Born Wicked

XLIX

Weak light filters through the white lace curtains at my bedroom window. Today is Gran's funeral. I wince. Burying my head under my covers I feel the tears seep from the corners of my eyes and into my hair.

My heart hurts. I'm not ready to let you go, I think to her ghost. She's a memory, like my parents. I curl into a fetal position and sob.

There's a soft knock on my bedroom door, and then it opens the hinges creaking softly.

"Hey," Ethan calls softly.

I flip the comforter back and peer at him through my tears. "Hi."

His eyebrows lift in surprise. "That's the first thing you've said in four and a half days. I didn't expect you to be... here." He says emphatically.

I watch him as he comes across the hardwood floor and perches on the edge of my bed at my hip. "I'm sorry."

Concern and sympathy flood his green eyes deepening them to the color of pine. "What could you possibly be sorry for?"

I shrug and wipe the moisture from my cheeks and temples. "Everything. Anything. I-I'm a mess."

He strokes a gentle hand into my dark tangles. "You've been in shock," he murmurs. "And honestly, I don't know what I'd think if you weren't a mess." He offers me a weak smile.

"You've been here?" I ask, sitting up and leaning against my headboard.

He gaze shifts to my tank top. I have no bra on. He quickly glances away, his cheeks staining in embarrassment. He clears his throat uncomfortably.

"I've come and gone," he says it casually, but I can hear the strain beneath his words. "I just wanted to help anyway I could."

I take his warm hand into mine and squeeze. "Thank you."

He smirks. The sight melts my heart. "You don't have to thank me, Jayme. Anyway, between me, Georgia, and Julian, we've kept an eye on you."

The briefest image of worried blue eyes and golden hair whispers across my mind. "Julian?" I'm mortified. I'm ashamed. I hurt him so badly, I don't deserve for him to care.

"You've been in bed for four days," he says, his lips twisting humorlessly. "He hasn't left. The rest of us came in shifts, trying to feed you, watch out for you, bring you out of it. You had us all scared. You've been eating soup. That's all we could give you. You've been catatonic. He wanted to take you to a hospital, but Georgia figured you'd come out of it soon enough. Truthfully, if you weren't okay by today, we were going to take you in after the f-funeral," he stammers the last part.

I'm still holding his hand and his face is pinched with worry. A line carved deep between his black brows. I tug him toward me and I press my lips to his forehead and then let him go.

"Thank you," I whisper.

He grins. "You're welcome. You should probably shower and dress. We're taking you to the church in an hour."

I frown. "Is— is there anything I need to do?"

He shakes his head. "My dad helped me take care of your grandmother's arrangements. Her insurance is going to pay for her service and burial. Just get dressed, okay?"

I feel the fresh wave of tears too late. They fall, fat and hot down my cheeks. "Ethan..."

"You don't owe me anything, okay? Jayme, you've been through so much, I just want you to be okay. I don't care how long it takes. I just... I want you to be alright."