Jeremiah
"Is she breathing?"
"Why wouldn't she be breathing?"
"Hmmm, well, if I recall, I wasn't the only one with front row seats to that trainwreck happening in the basement. I mean, did you see the way her chest was heaving? Like I'm pretty sure her eyes rolled all the way back before it was lights out and mom started losing her shit—"
"I can hear you."
Blue and I looked over at Bella as she slowly pulled herself up into a sitting position against the headboard. With one palm to her forehead and the other blindly reaching for something—I'm assuming her phone—she shot a glare in our direction and nodded towards the bathroom.
"Can one of you stalkers be useful and get me some Tylenol or something? My head is fucking pounding."
Yeah, I bet it was.
"Well maybe if you asked nicely we would consider it," Blue mumbled. She stood firm in that statement for all of two seconds before Bella narrowed her eyes, and then she was huffing and puffing, reluctantly turning on her heels and heading towards the en-suite.
I shook my head and took a seat on the edge of the bed. "How're you feeling, champ?"
Bella rolled her eyes. "Like a million bucks, obviously. Where's Luca?"
"Asleep in one of the guest rooms with my girls. Ma told Livia she wanted to go ahead and put 'em to bed after she got you situated a couple hours ago."
She scoffed. "Oh, I'm sure she did."
I rubbed the back of my neck and cleared my throat, trying to be conscious of my words because the last thing I wanted to do was get her wound up again. "You know, B, I know what mom did was really messed up. It was, and I'm not trying to make excuses for her. But maybe you should think about—"
"Don't." Bella shook her head and shifted her attention towards the wall. I know that fancy ass Italian wallpaper is cool and all, but it definitely wasn't interesting enough to be staring at the way she was. "One, I'm not having this conversation with you—or anyone else in this goddamn house. How many times do I have to say that? And two, it doesn't matter anymore. I'm over this entire situation."
She kicked the duvet to the side and attempted to get up, but I jolted forward and grasped onto her bicep before she could make a run for it. I gotta admit, having two kids under the age of ten has done wonders for my instincts, so dealing with Bella's antics was light work in comparison.
Though like I expected, and in true Bella fashion, she wasn't going down without a fight.
"Let me go, asshole!" Bella seethed, digging her heel into my thigh. Her free hand went to work on the arm I was using to hold her back, and she tried piercing her nails through my sweater to claw at my skin, but this 99% cashmere doesn't tear easily, baby. I was protected.
"You aren't over shit," I laughed.
A frustrated grunt fell from her lips. "You don't know shit!"
"I mean, nah, I didn't at first. But I do now."
"Oh, fuck you. Don't you get tired of thinking you have everything figured out all the time?"
"I know enough, Bella," I said, slightly loosening my grip. She just rolled her eyes again, and I sighed. "You have every right to feel the way you do, aight? I'm not saying you don't. But you just had a full-blown panic attack 'cause mom was making you talk about the situation. And y'all didn't even get that deep into the conversation— she just wouldn't let you tap out like you usually do, and all that anger you've kept bottled up all these years had nowhere to go—"
