Page 4

Age 17

I tensed when I heard the screen door slam shut, terrified that my brother was going to come into my room.

And my parents always let him.

“He loves you so much, Jess,” my mom would say.

“He’s a kid. Don’t be such a brat,” my dad would say.

What did I say?

That Leo Darling was a fucking psycho.

And, of course, my seven-year-old psychopathic brother did come into my room.

He smiled at me so sweetly.

But his eyes?

They were blank.

No emotion whatsoever.

Just all-encompassing nothingness.

“What can I help you with, Leo?” I asked, packing my book bag.

I’d learned a long time ago that it was easier to let him in, otherwise I’d be kicked out of the house. Eventually, they’d let me back in, but not until I froze my proverbial balls off.

I’d slept in my car so often now that I had nearly my entire wardrobe in the trunk.

I’d worked my ass off to pay for that car.

Since I was fourteen years old, I’d been working at Sinclair Windsor’s ranch.

Well, he actually went by Denver.

He was the head honcho of the Dixie Wardens Motorcycle Club.

He was so damn scary, too.

But he paid well, didn’t complain when he had to jump my car to start it, and didn’t pretend like my little brother was an innocent soul who did nothing wrong.

The one and only time that I’d brought him to work with me, Denver had looked at my brother hours later and ordered me not to bring him back.

There was no proof, but there was a horse that had been hurt, and Leo was the only soul in the room with it when it happened.

“Open this, please?”

Goddammit.

I was almost afraid to see what it was that he was wanting me to open.

But if I didn’t humor him, he’d throw a fit, then slam himself face first into the wall. When our parents came rushing into the room, he’d point at me and cry and tell them that I was the one that hurt him.

Then they’d kick me out again.

I couldn’t get kicked out tonight.