She has enough on her plate without letting this drown her.
“It should, because neither of us have ever thought like that. We’re only glad to have you back where you belong.” A lazy smile tugs at my cheeks. “It’s been fucking boring without you.”
Her laugh is sad, and it scrapes against my heart.
I don’t want Jenna to live like this.
I, out of anyone, know what it’s like to hold on to these regrets, what they do to your mind.
“Yeah, right. I’m sure you two have gotten on just fine without me.”
“Nothing felt right without our girl.” I squeeze her hand.
She shakes her head, wiping the tears away with the back of her sleeve. “Stay safe,please.”
Gripping her to me again, I hug her just as hard as I did the first time she woke up, and whisper against her hair, “Always.”
14
Indie
cobra (rock remix) - megan thee stallion ft spiritbox
Myglareisfixatedon the wrought-iron bars of the Kensington estate, creeping open inch by inch, feeling like the gate has an invisible tie to my heart. It’s yanking it from my chest, dragging it towards hell on earth, and it’s hard to breathe.
“Relax, darling.”
I break my stare, following the low rumble of Saint’s voice. His eyes ground me the moment I lock with the steel-coloured irises, his palm kneading my thigh.
I nod, turning back to stare out into the gravel driveway. It took us over eight hours to get here; we stopped halfway to let everyone get a break. I’d even offered to drive the rest of the way, but Saint wouldn’t let me, and I’m kind of glad.
I felt a weird sense of calm up until an hour ago; now my body vibrates like turbulence, my nerve endings are on fire, and there’s a constant presence lurking at the back of my neck, gripping it every so often.
Saint, on the other hand, is a Google image search of a man unbothered.
He’s dressed in dark ripped jeans and a white hoodie, slouched back against the seat with his cigarette hanging out the window.
The people beyond those gigantic wooden doors want tokillhim. Quite literally, would happilytorturehim.
They know his name, have his face, and he hasn’t even broken a sweat. Meanwhile, my heart feels like it’s freefalling out of my ass.
The car groans to a stop, and my sweaty hands rub down my own jeans. I tug at the black knitted sweater, the material feeling too thick and itchy against my neck, and it’s suffocating.
The smell of tobacco slinks through the car, the vapour dancing in a haze as I turn to look at Saint. “You want one of these before you go in?”
I shake my head. With the way I’m about to hyperventilate, I might accidentally inhale the whole stick and choke to death. Probably doing everyone inside a damn favour.
He steps out of the car, rounding it as he reaches my door and opens it.
This is it.
This is where I find out whether my sister has plotted my demise.
“Look at me.”
My eyes cast upwards, andfuck. Trust Saint to be standing there like a God damn model with a permanent smoulder; he’s even got a cap on backwards that sends somersaults through my chest. The cigarette hangs loosely between his lips, one hand leaning atop of the door whilst the other cages me in against the frame. “Breathe.”
“How can you be so calm at a time like this!” I grind out, an urge to swat the damn cap off his head.
