Chapter 20 #2
Her hand tightens around the neck of the bottle, fingers going white.
“Oh, I’m not upset,” she says sweetly. “I’m fucking furious,” she erupts. “What the hell is wrong with that club? All that stupid asshole had to do was talk to you. One would think he would’ve learned a thing or two from his idiot brother,” she mumbles, eyes darkening, jaw clenched.
I blink, a little stunned by the fire behind her gaze.
She leans back, practically vibrating with rage. I take another long drink, watching her with wide eyes, seeing her unravel, one thread at a time. It’s fascinating.
“Shit,” she finally breathes out, her voice almost a whisper. “I have to tell you, honest to God, I didn’t know what to think when Ria said she was bringing you over. She didn’t tell me anything. And you’re kind of a legend in that club.”
A humorless, bitter laugh escapes her. “From the bits and pieces I knew, the story wasn’t pretty. And you were the villain. But damn, I didn’t expect all of that.”
We got to her place two hours ago. The introduction was awkward and stiff.
Then she dragged me into the kitchen, poured a drink, and demanded I spill everything.
Everything. I didn’t want to, not really.
But Temperance is… intense. And a little scary.
Okay — a lot fucking scary. So I told her.
All of it. Didn’t spare a single detail.
“I did give the testimony against him to the police and in court,” I whisper, fingers curling tight around the stem of my glass.
I feel my chest tighten. I thought I was done with the guilt. I thought I’d buried it deep enough that it wouldn’t crawl back up. Clearly, I was wrong. I need to deal with that once and for all.
Temperance looks at me like I’ve just sprouted another head. Her mouth drops open slightly before she snaps it shut.
“So what?” she spits. “You were a kid. What the hell were you supposed to do? You didn’t plant those drugs on him. A testimony is just words. They needed evidence to back it up.”
She leans forward, eyes burning with something cold. It sends a chill down my spine.
“Listen here, Adora. I can see it in you. It’s plain as fucking day.
Life has beaten you down, ground you into submission.
It’s why Ghost’s twisted little revenge plan worked so perfectly.
You need to toughen the hell up if you want to survive.
If you want things to change.” Her voice is low, lethal.
“It’s a war, and if you don’t start fighting, the bad shit’s gonna win.
And it won’t leave room for anything good. ”
She nods once, like she delivered a sermon and expects me to confess my sins. Takes a long drink from her own glass, eyes narrowed and waiting. Daring me to disagree.
“You sound like my therapist. Just with a lot more swear words,” I mumble, half-heartedly.
I tip back half my wine and let the burn simmer down my throat.
But her words crackle through me like wildfire.
Because she’s right, isn’t she? I’ve been living my life like a lamb led to slaughter.
Accepting everything bad as if it’s my due.
Like I deserve it. Like I’m not worthy of anything good.
That thought shakes something inside me, and I jolt in my seat. Shit.
Temperance’s gaze sharpens. She leans back, swirling the wine in her glass with a slow, practiced motion. “What are you going to do to him?”
I blink. “What?”
“To Ghost,” she clarifies, eyes narrowing with a predatory gleam. “What are you going to do to him?”
“Nothing,” I say immediately, brows knitting together.
“I’m not going to do anything to him. He followed me around for some time, and I ignored him.
” I pause. Chuckle. “I ghosted him. Might have threatened him with a taser,” I smirk, remembering the look on his face.
“That made him back off. He hasn’t followed me in a while. ”
She scoffs, full of disbelief. “That’s what you think,” she mutters, taking a long drink from her glass. “I bet he’s still lurking around. You just don’t see him.”
The idea slams into me like a fist to the gut. I hadn’t even considered it.
“You should just taser him,” she continues casually. “That might actually teach him a lesson.”
She pauses, eyes going wide, almost comically so. “Shit. My therapist would be so disappointed if she heard me say that.” A laugh bubbles up, unrestrained, but it dies quickly.
“You should focus on you for now,” she says, voice dropping to a whisper. “Forget the asshole. You need to take care of yourself.”
Her eyes cut through me, dissecting, peeling back layers of my soul.
“You still feel something for him, don’t you?”
The question cuts straight through my heart. I snap my spine straight, defensive. “It’ll pass,” I growl.
Temperance puts up a hand, silencing me with a look.
“I’m not accusing you of anything. Feelings don’t just vanish because you want them to.
For some, it’s a process. An ugly journey.
” She pauses, eyes flicking over my face, assessing.
“But you said he married you.” She leans further back, takes a sip, eyes glinting over the rim of her glass. “You might want to take care of that.”
Well, that’s a punch back to reality. “Shit,” I whisper, a little horrified. “I just realized I need to file for divorce. Why the fuck didn’t I think of that until now?”
She just shrugs, a small smile creeping onto her lips. “You had other shit to deal with. Take it one step at a time.”
“I’m coming in!” A voice — bright and unapologetically loud — cuts through the air, echoing from the back door.
Layla steps inside, eyes landing on us with something akin to desperation.
“I’m really sorry to interrupt, but I really, really need a bite of that cherry pie Ria brought over,” she says, one hand cradling her swollen belly. Her other hand rubs over the curve in slow circles. “The baby demands it. Otherwise, it’ll keep kicking my liver into oblivion.”
I swear, this woman exudes confidence with every wobbly step she takes. I remember Ghost mentioning her over a decade ago, but I never got to meet her.
I stand, the chair scraping against the floor. “Take a seat. I’ll get it for you.”
She waves me off casually. “No, no, I’m fine. I can get it. I just can’t sit in these chairs Temperance has. They’re like torture devices. Pretty, but I’m fucking sure they were designed to snap spinal cords.”
Temperance rolls her eyes, scoffing loudly. “You’re just too fucking pregnant,” she fires back, but there’s no real heat to it.
Layla chuckles and waddles over to the counter where the pie sits. Before she even takes two steps, Griffin materializes behind her out of thin air. Eyes scanning the room.
“I heard we were given free access to the pie,” he says, stepping fully into the kitchen.
He jerks a thumb over his shoulder, toward the backyard. “Ria passed out, by the way. I guess she decided to single-handedly tackle that entire bottle of wine we brought.”
A muffled yell erupts from outside. “Shut up, Kitten! I’m not a lightweight! And I’m not asleep!” It’s a half-mumbled, half-roared indignant sound.
Everyone bursts into laughter.
I feel lighter than I’ve felt in a long time.
These people — I like them. I like them too much.
I’ve never met others like them. Understanding.
Funny. Impossibly kind. Everything in my life always hung by a thread.
Ready to fall into the pits of hell at any moment.
Even this last year with Ghost. I dared hope, sure.
But there was always an unspoken warning clinging to the back of my mind. I just stupidly chose to ignore it.
“Here,” Layla says, interrupting my thoughts as she shoves a plate into my hands. A tiny slice of cherry pie sits on it, smothered in cream.
“Everyone gets a piece. I get the rest.” She flashes a wicked grin, the kind that dares anyone to argue.
Griffin groans dramatically, dropping into a chair with a huff.
“I’m getting crumbs again, aren’t I?” he mutters dejectedly.
I sit back down, still clutching my plate, watching Layla practically levitate to the table with her own piece. Her hand absently strokes her belly, fingers splayed wide, protective.
“Do you know what you’re having?” I ask, nodding toward her stomach.
Her smile softens, eyes going distant for just a second. Then she looks back at me.
“A little girl,” she whispers, voice threaded with awe, like she can’t quite believe it herself.
I burned my favorite book. Sugar and Ash — both volumes — were swallowed by flames in Temperance’s backyard, during a mock funeral held for whatever was between Ghost and me.
That’s when I felt a real shift in my life, like I wasn’t standing on quicksand anymore, but on solid ground.
It’s been months since I left that hospital bed, broken and pieced back together with nothing but the bare minimum of hope.
The bad days don’t come as often now. They used to be relentless, nipping at my heels almost every fucking morning like rabid dogs.
Now it’s just once every few weeks, which is manageable.
I’ve been busy, though. Distracted. Griffin’s place was perfect for my little bookstore, like fate wanted me to stumble into it.
Finding a supplier wasn’t hard, but dealing with contractors? That sucked ass. They were a fucking headache. Delays, excuses, half-finished jobs that made me want to tear my hair out. Until, miraculously, everything sped up overnight.
Next Chapter is finally done, and it’s beautiful.
The only problem is that there’s barely been a trickle of customers.
The grand dream of readers pouring through the doors?
Just that — a dream. It’s been days of watching dust settle on untouched shelves, anxiety festering in my gut.
Maybe I jumped in too fast. Maybe I should’ve planned better.
Maybe I’m just destined to fuck everything up.
Ria dropped off coffee earlier and I’ve been clutching the cup like it can hold me together.