Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
BANNER
She rears back as if I hit her, making me curse for my careless choice of words.
“Shit, I’m sorry. My mouth engaged before my brain did. Can I…will you let me help clean you up before we eat? I just need to see for myself that you’re okay.”
Her wary expression makes me want to punch something, but I know that won’t help either of us. Of course, she’s fucking wary. Look what I did to her the last time I was here. Add to that the shit day she’s had, and I’m likely the last person she wants to see.
The thing is, seeing her like this reminds me of the hollow-eyed little girl who came into our lives before everything got messed up. She carried the weight of the world on her shoulders, which sometimes made her hard to relate to. She was so young yet, in some ways, so much older than me.
I saw the world through rose-colored lenses. I had great parents, good grades, lots of money, and opportunities available to me. Our life experiences were vastly different, and I don’t think I realized that until now.
I knew she was grateful to be at our place.
She got to be a part of a family, something she didn’t have of her own.
But now I’m thinking over Marcus’s words and looking back over our history without those damn tinted glasses.
I feel like a fucking idiot because I can think of a dozen times when people praised my parents for being so charitable, even when Sorrow was right there to hear it.
Imagine knowing she was the charity case everyone was talking about.
Yes, she was included in a bunch of things, but we didn’t financially support her.
She was at our house and hung out with us, but isn’t that what most teenagers do with their friends anyway?
I don’t ever remember my parents’ charity extending to Sorrow’s school books or clothing.
I don’t remember them getting involved in what was going on in this house that made a young girl spend all her days as far from here as possible.
Taking a risk, I take one of Sorrow’s hands in mine and tug her closer. Before she can protest, I scoop her up and sit her on the counter, ignoring my dick twitching at the sound of her shocked gasp.
I rummage through the kitchen drawers until I find some clean kitchen towels and run one under the water. I wring it out and walk back over to her. I slide my hand between her knees and nudge them apart so I can step between them. My dick hardens even further.
I gently use the damp cloth to clean the dried blood from her face and neck before looking down at her chest. She gulps but doesn’t stop me when I move the towel lower. She shivers as I clean her up, and I can’t tell if it’s because of the cold or something else.
“There. I think the tank top is done for.” I place the towel next to her leg and slide my fingertips under the hem of her tank top.
Her breath hitches, but when she doesn’t stop me, I slowly glide the ruined material up her body.
I wait for her to raise her arms, and when she does, I pull it free and toss it in the trash.
I frown as I see her grimace when she lowers her arms. “Are you hurt somewhere else?” I ask her gently, trying not to spook her as I once again pick up the towel and clean the blood from her skin that seeped through her tank top.
I try not to stare at her chest, but it’s fucking hard when the only thing separating my mouth from them is a scrap of pink lace.
I look up when I realize she hasn’t answered me. “You’re hurt somewhere else, aren’t you? Where?”
She hesitates a moment before moving her hand around to her back. I move around her and curse when I see the large bruise just above her hip.
“Did I do this?” I gently touch my fingers to it, making her shiver, before I move back in front of her. I hold her chin with my thumb and forefinger and stare into her pretty, dark eyes. “Did I do that to you?”
She shakes her head, and I let out a sigh of relief.
I finish cleaning her up before tossing the towel in the trash too. “How the hell did you even get in this state?”
She lifts her hand to tuck her hair behind her ear, and my eyes zero in on her bandaged wrists.
“Sorrow?”
She looks from me to the bandages before rolling her eyes. Tugging her cell phone from her pocket, she starts typing.
I’m not sure where your mind just went, but these are from having handcuffs on too tight for too long. That’s also how all this happened. She shows me the text before she waves at her face.
When the rookie shoved me in the back of the car, I couldn’t put my hands out to catch myself, so I landed on my nose and sliced my gum with my tooth, both of which bled like I was an extra in Carrie. I read as she types.
I take a step back as her words sink in, because all of a sudden, I have the urge to rip the rookie’s head off.
I don’t want her to feel like the rage is aimed at her.
I frown. Why am I so mad now? I wasn’t happy when I saw the footage, but I didn’t lose my shit.
I figured there was a justifiable reason for it all.
But then I stood in that observation room and I realized it was all fabricated nonsense. It made me question if anything is what it seems.
Her stomach chooses that moment to rumble loudly, making her blush.
I tug my T-shirt over my head and slip it over hers, smirking when her mouth drops open in shock.
Truth is, if I don’t cover her boobs, she’s gonna be in a world of trouble because my mouth is watering at the thought of feasting on them.
I lift her from the counter, trying to ignore how good her body feels pressed against mine, and walk over to the table before I forget all the reasons this is a shitty idea.
She pulls out a chair while I pull out the other and open the pizza boxes.
I move one in front of her and frown when she stares down at it, a sheen covering her eyes.
“You good?”
You remember what pizza I like? she types and holds it up for me to see.
I shrug it off, not wanting to make a big deal over it. “Only weirdos like pineapple on pizza. Trust me. It’s hard to forget something as messed up as that.”
She snorts, picking up a slice and taking a big bite.
Okay, Canadian bacon, onions, mushrooms, and pineapple are not the weirdest things I’ve seen on pizza. Arlo holds that record. I mean, who the fuck puts tuna on pizza, for God sake?
“Is it good?” I ask, adjusting myself when she groans.
She nods, her eyes slipping closed. God, damn it, when did eating pizza suddenly become pornographic?
I focus on my food, only stopping to grab the cans of Coke from the bag and hand her one. Neither of us speaks until the food is gone, the ease of the moment slipping once her focus is back on me.
“Tell me what happened today.”
Her eyes widen before she jumps up. For a second, I think something is wrong until she holds her hand up for me to wait until she makes a call.
She leaves the room as I clean up, but my curiosity gets the better of me when I hear voices.
At first, I’m pissed, thinking she’s been playing me, until I realize the voice sounds robotic.
I step closer, peer around the wall, and watch her pace as she texts and the phone reads out what she’s writing.
I move away to give her privacy, even though I want to know what the fuck is happening. By the time she comes back, I’ve cleaned up and gotten rid of the trash. I take a seat at the table once more and wait for her to join me.
She grips the phone in her hand.
“I’m not going anywhere, Sorrow, so spill.”
Her eyes flash with anger. For a second, I worry the Coke can will end up getting thrown at my head, but she starts typing and her phone speaks for her.
“I went to the hardware store to buy some paint and other supplies to freshen up the place. The realtor said I had no chance of selling it as it is without taking a huge loss. Anyway, the rookie came in while I was paying and told me my taillight was out. I didn’t think much of it.
He followed me out, and when I went to the look, it was fine.
That’s when the rookie smashed it right in front of me. ”
“He say why?”
She shakes her head.
“If he did, I don’t remember. I don’t know him. He’s not someone I recall from before, so I’m not sure why he acted the way he did unless he was instructed to.”
I tense up, wondering if she’s about to accuse me, but she doesn’t.
She goes on to tell me the rest, not hiding anything, even the part where he said he smelled alcohol on her breath.
I can feel my breathing getting ragged at that, the present blurring with the past, and the last time she was drunk behind the wheel.
I shake my head, trying to separate the two, but flashes of Alec’s coffin play in my head.
I have to get out of here before I lash out again.
Maybe Marcus is right, perhaps it was all a fucked-up accident, but it doesn’t bring Alec back.
He’s still dead, and the worst thing is, a part of me is grateful it wasn’t Sorrow who died that day.
And doesn’t that just make me the world’s biggest traitor?
“I’ve gotta go.”
I don’t wait for her to respond. I walk out, closing the door behind me before hurrying home without looking back.
Maybe I don’t hate her as much as I thought I did. Maybe I don’t hate her, but it changes nothing. Forgiveness at this point is optional, but forgetting everything we lost is impossible.
I barely sleep a wink all night, and when I do, I dream of Alec snarling down at me for betraying him.
I see my mother’s tear-stained face as she sees me holding hands with Sorrow and my father clutching his heart like he’s dying.
Each nightmare is worse than the one before it.
In the end, I’m up before the sun, working out to burn off some of this restless energy.