Page 150 - It Ends with Us

He no ds. The bleed ing ha s stopped . I’m sure if he need ed stitches ,

he’d get some, but I thi nk it’ll be fine. I pull the ACE band age out of
the firs t aid kit and beg in wrapping hi s ha nd .
“Lily,” he whi spers . I look up at hi m. His hea d is res ting agains t the
hea dboard, and it looks like he want s to cry. “I feel terri ble, ” he says.
“If I could take it back . . .”
“I kno w,” I say, cutting hi m off. “I kno w, R yle. It was terri ble. You

pushed me. You made me ques tion ev er ythi ng I tho ught I knew about
you. But I kno w you feel bad about it. We can’t take it back. I don’t
want to bring it up again. ” I sec ure the band age around hi s ha nd and
then look hi m in the ey e. “But R yle? If any thi ng like tha t ev er
ha ppens again . . . I’ll kno w that thi s time wasn’t just an accident . And
I’ll lea ve you witho ut a sec ond tho ught .”
He stares at me for a long time, hi s ey eb rows drawn apart in reg ret .

He lea ns for ward and pres ses hi s lips agains t mine. “It won’t ha ppen
again, Lily. I swea r. I’m no t like hi m. I kno w tha t’s wha t you’re
thi nk ing , but I swea r to you . . .”
I sha ke my head , want ing hi m to stop. I can’t take the pain in hi s
voice. “I kno w you’re no thi ng like my father,” I say. “Just . . . plea se
don’t ev er make me doubt you again. Plea se. ”

He brushes ha ir from my forehea d. “You’re the most important
part of my life, Lily. I want to be wha t bring s you ha ppines s. Not wha t
causes you to hu rt.” He kisses me and then stand s up and lea ns over
me, pressing the ice to my face. “Hold thi s here for about ten more
minu tes . It’ll prev ent it from swel ling .”
I rep lace hi s ha nd with mine. “Where are you going ?”
He kisses me on the forehea d and says, “To clea n up my mes s.”

He spend s the nex t twent y minu tes clea ni ng the kitchen. I can
hea r glass bei ng tossed int o the trash can, wine bei ng poured out in
the sink . I go to the bathro om and take a quick sho wer to get hi s
blood off of me and then I cha ng e the sheet s on my bed . When he
fina lly has the kitchen clea ne d up, he comes to the bed room with a
glass. He ha nd s it to me. “It’s soda,” he says. “The caffei ne will hel p.”

I take a drink of it and feel it fiz z down my thro at. It’s actually the
per fec t thi ng . I take ano ther drink and set it on my ni ght stand .
“Wha t’s it hel p with? The ha ng over?”