Page 29 of Finding Storm

Jake stares at me for what feels like forever. Then, he nods once.

Pain lances across my chest.

“But don’t blame Tru,” he’s quick to say. “Like I said before, this is on me. She wanted to tell you. I wouldn’t let her.”

I stare at Jake.

The pain and anger and hurt are coursing through me. I can’t feel anything but that.

I shut it all down, numbing myself to it. No longer allowing myself to feel anything.

When you’ve been hurt over the years, you get used to protecting yourself.

“I don’t blame her. Or the others.” My voice is arctic.

My eyes move over Tom and Denny and then rest on Jake.

“I blame the three of you. You were Jonny’s family. You were my family.” I let out a cold laugh. “And as of right now, we’re done.” I let my eyes flash over them all again, so they know that I’m serious. That I mean this. That I blame them all equally. “As far as I’m concerned, the three of you are as dead to me as Jonny is.”

I don’t miss the way they flinch.

And I don’t fucking care either.

I turn on my heel and stride down the hall, getting the fuck out of there, ignoring the sound of them all calling my name.

I jog out of the building, shoving past some people coming in, ignoring their grunts of annoyance.

I don’t care about anything but getting as far away from here as possible.

Anger is like my life force at the moment. It’s what’s keeping me going.

I’m at my car in seconds. Spotting a ticket on my windshield, I grab it and toss it onto the passenger seat as I get in my car.

I start my car and shove it into drive, and I take off with a screech of tires.

As I glance back in my rearview, I see Jake, Tom, and Denny come bursting out of the doors I just exited.

The sight of them enrages me further.

I raise my hand and lift my middle finger to them even though there’s no way they’ll see.

The pissed off, humiliated child in me feels marginally better for a moment.

A minute later, my cell starts vibrating in my pocket and ringing through the car system.

My eyes flash to the car’s screen display.

Jake.

“Fuck off.” I grit my teeth, my hands gripping the steering wheel. I press my foot down on the gas, propelling my car forward faster.

The ringing stops.

It starts up again.

Tom this time.

“FUCK OFF!” I yell at the display screen.