I flinch.
He freezes.
I hate the concern in his eyes. The pity beneath.
“Never call me that again,” I rasp.
The shaking won’t stop. I need to get the fuck out of here.
Darting past him, I haul my ass upstairs. The hallway sways; my vision blurs. Unsteady legs carry me into the Jack-and-Jill bathroom connecting our rooms. I lock his side before crumbling in front of the toilet to vomit all the water in my stomach.
Except when I pry my eyes open, it’s only yellow bile.
I retch again.
Each shuddering breath makes ripples in the bowl. Jaw chattering, I wipe my mouth on the back of my hand and scoot across the tile until my shoulders rest against the cabinet.
My eyes close.
Her face blooms.
Black tears stream down her gaunt cheeks, mouth moving to words I can’t hear over the roar of my pulse. But I know what she’s saying. Over and over and over.
“I know, Mom,” I whisper. “I couldn’t save you either.”
Nine
SEBA
Too hot.
Too cold.
Too hot again.
Frustrated, I kick off the sheets and run a hand through my hair, gripping the roots. The digital clock on my nightstand blinks 2:16 a.m. Darkness saturates the room— no moon tonight. Neither the distant frog song nor physical exhaustion from my run earlier has knocked me out. Every time I start to drift off, I’m assaulted by an onslaught of images. They rewind and replay on repeat, taunting and twisting me into a confused mess.
A phantom silhouetted in cool LED light, lean muscles shifting beneath pearlescent skin. Shadows slinking around a slim waist and through the valleys disappearing into the waistband of pinstripe cotton shorts. And those smooth, creamy thighs…
Something stirs low in my abdomen. Tightens.
I don’t like men.It’s wrong.I don’t see men that way.So wrong.I’m straight.All wrong.
Even if I did, lust is a sin— let alone experiencing it for…him.
Cade.
My stepbrother.
Grinding my knuckles into my eye sockets, I try to think of anything else— football plays, SATs,anythingelse— but the barrage doesn’t let up. A slasher film of vicious eyes, venomous words and vindictive smirks cuts to a vacant stare, muffled gurgling, and uncontrollable shaking. Unable to hear me. Immovable. Trapped in a strange dissociative state.
Until I touched him.
My palm tingles at the memory of velvet softness over a firm bicep— gone in a flash as he recoiled, eyes wide with pure terror. He’s never looked so young. So fragile.
I’m not sure which version of him I’m more afraid of. Because that glimpse beneath the surface expelled all anger, instinct demanding me to go to him, hold him close and shield him from pain.
Pain caused byme.
