Less than Perfect by S. J. Evans (librera reader .TXT) 📖

over her body, and she cringed, fighting back the bile that swelled in her throat.
A hand touched her shoulder, gently, and she jumped at the contact, crying out. “Sweetheart, it’s just me,” her father whispered, holding his hands up in front of him. “It’s just your father.”
She sobbed again, remembering the way Johnny had spoken that word—sweetheart

—to her one time too many in the past. And, very carefully, she turned onto her back, looking up through the blurriness of her teary eyes at her frazzled father’s face. She tried to say something, but all that came out was a choked up sob.
“Oh, Rachie,” he said, crystal tears building up in his own eyes. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to remind you of—”
She put up a shaky hand and shook her head, silencing him. And with as much of her voice as she could get, she croaked, “I-It’s okay. It’s just going to take some time for me to get used to physical contact again. Especially sudden contact.” She pulled his hand in hers and forced a weak smile. “But I love you, Daddy.”
“I know, baby girl, I know.” He smiled, squeezing her hand reassuringly. “I love you so much.”
“Could you possibly get me some of that water now?” she requested, dropping his hand and curling into the blanket again. “I’m sort of thirsty.”
He nodded. “Sure.”
She reached out and caught his arm before he could go any further, saying, “And get some coffee or something for yourself. You could use a break.”
“Are you sure you don’t want company?”
“Yes,” she whispered, falling back into the cocoon of warmth the blanket created. “I mean—I don’t need you watching over me all the time. I’ll be okay.” She forced another smile in a desperate attempt at trying to convince him as she glanced up at his face once more. “I promise.”
He hesitated another moment before slowly nodding his head in agreement. “If you’re sure . . .” he trailed off and Rachel nodded, closing her eyes.
A few minutes after he left, she tried to clear all of the foreboding thoughts and images from her mind, replacing the hollowness with thoughts of all the good times she’d had instead. Times when everything was good and peaceful—happy even. Times when there was nothing left to lose and so much to gain. Times when all of the darkness and pain weren’t a major factor of her life, but brightness and joy were.
She let out a long sigh, feeling a current of security rush through her veins, and released all of her worries and fears—at least for the moment. She needed the change.
“Knock, knock,” someone called from the doorway to her room. Her eyes flashed open, her body suddenly alert, and slowly, timidly, she maneuvered herself so that she was now facing the owner of the voice. She smiled immediately, warmth running through her body like an electrical current, and let herself breathe again.
“Did someone order a glass of water?” Victor asked around a lopsided smile—the kind of smile that Rachel had grown so fond of in the past couple of weeks. “Maybe a beautiful girl like the one I’m looking at right now?”
She rolled her eyes, and covered her face with her hands. “Did my dad put you up to this?” She groaned, despite the life and tranquility that suddenly overwhelmed her by his presence. “I asked him to get water, not put my boyfriend up to it.”
He was grinning now. “No, he didn’t,” he said, and took a few long, easy strides towards her. “I asked him if there was anything I could do for you when we bumped into each other in the hall, and he mentioned water. It was all my idea to bring it to you, though.”
“Oh,” she breathed. “Well—thank you, Vic.”
He held out the water, and pulled a chair closer to her, settling down. “No problem.” He shrugged as if it was nothing. “I figured it was the least I could do for you.”
“Thank you,” she repeated, lost in his bright, bold eyes.
He chuckled. “You said that already.”
“I thought it was worth repeating.” Her lips slipped into a small smile as she pulled his hand in hers and entwined their fingers together. “I missed you.”
Victor’s grin quivered, and his face fell, just enough for Rachel to notice. “Yeah, about this . . .” he said, and unwound his fingers from hers, “. . . about us.” He swallowed hard, letting out a long, heavy breath. “We should talk.”
Her stomach dropped into the pit of her stomach. He wanted to talk. Victor, her boyfriend, the guy she’d fallen hard for, wanted to talk to her. And by the way he said those three words—we should talk

—she could tell it wasn’t going to end well.
“Why don’t I get the impression this isn’t going to be a good talk?” she asked hesitantly, shifting so that she was leaning on her side and peering up at him.
He averted his gaze, frowning. “Because it won’t be.”
She held back the urge to cry, afraid that she wasn’t going to like what he had to say, and afraid that he was going to leave

her

. She couldn’t lose him. Not now. Not after all that had happened. “What is it then?” Her voice was a straggled whisper. “What should we ‘talk about’, Vic? What

?”
Her heart was pounding by the time he finally gave her an answer, and the moment she registered his words it stopped, and she wished he could take them back.
His exact words were: “I cheated on you, Rachel. And I really, really screwed up.”
Part of her wanted to slap him, but she didn’t. She was too taken aback, too hurt

to do anything more than stare at him and mutter a broken, “W-What?”
“I cheated. While you were gone.” He clenched his hands into fits in his lap. “I kissed”—he broke off, looked at her with remorse filled eyes, and grimaced—“. . . Skye. I forced myself on her. And I wish I could say that I didn’t mean to, or didn’t really want to—but I can’t. Because it would be a lie. And I’m through with lying to you.”
An overwhelming, body-shaking sob wracked her core, shattering her resolve. She crumbled, both physically and emotionally, and pressed her face into the pillow behind her head, too overwhelmed with devastation to let Victor see her face. “Why?” she croaked, the sound muffled. “Why did you do it?”
He hung his head low, rubbing his face with both of his hands. “Because I thought she and I could have something together, and I wanted to prove it to her.” He groaned, slamming his hands against his knees. “I was selfish, and I was stupid. And I wish I’d never done it. I wish I’d never hurt you—and

Skye—like that. I’m really, really sorry, Rach. I never planned for things to be like this.”
“How could you?” she cried, snapping her head around to glare at him. “How could you do that, Victor? Did you ever really even have feelings for me?”
He paused, taken off guard. “I care about you, Rachel—I always have.” He watched her carefully, regret evident in his gaze, and she felt a pang of pain deep inside her chest. “But I never really had the kind of feelings for you that I know you have for me. It was only a façade. Only a show.” He avoided looking her in the eyes again, and when he spoke his voice cracked. “I was using you to get closer to Skye.”
Her lips quivered as a sob trembled from her mouth, and she closed her eyes, wishing it wasn’t true, wishing he would just shut up and tell her it was all a joke. It had to be a joke. He couldn’t be serious.
But deep down, nestled between her feelings for this man and her heart, she knew he was dead serious. He really had cheated

on her, used

her, all the while pretending to be in love with her. Her heart shattered into a million tiny pieces, and she struggled to breathe, so conflicted, so torn, so hurt, she didn’t know how

to react.
All for her

, she thought sadly, whimpering. He did it all for Skye

. She couldn’t be angry with Skye because she knew that she had nothing to do with Victor’s actions, but it still hurt to know that her best friend

was the reason for her own broken heart. Everything hurt.
“Please go, Vic,” she whispered, burying her face back into the pillow. “Just go.”
Victor touched her shoulder, gently, carefully, and said, “I truly am sorry, Rachel. I hate myself for what I did to you. It was wrong, it was cruel, and I never should have crossed that line. I really screwed everything up.” She shoved his hand away, which resulted in a heavy, guilt-ridden sigh from him. “I’m sorry it had to end this way. But I’ll be leaving for good, so you don’t have to worry about me hurting you again.”
She looked at him one last time, wiping tears off her burning cheeks, and muttered a hoarse, “I’m sorry too.” She took a deep breath, and with as much grace as she could muster, added, “But I don’t hate you. I never could

hate you. And maybe I don’t forgive you yet, but give me some time, and maybe someday, I will.”
He tried to smile, but it quivered into a frown instead. “I really am sorry.”
She curled in on herself, whispering, “I know.” Her tainted soul felt battered and bruised, shivering in the wake of Victor’s confession, lost in the agony of a broken heart. “Please go now, Victor. My dad will be back soon, and I don’t want him to ask questions.” Her voice was quiet, frail. Choked up sobs still burned her throat.
And after a moment that felt like an eternity, Victor stood up and headed out the door, leaving one last painful farewell to Rachel’s memory: “Goodbye, Rach. I hope you find the right guy for you someday, and—unlike me—he treats you how you deserve to be treated.”

JULES—HE WAS NEAR. Skye could feel his strong, comforting presence like a warm blanket of safety draped over her entire body—and soul. Coming back to consciousness, she grappled onto the faint sounds around her: her own calm, steady breathing, along with the measured beating of her heart, and soft, quiet whispers coming from familiar voices. She couldn’t make out who the voices belonged to, but—from the overwhelming warmth that spread through her body—she could only guess that one was Jules’s.
She tried to say something—anything

—but what came out of her mouth was nothing more than a weak, straggled whimper. Her throat was dry, and her entire body felt wrapped in a veil of exhaustion, only ever so slowly reviving itself.
“Skye?” she heard Leah gasp. “Are you awake, baby girl?”
Skye shifted in the hospital’s bed slightly, in a weak attempt at sitting