She lifts her hand to tuck her hair behind her ear, and my eyes zero in on her bandaged wrists.
“Sorrow?”
She looks from me to the bandages before rolling her eyes. Tugging her cell phone from her pocket, she starts typing.
I’m not sure where your mind just went, but these are from having handcuffs on too tight for too long. That’s also how all this happened.She shows me the text before she waves at her face.
When the rookie shoved me in the back of the car, I couldn’t put my hands out to catch myself, so I landed on my nose andsliced my gum with my tooth, both of which bled like I was an extra in Carrie.I read as she types.
I take a step back as her words sink in, because all of a sudden, I have the urge to rip the rookie’s head off. I don’t want her to feel like the rage is aimed at her. I frown. Why am I so mad now? I wasn’t happy when I saw the footage, but I didn’t lose my shit. I figured there was a justifiable reason for it all.
But then I stood in that observation room and I realized it was all fabricated nonsense. It made me question if anything is what it seems.
Her stomach chooses that moment to rumble loudly, making her blush. I tug my T-shirt over my head and slip it over hers, smirking when her mouth drops open in shock. Truth is, if I don’t cover her boobs, she’s gonna be in a world of trouble because my mouth is watering at the thought of feasting on them.
I lift her from the counter, trying to ignore how good her body feels pressed against mine, and walk over to the table before I forget all the reasons this is a shitty idea. She pulls out a chair while I pull out the other and open the pizza boxes. I move one in front of her and frown when she stares down at it, a sheen covering her eyes.
“You good?”
You remember what pizza I like?she types and holds it up for me to see.
I shrug it off, not wanting to make a big deal over it. “Only weirdos like pineapple on pizza. Trust me. It’s hard to forget something as messed up as that.”
She snorts, picking up a slice and taking a big bite.
Okay, Canadian bacon, onions, mushrooms, and pineapple are not the weirdest things I’ve seen on pizza. Arlo holds that record. I mean, who the fuck puts tuna on pizza, for God sake?
“Is it good?” I ask, adjusting myself when she groans.
She nods, her eyes slipping closed. God, damn it, when did eating pizza suddenly become pornographic?
I focus on my food, only stopping to grab the cans of Coke from the bag and hand her one. Neither of us speaks until the food is gone, the ease of the moment slipping once her focus is back on me.
“Tell me what happened today.”
Her eyes widen before she jumps up. For a second, I think something is wrong until she holds her hand up for me to wait until she makes a call.
She leaves the room as I clean up, but my curiosity gets the better of me when I hear voices. At first, I’m pissed, thinking she’s been playing me, until I realize the voice sounds robotic. I step closer, peer around the wall, and watch her pace as she texts and the phone reads out what she’s writing.
I move away to give her privacy, even though I want to know what the fuck is happening. By the time she comes back, I’ve cleaned up and gotten rid of the trash. I take a seat at the table once more and wait for her to join me.
She grips the phone in her hand.
“I’m not going anywhere, Sorrow, so spill.”
Her eyes flash with anger. For a second, I worry the Coke can will end up getting thrown at my head, but she starts typing and her phone speaks for her.
“I went to the hardware store to buy some paint and other supplies to freshen up the place. The realtor said I had no chance of selling it as it is without taking a huge loss. Anyway, the rookie came in while I was paying and told me my taillight was out. I didn’t think much of it. He followed me out, and when I went to the look, it was fine. That’s when the rookie smashed it right in front of me.”
“He say why?”
She shakes her head.
“If he did, I don’t remember. I don’t know him. He’s not someone I recall from before, so I’m not sure why he acted the way he did unless he was instructed to.”
I tense up, wondering if she’s about to accuse me, but she doesn’t. She goes on to tell me the rest, not hiding anything, even the part where he said he smelled alcohol on her breath. I can feel my breathing getting ragged at that, the present blurring with the past, and the last time she was drunk behind the wheel.
I shake my head, trying to separate the two, but flashes of Alec’s coffin play in my head. I have to get out of here before I lash out again. Maybe Marcus is right, perhaps it was all a fucked-up accident, but it doesn’t bring Alec back. He’s still dead, and the worst thing is, a part of me is grateful it wasn’t Sorrow who died that day. And doesn’t that just make me the world’s biggest traitor?
