My husband’s voice is hoarse and strained. “What have you done, Rebel?”
I resist the urge to sigh. I messed up, I know, but I’ve also been in a fucking car accident, so some empathy would be nice.
“Hey, baby,” I tell him in a voice that makes it clear how much I need him.
He doesn’t move from his spot in the doorway.
“My whole body hurts,” I try again, but he looks annoyed.
I frown. This doesn’t feel right. Dylan has always been there for me. Always.
More than my own parents, more than my brother, more than any friend or boyfriend I’ve ever had.
On the worst day of my life, I could always close my eyes and console myself with the knowledge that Dylan Barnes loved me and that he thought I was the most amazing woman in the world. Even when he knocked that stupid bitch up, I was still number one in his heart.
When I left him, I had naively thought the world was full of men like Dylan.
In a life as unstable and messed up as mine, his unconditional love was my one safe harbor. My favorite drug.
But that’s not exactly true anymore, is it? A nasty little voice whispers, and I feel the familiar dread tense my stomach.
“Bell, I’m talking to you!” Dylan’s angry voice breaks through my mental fog. “Were you or were you not smoking meth with my son in the house?”
I close my eyes. The cops must have told him everything.
“He was downstairs, and I was in our bathroom,” I whisper, hoping to at least cushion the blow.
Dylan looks devastated, like he’d been holding on to hope until this very moment.
He likes living in his fantasy world, and I’ve never discouraged it because I liked being its queen.
“Are you… How long have you been using?”
“I’m not some addict!” I sit up, and the pain in my shoulder almost feels good. “I smoke occasionally, but I can stop any time I want.”
“Do you hear yourself right now? You sound just like every other junkie out there!”
I make a face but say nothing. Everything about this conversation is fucking annoying, and it’s hard to focus.
“Answer me. How long?”
I try to think about it. “I started using more often during my time with Carlos.”
“Was that why you stole from him?”
For some reason, I can’t be bothered to lie anymore. “I stole drugs here and there at first, and when I suspected he found out, I took the money and ran.”
“Did he even put his hands on you, or was that also a lie?”
I run my tongue over my teeth but don’t say anything.
Oops.
Dylan runs his hand over his face and sits down on the chair that’s against the wall. Why doesn’t he sit in the one next to my bed?
“What I don’t get is, what was Claw thinking, selling to you? Sly would have killed him if he found out,” he asks after a while. “Were you sleeping with him? Is that why?”
I laugh and laugh until Dylan angrily tells me to stop. He doesn’t understand how ridiculous he’s being.
