Page 41 of Dark Consequences
“Idon’t know about this,” I share uncertainly while I take in the sight before me.
Gabriella hears me and waves away my concern. “Relax. I know my brother, and he’ll love this.”
I hold up a roll of festive red-and-white wrapping paper adorned with cute stocking designs. “Something tells me this isn’t Raphael’s style.”
“I know, right?” Gabriella reaches over the table and snags the roll of paper from my hand. “The man has no sense of style.”
“I think he looks great.” The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them, and it takes me a solid three seconds to realize Gabriella, Rose, and Evie have gone still. Glancing up, I take in their stunned faces and wait.
“I meant how he styles his home for the holidays,” Gabriella explains with a teasing smile. “Not what he wears.”
Shit.
“But clearly you do,” Evie concludes with an equally teasing smile.
“That–that’s not what I meant.” I can feel my face turning warm from the growing embarrassment. “I just meant–that, you know…he–he dresses nice.” My voice drops as I mumble that last bit.
“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about here, Lily. Not with us,” Rose assures me. “What you’re feeling is completely normal, and we would never judge you for that.”
A spike of anger stabs at my chest, causing me to pick at the cut end of a ribbon, which only makes the edges more frayed. “I know, I just—” I sigh in frustration and toss the piece of fabric on top of the table. “I hate feeling like this.”
“Feeling like what?” Gabriella asks. “Like it’s wrong to like someone?”
“Yeah,” I mumble. My eyes focus on the damaged ribbon. How much it resembles me is symbolic in a way. A little torn and uneven round the edges, flawed and unable to ever be put back together the same as it was before. “Raphael is too good for me. And I know that’s like an oxymoron because he has just the same amount of blood on his hands as Xiao does. But…even though he does, even though it should send me running for the hills, I’m not scared of him. I want to be near him; I want to know him. I want to feel his touch against my skin and his arms around me. I want to kiss him again, but it feels wrong to want that because I’m not worthy of him. Raphael deserves to be with someone who is not damaged and fucked up in the head. It wouldn’t be fair of me to ask him to wait because what if I never recover? What if I’m too broken beyond repair?”
The familiar burn of tears pricks at my eyes. I hate crying. I always have. I’m sure some therapist somewhere would argue that it’s healthy to cry and that it’s the body’s way of healing from trauma. If that’s so, then how many buckets do I need to fill up before I’m healed?
Gabriella moves from the other side of the table and sits right across from me.
“Lily.” She leans forward and takes my hands in hers. I look up and meet her eyes. They’re so eerily familiar that, for a moment, my heart squeezes because it’s like Raphael sits in front of me. “I wish I could say that it would have been nice to have met you before everything happened. But I’d be lying because I get to know the woman you are now…and the woman you’re becoming, and she’s stronger than anyone I’ve ever known. There’s this power inside you, this raw strength that has been beaten down and locked away for years, but I can see it growing stronger and stronger every second. And when it finally breaks free, it will be amazing.”
Rose kneels beside Gabriella and places her hand over our clasped ones. “You may think you’re too broken, but Raphael is too. And I think that, together, your broken pieces fit. You just have to be willing to take a little bit of that strength we see in you to try and trust again.”
I know they’re right. Just like how a wound will never heal if left untreated, my battered soul will never heal if I don’t take that first step. But I’m not afraid to admit that the idea terrifies me. At the same time, the vision of the woman I could be standing on the other side of this is worth fighting for.
“Thanks.” I don’t know what else to say, feeling overwhelmed by their support and reassurances.
“I’m sorry,” Evie speaks up. “But can we circle back to this kiss you mentioned?”
Rose’s and Gabriella’s faces light up with wicked smiles, like cats that got into the milk.
“Oh yes, you said kiss again. What kiss?” Rose asks.
“And when did this happen? Tell us everything.” Gabriella urges.
It feels like I’m suddenly back in high school, gossiping in the cafeteria with my girlfriends about the first boy who ever kissed me in the hallway.
“Last night. After he got back to the house.” I look away and pick up the wrapping paper to give my hands and brain something to distract them while my heart talks. “He liked my hair, and then I followed him outside, where he gave me an early Christmas present. I was so overwhelmed by it I couldn’t stop myself. I had to kiss him.”
“You kissed him?” Rose’s smile widens, and pride shines in her green eyes.
“I did.”
“And then what?” Evie asks.
“He kissed me back, and then that was it.”
“What a gentleman,” Evie admires before smacking Rose’s upper arm. “Looks like you picked the wrong brother.”