Scattered and Broken, Book 3 of Wingless Series

Words fail

I curled myself into the tightest ball with an old crocheted blanket wrapped around me, barely doing its best to warm me. Kenny sitting across still awake, there was no denying he could make it on no sleep.

So finally, I gave in and turned my back to him the only way to have even a small amount of privacy. I held my hands close to my face under the blanket; I could hear the fireplace crackling and snapping the heat faintly reaching my back.

I didn't have any more to say to Kenny, I was hoping he would keel over from the boredom and I could find a way to call Evan. I promised myself that Evan was heading to me, that he knew and felt it deep down where I was. Like on the movies and soap operas where the lovers have that psychic connection that never fails. We weren't like the movies so I didn't know how much faith I should have.

I forced myself to close my eyes feeling like an odd princess like being, all this almost making me feel like a precious jewel that all the thieves were dying to get their hands on. I knew I was delicate and I knew not a single one would want to ruin such a fine jewel. I didn't want to ruin myself; I hadn't a clue how far I could push myself before I crumbled into shards of delicate glass.

It was the one time in life I wasn't afraid to appreciate me. I kept grown men angry and on a rampage trying to defeat me. I had brothers wanting nothing more than to be with me. It was all for rules I didn't really understand.

I brought myself back to the first time Evan ran his hand across my face, and how intense the butterflies were. He found a way inside my whole being and made me feel exposed to just about everything. I felt like an open book in his hands, which he was able to read. At the same time, I knew he would never tell a soul.

I did something I hadn't done in a long time, I prayed. I prayed that if everything turned out fine and I made it out of this huge mess that I would never question life's answers of what I was to become. I would just be happy to have all that I did.

I missed him, and I knew he felt the same; he probably hadn't stopped moving since I had not returned. He for sure was not eating or sleeping. Just a mess I imagined, it was a horrible feeling not able to reach out and tell him to take care of himself because I was alright.

When I saw him the first time I was a stupid naïve girl who assumed much and nothing at all at the same silly time. I didn't know enough about anything to know what I was taking on. I looked away as a stranger was so close. I went away from all that I was taught. It showed me that I was a good judge; you wouldn't always have your luck. There were many who probably thought the same, ending up exactly where I probably belonged in the bottom of the creek.

My parents were meant to develop more hate for the world, and cry hard for months before settling on pure anger and denial. I was meant to be the memory that was spoke of on the holidays. I was meant to be another picture on the wall, mantel and photo albums.

Instead, I was touched on the cheek by the most beautiful angelic guy who for all it was worth was so much like an angel. He took the time to go against his life to let me live mine.

How many girls even have to think about anything like that when there thrown head first into their first serious relationship?

How many people at all can deal with a situation like the one I was in?

Sometimes in life you learn things so fast your left speechless and words fail, you open your mouth to connect with life and you 'got nothing' simple as that. I could not believe what I was seeing like the child I used to be, wondering if life was real or if it was all a strange dream. I had to accept it good or bad.

Honestly, it didn't matter how much I promised to the world of what I would do in turn for making it out of yet another crazy situation, I couldn't promise a thing. Because it wasn't up to me to promise, I was trying to be a decent person in each situation no one could be decent their whole life. There wasn't time for all the decency it was draining enough to try to do it at all. You truly had to do what was right at the time, that's all you could do.

I hoped for sleep and to see Marcus maybe he could tell me something to do or not do. Maybe he knew what was going to happen. But Marcus seemed to stay away anymore, and I was secretly frozen in fear on the inside that he wasn't coming back. That he had done all he needed and now it was up to me, but maybe I was wrong I didn't know.

I squeezed my eyes tighter sighing so bored, scared and tired that I wanted to cry to just give myself something to do. I imagined Evan's face bringing it to my senses, imagined his messy hair, his deep loving eyes, lips, his careful smile that seemed to invade his eyes when he looked at me and nothing else. His silent way about himself and how even when I was with him he had seemed to develop a silence about him, and if you close your eyes just right, you didn't know he was there unless you truly knew him.

Or how he didn't have to speak to get his point across, when he was angry it only took a few glances, if he was amused he couldn't help but try to avoid looking directly at you. When something was serious how he without knowing always brought his left hand's fingers up to his mouth, or simply ran his hands through his hair, which always warned me he was at his breaking point and was close to screaming at me.

I loved his feet, I remembered vowing to never liking anyone's feet near me until I met him. I grew fond of them and how perfect they were. There didn't seem to be a person in the world who didn't have a broken deformed toe or two. Evan's were flawless, and I loved his hands and how huge they were wrapped around mine, when he would hold mine tight almost constantly. He always met me with those hands, I came to realize it was a habit to always want to touch me, I think he liked to know I was there.

How many people in his life were truly there for him? He lost his parents at an early age, the one woman he did care about died. He was grabbed up like an animal taken away from a dying woman who did nothing but love him and was thrown into a lifestyle of anger, rage, control and death. What would that do to anyone? Could anyone handle it?

He knew enough to know what he wanted; he wanted to love someone, and to be loved. He didn't want to gain power or eventually be given all the control Carlo had. He was simply trying to live, to make sense of what his life had transformed into because he was viewed as having enough potential to help a powerful man do what he wanted to the world.

I never once feared Evan because I saw how much of him he was willing to give to me, and I knew the moment I felt how much I cared that nothing would ever change that, and that was before I knew everything.

So it didn't matter what anyone thought, I knew I would never hurt him, I would hurt myself before that could ever happen.