be an answer in those pages of how I could save her. But with every sentence, her blistering pain seeped from the words, scorching me to the core.
How had I not known how bad things had gotten for her?
I’d witnessed her struggle with drugs, but the cutting and multiple suicide attempts were news to me.
I told myself not to give in to the anger, but there was a time when Hadley and I had shared everything. In those journals, she was a stranger to me. The façade she showed me was nothing more than an attempt to blend into nothingness.
After two weeks of tossing and turning, my brain desperately needed a break.
But there was no sleep to be found. I had to go back. I had to try.
I had to…
The light to my bedroom suddenly flashed on.
Bolting upright, I threw my arm up to block the light. It was only the sound of her voice that kept me from having a heart attack.
“Are you fucking kidding me? Are you fucking kidding me!” Beth roared. There was a crash across my room as the vase I’d filled with shells I’d found on the beach shattered against the wall. “I’ve been calling you for fucking weeks and you’ve been hiding out here? Not answering your goddamn phone.”
Oh-kay. So, Beth was pissed.
Pissed enough to hop onto a plane to Puerto Rico to give me hell. Surprise visits weren’t unusual when you lived in paradise, but the screaming was new.
“Relax. It was two calls. I didn’t feel like talking to anyone.”
“What is wrong with you!” Her voice cracked as her rage gave way to a sob.
Beth didn’t cry.
Beth was an emotional rock who had carried me through the darkest nights when the demons came calling.
The sound of her anguish was like being struck by lightning.
Something had happened.
Something terrible had happened.
And there was only one person left the world could take from me.
Dropping my arm as my eyes adjusted to sudden illumination, I shot to my feet. “What’s wrong?”
She stumbled backward, the color draining from her face as her mouth gaped. “Wha—”
“What’s wrong?” I repeated more slowly, striding toward her. “Beth!” I yelled, attempting to snap her out of her stupor. “What the hell is going on?”
And then, all at once, she exploded off the wall, nearly knocking me off my feet as she threw her arms around my neck. “Willow!” she cried. “Oh, God, Willow. You’re alive.”
I was alive.
I was very, very much alive.
But if she thought I was dead…
“I don’t understand?”
She leaned away, palming each side of my face. “I buried you. But you’re alive. Oh, Willow.” She drew me in for another hard hug. “Oh, God, you’re alive.”
I pushed her away, my gut sinking to the floor, knowing without knowing. “You buried me?”
I’d never seen such an incredible combination of hysterics and elation as she continued to wail and rejoice. Well, except for that day after the mall shooting when I roused to consciousness for the first time after surgery and saw Hadley sitting at the foot of my bed. I’d assumed she was dead.
I’d assumed wrong.
Beth had assumed I was dead.
She’d assumed wrong.
Which meant…
“Hadley?”
Tears hit my eyes as my knees gave out, sending us both crashing to the floor.
She was gone. They were all gone.Present day…I was pacing the polish off the wood floors in my living room as the conversation I’d had with Trent played on a loop in my head.
I’d wanted to tell Caven that I was Willow as soon as he’d led me up to his bedroom. The confession was all but burning on the tip of my tongue, but no matter how hard I’d tried, I couldn’t make the words come out—not at the risk of losing her.
I’m Willow, I’d thought over and over, hoping that he could read the truth in my eyes, all the while praying he didn’t.
