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It rested halfway open, and a wedge of muted light spilled into the hallway. I kept her room lit in a milky glow in hopes that it would keep the nightmares at bay, that she wouldn’t be swallowed by the shadows of depravity that had stolen the safety from her life.
I pushed her door open wider, hovering at the doorway, her tiny frame tucked beneath the covers and her brown hair spread across her pillow.
Peaceful.
Torment gripped me by the throat. A slither of vipers sent to slay.
I was fucking this up. I’d already known that I would. But I was doing it in the most extraordinary way. Completely and irrevocably, scarring the child deeper than she’d already been.
Kimberly would kick my ass if she knew, but she didn’t have that chance anymore, did she? She didn’t get to raise her daughter—because of me.
And here I stood, fucking inept and incapable.
Trepidation burned through my nerves, this push against the pull that sank like claws into my spirit, my fear against the devotion I held for this little girl. I eased forward, keeping my footsteps light to ensure I didn’t wake her. My hand shook when I leaned down so I could carefully set it on her cheek. “I’m sorry, Evelyn.”
Sorry that I was ill-equipped.
Sorry that my soul had ceased to exist.
Sorry that she’d lost everything that mattered, and her world had been shattered.
Sorry there was no way to reclaim it or fix it, and I sure as fuck couldn’t fill it.
Rage and determination billowed through my bloodstream, and I brushed my thumb along the apple of her cheek, my insides quaking at the contact, at her sweet face that reminded me of every mistake I had made.
“I will at least make this one thing right. Protect you and keep you safe. I promise you, Evelyn.”
And I wouldn’t stop until I had avenged what had been stolen from her.
For a few moments, I remained there, watching her, knowing there was no hope sleep would come for me.
Finally, I forced myself to stand, and I eased out of her room, pulling the door back to its half-closed position. I headed for my room that was on the opposite wing of the second floor.
The buzz from my phone in my pocket echoed through the heavy quiet of the house. I dug it out, and a scowl took to my brow when I saw it was a text from Ryder.
Ryder
Where the fuck are you?
“Shit,” I grumbled as I took note of the time.
Ten-fifteen. I was supposed to be at some bar at ten to celebrate Ezra’s birthday.
I didn’t know if I’d spaced it or ignored it. Last thing I wanted to do was spend my evening at some grungy bar.
Unease burned through my consciousness.
Or maybe it was my actual conscience that throbbed.
Truth be told, I didn’t want to tell him about Paisley quitting today, either. Didn’t want to admit I’d been a complete asshole and had run off the one woman who had managed to make Evelyn smile because I couldn’t seem to rein the chaos she incited in me.
There was something about her that made me want what I couldn’t have, but wanted to control anyway.
Nothing but a selfish prick trampling every good thing beneath my feet.
Me
I never told you I was coming. It’s been a long day.
Ryder
No excuses, man. It’s Ezra’s birthday. Get your ass down here. No one’s gonna bite.
Guilt constricted my chest. Before I could respond, another text came through.
Ryder
Know this isn’t your thing, but you came here to make a home for you and Evelyn. To start new. You can begin by being a part of this community. Meet some people. Hell, you might even enjoy yourself.
Un-fucking-likely.
Still, I found myself tapping out a response because my younger cousin had always had a way of getting what he wanted.
Me
Fine. I’ll be there soon.
NINE
PAISLEY
Antsy energy shivered down my spine as I stepped through the doors of Mack’s to the loud thrum of a country band.
After the day I’d had, I was ready to blow off some steam.
I needed a place to dump this fiery frustration, the hurt that sat like a stone in the middle of my chest.
I still couldn’t believe one person could be so awful.
And God, he was awful.
So presumptive and arrogant and just plain, freaking mean. Tossing his rules all over the place, which were BS in themselves, but also doing it while he had absolutely no idea what he was talking about.
All while doing it with a spite that had struck like arrows.
I might have been the one who’d quit, but he was the one responsible for killing the little spark of something that had lit inside me. A kindle that had flamed. And the jerk had stomped it out in his two-thousand-dollar shoes.
I refused to subject myself to that kind of assholery.
