Series: Shame On You Series by Willow Winters
Total pages in book: 55
Estimated words: 51495 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 257(@200wpm)___ 206(@250wpm)___ 172(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 51495 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 257(@200wpm)___ 206(@250wpm)___ 172(@300wpm)
I swallow thickly, refusing to look back at my brother as the memories of what she almost did play back in my mind.
“Carter didn’t tell you?” I ask him as I stare at the window and the car ushers forward again. My throat is tight and my voice nearly cracks, “He didn’t tell you what happened?”
Silence from my brother brings my attention back to him. He doesn’t look back at me as he drives, his hand twisting on the leather steering wheel. He adjusts in his seat and takes in an audible breath but still doesn’t say anything.
“He had to have told you,” I press him, not wanting to be the one to say it out loud again. I don’t want to breathe more life into it. I want it all to die and wither away, never to be thought of again.
“Which part?” Jase questions, gently and carefully. When he looks back at me all I see is pity.
“The part where she asked me to kill her in her sleep?” I question him with tears pricking at the back of my eyes. “Or the part where she almost killed herself and jumped out the fucking window?” My voice raises as my hands tremble.
I’ll never forget that sight. I’ll never forget the way it felt to hold the woman I love, while she held me back with everything in her, relieved to be done running and accepting of her death.
So long as I live, she shouldn’t have those fears. She shouldn’t have those thoughts.
Tears escape and I angrily brush them away at my brother’s silence. “Well did he fucking tell you?” I nearly scream at him, the anger more my friend than the sadness that sinks it’s claws into me.
Jase’s response is gentle again, “Yeah, yeah he told me what the lawyer told him and what you told the lawyer. We all know.” Jase’s shoulders relax somewhat, his tone is comforting when he looks back at me. “I know it can be hard when there’s tension between you and the person you have feelings for–”
“Tension?” Indignation ricochets in the cabin of the car as I yell out. “Tension?”
Jase looks out the window and when he looks ahead, I can see it in his face. “What do you want me to call it, Declan? What do you want me to say?” he asks and it’s obvious he’s not doing well with it either. Then it hits me.
“You tell Bethany?” I ask him and he better fucking not have. No one else needs to know. For the love of God, it all just needs to go away.
“Yeah,” he admits.
“What the hell?” I kick back in my seat wanting nothing more than to get out of the fucking car.
“I had to!”
“Had to?” I can barely look at him when he looks back with that look in his eyes. Bethany is his wife, but she’s also worked in a psych ward.
“She might need help,” he says, as if it’s that easy. As if there’s a pill that can take all those thoughts away.
“Like a fucking pill? Like being admitted?”
“I didn’t say that,” he answers.
“She was perfect and I ruined her,” I say the truth out loud. If she’d never met me, she’d be happy and loved. Some nine-to-five bastard would have loved her right. He would have never let anyone hurt her. He wouldn’t have let her think those thoughts.
I’m not ashamed to let it all out, my body shaking as the tears spill.
The tires squeal as Jase pulls over, his seatbelt clicks off and his hand is on my shoulder as he tells me it’s going to be all right. How the fuck could it possibly be all right when I don’t even know what to say to her? I’m afraid I’m only going to hurt her more.
Braelynn
Carter said they would keep me safe, but in the bedroom with the door closed, I don’t feel safe at all.
There’s a mix of nervousness and something else. Something I can’t place. I don’t know what I feel. The room is warm. It’s clean. It’s a room I know all too well and one that holds both good and bad memories. I don’t have the feeling anyone is going to rush in and arrest me. That’s better than before, at least. I sit on the bed and turn the screen of my phone on and off again. Checking for a message from him.
I just need him here.
Closing my eyes, I inhale deeply. The room smells like him. His clothes are in the closet.
I’m all too aware that I can’t call anyone. I can’t see anyone. I’m a prisoner all over again.
I don’t know what to do or if I even should do anything. It’s easy in a way to simply not think and be a prisoner.
My body is tired and a little numb. It takes more effort than it should to go to the pristine bathroom, brush my teeth, and wash my face. I go through the drawers of all the clothes Declan bought me, although none feel comfortable and many are still confiscated in the duffle I took to the hotel. Instead, I settled on an undershirt from Declan’s drawer. I change and get under the covers.