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I belonged to no man.
Make it go away, Jentry.
I slammed my head back into my brother’s face, a wicked laugh bursting from my chest when all I wanted to do was scream and cry.
“Goddamn it, Jessica.” Jentry forced me the last few feet to his car and shoved me down onto the hot hood. “Damn it,” he growled.
“You feel that, Jent?” I asked, taunting. “You feel that anger? It’s always been inside you. You ruin everything you touch. How’s that little wife of yours? Ruined yet?” I continued, blinking when my eyes burned. “You can’t run from who you are.”
Make it go away.
The pain.
The madness.
Momma’s addiction.
The men in that car.
The others watching in the dark.
Losing the only man who mattered.
Everything.
Get mad, Jentry . . . and make it go away.
Jentry forced me up from the hood, and I shot one more glare at the black SUV as he pushed me toward the back of his car and roughly helped me inside.
“You can’t arrest me,” I said on a rush before he could shut the door behind me. “He wants me arrested so he can prove he owns me.”
For the first time in our lives, Jentry looked at me like I’d actually lost my mind. “Jesus Christ, Jessica, what the hell is wrong with you?”
“The men in that black SUV over there,” I said, jerking my head in the direction of the car with its lights off. “They follow me. Stalk me. He said I belong to him.”
Jentry searched my eyes for a moment then turned to stare at the vehicle. “No bullshit?” With another careful look directed at me, he blew out a calming breath. “Okay, Jess. Okay.” With that, he shut my door, and I watched as he crossed the street to walk calmly to the car I’d sat in just the day before.
I held my breath as he shined his flashlight in the windows, but my stomach dropped when he cupped his hands on them and peered inside. After circling the SUV and standing in front of it for a few minutes, he walked to where I sat in his patrol car with a frustrated look on his face.
“Why I let you talk me into that . . .” he said once he was in the driver’s seat. “Ran the plates. It belongs to a woman in her forties.”
“No, he—”
“One day you’re gonna let me help you. One day, Jess. And I hope I don’t see or hear from you again until that day comes.”
If only he understood that I’d been trying to get him to help me for years.
It just wasn’t the help he wanted to give.
He wanted to save me. To make me better. To give me a life he had.
I was waiting for him to make it all go away.
Because when you’re chained to this life, there is no making it better. There is no saving.
There’s surviving . . . and there’s dying.
r /> When no one came back to the house after three days, I went to our old school and waited for him there.
