“What’re you thinking about?” I ask, looking over my shoulder to make sure it’s safe to merge.
She looks at me hesitantly before she replies, “My mom.”
“That’s whose grave you were at,” I state, already knowing the answer.
“Yeah. She passed away a few months ago from cancer.” She smiles sadly, picking at her nails. I reach over and stop her, squeezing her hand in mine.
“My mom passed a long time ago, so I understand how much it hurts.”
“What happened?” Brielle asks.
I shake my head slightly, trying to find the right thing to say—it’s a touchy subject for me. But it does make me question why she even cares.
I don’t say anything as I exit the highway and turn into a parking lot, putting the car in park but not getting out.
I squeeze the steering wheel with a sigh. “My father killed her,” I manage to get out. If Brielle can talk about her mom, then I can, too—even if it’s to help her feel better.
Brielle gasps in shock and looks taken aback, but now that I’ve started, I don’t think I can stop.
“He let hisfriendsrape her repeatedly. Until one day, I couldn’t stand to hear her screams any longer, so I killed them all. But before I was able to kill him, he got to my mom first.”
There’s pure terror on her face as I tell my story. The memory of finding my mom on the ground under some fucking man sends a wave of anger through me. My skin itches, and I crave to feel them die at my hands all over again. I squeeze my eyes closed, only to open them when fingers touch my skin.
“I’m sorry,” Brielle whispers.
I grab her hand, bringing it to my lips and automatically feel better, even when she quickly pulls it away. She can fight this as much as she wants, but I can see her softening toward me. All I have to do is keep breaking through her hard shell, and she’ll be all mine.
19
BRIELLE
There’snothing to fucking do. I have no hobbies, no interests, no nothing. The only thing I have is these four white walls. Emris didn’t say anything else to me after we talked about his mom yesterday, and I won’t lie—hearing what happened made my heart hurt for him. I might not like him, but at least we have one thing in common.
Laughter drifts in from my window, shaking me back to the present. Standing from the bed, I grip the curtains and inch them slightly to the side. A fire pit is lit up, and chairs surround it. Emris and Carson are crowded around the bright orange flame with a few other people I don’t know.
Emris is impossible to miss, though. He’s well over six feet tall, and the fabric of his shirt stretches around the muscles of his arms. Dirty blond hair that’s messy but in a perfect kind of way—the kind that makes me want to run my fingers through it.
Every time he moves, the ink covering his skin seems to come alive. Tattoos go all the way up his arms in unique patterns, disappearing under his shirt and then climbing up his neck. Even from here, I can see how they frame his jaw, how they make him look even more dangerous.
He’s laughing at something Carson said, head tipped back without a care in the world.
Like the universe has never once told him no.
And I’m supposed to hate him. That’s the rule.
He’s the storm I should’ve seen coming, but standing up here, hidden behind the glass, it doesn’t feel like hate.
And that doesn’t sit well with me.
It doesn’t explain why my chest tightens when he steps closer to the fire, light tracing the lines of his tattoos up his throat.
Fuck, this is bad.
I let the curtain fall as a wave of jealousy hits me at how content he seems with his life. I’d do anything for a close group of friends. Shit, I’d be fine with a single friend. I mean, yeah, I have Bexley and Kristie, but I never allowed us to get all that close. If I let someone in, there’s a chance they will leave, and I don’t want to deal with the loss of another person if I can help it.
Music plays outside, and I sit at the end of the bed, not knowing what to do. I’m restless after going into town with Emris and how normal it felt—especially after the fight in the kitchen that tampered my mood—but now, being back in this room with the door locked, it’s as if the walls are slowly closing in on me.
I crave the normalcy of what my life was. Being stuck here is making me feel things I’m used to pushing down. I’m not sure if it’s because, despite all the shit Emris has pulled since the night he took me, I feel safe. For the first time in a long time, I feel safe. I don’t trust Emris or Carson, but if they wanted to hurt me, I think they would’ve done it already. And having somewhere to stay with a bed that doesn’t make me feel like I slept on the floor is definitely helping as well.
