Chapter 31 #2
The white picket fence is a lie. Just like the iceberg roses and the calla lilies that alternate all around the perfectly manicured square of lawn.
Actually scratch that. I feel like the perfect square is a tell.
There isn’t a blade of grass out of place.
Something about the more perfect the exterior, the worse a mess the inside a person is.
I wonder if that applies to a perfect-looking, oversized suburban house.
If it does, then Brad is as tarnished on the inside as humanity can possibly be.
This week alone proves my judge of character is the poorest out there. West and Cord have been nothing but generous with their time and love. For so long I didn’t trust either of them. Now I’m seeing the truth too late.
I put my trust in the wrong man long ago and the price tag has been higher than I ever expected. I can accept the cost to myself, even though I shouldn’t. My mistake, and my payment. But Lanie? Hell, no, and Sally…
A hiccup erupts in my throat and I swallow hard, sliding out of my brother’s truck.
Part of me wants to trounce across the garden, but West is right: Brad is so far from being in his right mind that he’s unpredictable.
Or maybe he’s predictable in his unpredictability?
I don’t know enough about the psychology to guess at his next actions. I wish I did.
Instead, I walk through the tiny kissing gate, letting it close gently behind me, and up to the front porch.
And knock.
“Any more of these today and I’ll be the Knock-Knock Queen,” I mutter under my breath.”
“Are you selling something?” Brad appears on the other side, holding the door open like he’s been waiting for me to arrive. “You’re—”
“Late, as always,” I finish for him, and smile. If he wants to go nuts, I’ll bring the crazy to him. Today will end, but not the way he expects. Too many lines have been crossed. “Let’s move right along, then.” I walk inside his house without removing my boots.
Clump, clump, clump.
My footsteps are too loud in the empty space that’s half-furnished.
“Love what you’ve done with the place.” I don’t stop, even when he does. “Are we going out the back? Chop-chop.”
Something flickers in his pale gaze when I glance over my shoulder at him. Annoyance, surprise? I’m not sure. I don’t really care, either.
“This way.” His calm demeanor is back, a mask I don’t know. Unnerving. “Sally is sleeping.”
Fuck. You.
Ice douses my veins at his words. He wants me to run. Chase him. Scream and be crazy. That’s coming. My own brand of madness rises to combat his. Brad plays games, and I’ve been his unwilling participant for years.
I follow him to a small living area. Sally is curled at one end of a loveseat. Her legs are tucked up as she lies on her side, her hands tucked under her face, like a sleeping angel.
And she’s pale.
My heart—
No longer works.
I stare down at her and take a step closer.
Brad says nothing.
Another step. And one more before I reach her and sink down at her side.
I don’t look at him for permission, as he no longer matters.
My hand drifts across her side, not rushing anything, because with Brad’s games, panicking and throwing myself at Sally’s side is the reaction he needs.
That’s the sort of energy he feeds off. It takes everything I am not to scream at him.
That might still happen. I don’t know yet. First, I do need to know something.
The most terrifying thing.
I slide my hand beneath her hair, as though I’m straightening it. My fingers rest on her skin, where she’s—
Warm. Pulse.
There. Faint, but steady.
“Just a light sedative to keep her quiet. She got very noisy when I sent Mrs. Rand away. It looks like you’re not Cordell’s favorite any longer.” He talks at me like that’s a big deal.
Fuck. You. I try to keep my calm, anything to maintain the status quo, but my hands tremble as I scoop Sally into my arms. Everything inside me shakes, my adrenaline already pumping, as I push hard at my thighs and rise, my heart thrashing in my chest.
Don’t let him see it. Don’t let him see it. If my terror is obvious to him, he’ll tear both of us apart in a second. Staying calm, outwardly, is my only option. I go with my next best option: cold fury. It’s not quite calm, but for a few minutes, it might just do.
“Thank you, Brad, for all the harm you’ve done, and more. You really have proved yourself to be an utter ass over the years.” I nod to him, Sally already heavy, a dead weight in my arms, and walk.
Back the way I came.
“You’ll stop.” Surety coats his voice in arrogance and command.
The brainwashed version of Winnie Hamilton from ten years ago listened. Today, she no longer cares.
Not for you.
I’m in the hallway with its white walls that remind me of the hospital. Sterile and lifeless.
“Winnie, put her down right now. She’s my child.” Desperation charges the air around us, the sort that I felt hours ago and that still roils inside me like a nest of parasites, all bearing little Brad heads.
Nothing you say will make that happen.
The bedrooms doors are closed. I wonder if they are empty, like his heart.
“Don’t you want to know why?”
I know why. It’s power. In some form. The millions in inheritance and gifts that Cordell gives to Sally each birthday. The birthday that’s coming up for her shortly. The two-million-dollar baby.
No, the actual why doesn’t matter.
The foyer. I’m so close.
Three steps.
Sally is so heavy in my arms. Pushing my adrenaline high. I will myself not to run because he’ll chase me.
And then it’s all over.
To the door. My foot right next to it.
His breath spreads its humid tendril over my ear. So close. “Did you think I’d let you go?”
The cold blade presses at my side. The metal bites. Then, the searing pain.
Don’t let go. Don’t let her go. She can’t—
And then falling, falling. Until the door opens even though I’m not the one who’s pulled it inward. Coal-gray eyes blazing. Weight lifting from my arms as he steps over me with fury etched in every deep line of his face.
The burning ice-cold pain leaves me, and I’m still falling while the world is upside down from where I lie.
West’s shouts fill the room as hands press against my body.
Everything looks like the inside of a fishbowl.
Sound and light are distorted. His shouts dull and throb, but there are no more words of cruelty and pain.
And Sally is in my arms. I know that until someone tries to take her away. And the sensation of my throat burning joins the pain in my side.
The world shifts and everything is a blur of blue and black and white.
Time rushes; seconds slow. And between it all, West is there.
His hand rarely leaves mine. A few moments or hours where he’s gone when I blink.
I’m in different rooms. Once when my side burns, and then the room is too bright and I’m floating. The coal-gray eyes are absent.
When I wake next, warmth is pressed to my side, and long hair hangs across my chest that’s not mine at all.
My arm is numb beneath Sally’s head as I hold her to me.
Actually, that might be the other way around; she’s still snoring.
Someone has covered us with her wolf blanket.
It smells like jasmine and Montana dust and home.
And West leans against the doorway, always watching.