Page 196 of Broken Saint
“It’s only over if you give up the fight, Ella,” Mom says wisely.
It takes a few minutes of thinking about those words over and over in my head before I finally calm down and let her go.
Reaching up, I wipe my snotty nose with the back of my hand before Mom hands me a strip of toilet roll.
“Thanks,” I mutter, memories from the night he took me to the facility where their mom is floating around my head.
“I never want to cause anyone the kind of pain she caused us. It would kill me if I put you through even an ounce of that.”
Those are the exact words he said to me that night. As he explained the real reason he’d always kept me at arm’s length.
It was fear.
It was never because he didn’t care for me.
It was his own fear that stopped him from allowing me fully into his life.
He knew he would hurt me.
But isn’t that what he’d always done by holding me back, by stopping me from getting to know the real him?
My heart pounds painfully in my chest. It’s battered, bruised, and tender as hell.
Can it take another beating?
Do I have the energy to continue fighting when I’m the only one who seems to be doing so?
He’s just gone through something hugely traumatizing.Of course he’s freaking out.
With Mom’s help, I get to my feet as my head and my heart continue to war.
My head understands—to a point—but it also knows that I need to put myself first. My heart, however? That fickle bitch has always only beat for Colton Rogers. What would it do without him?
Together we stumble into the empty hospital room just as a nurse walks in, her arms loaded with fresh supplies, ready for a new patient.
“Oh,” she gasps, startled by our presence.
“Where is he?” I demand brokenly.
Her expression softens as she takes me in.
It’s not necessary; I already know what a mess I must look like.
“Colt checked himself out against doctor’s advice this morning.”
I sway on my feet, but Mom is right there to catch me.
“W-what?” I gasp in utter horror.
She smiles softly at me, fully understanding my concern.
“Surely, he can’t do that,” Mom argues.
“Sadly, he can. He assured us that he’ll organize a team of medical professionals to monitor his continued recovery, but he is no longer a patient here.”
I stand there staring in disbelief.
He really just left.