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All I have now is ibuprofen.
With one hand, I place the bottle on the counter and twist the cap off, having perfected the one-handed twist on “child-proof” caps years ago. It pops. I purposefully knock the bottle and the pills spill on the granite countertop. I scoop a handful, not even counting and toss them back into my mouth.
As soon as they go down, I cough.
Sharp pain erupts in my ribs. They’re broken.
I know they’re broken.
Sinking onto my desk chair, I try to forget what happened. Maybe I can see the events from Hunter’s fucked-up vantage. He just…he threw a bag of potting soil to me. It was heavy. I didn’t see it coming. The bag slammed into my gut and knocked the wind out of my lungs.
I doubled over. Coughing. And the bag—it landed on a gardening hoe and tore open. Soil littered the floor.
Davis slapped me on the back of the head.
I tried to put distance between us, but I walked closer to Hunter. He shoved another bag at my back. As if I had hands connected to my spine to grab the damn thing.
He knew what he was doing.
The brunt force plowed me into a wooden shelf, and the corner jammed into my ribcage. I can still hear the crack in my ears. I can still feel my feet slipping beneath me and my legs buckling before I dropped to the ground.
“Come on, get up,” Davis said. “Don’t be such a pussy.”
I blink back the images, and my fingers tremble as I type on my cell. I’m keeping my promise to Willow.
I text: Made it back home. All good.
I know—I’m not telling her the whole truth.
But she doesn’t need to worry. I don’t need to be the tumor in her life. Especially because this was the last time I’m ever confronting my brothers.
Before I left the greenhouse, I did something I never do.
I told them, “I’m never seeing you again.” I choked out the seething words, and Hunter and Davis laughed. Like I’m some joke.
Mitchell got quiet. He looked between them and me, and his eyes fell to the floor in a daze.
I don’t think any of them really believe me.
But it’s true. I’m never going to see them again. Not even when I’m dead. I’d rather spend eternity in hell than come back as a ghost to haunt their asses. I refuse to let them have power over me anymore. The only problem…I forgot to grab my hard drive.
My stomach churns. It’s either my hard drive or seeing them again. Fuck the hard drive, then.
I lean back, close my eyes, and wait to go numb.
54
garrison abbey
The next two days are a bigger blur. I bury myself in work and barely leave my desk at Cobalt Inc. Cans of Lightning Bolt! are piled in a tiny trashcan, and despite the fact that my ass hasn’t left this chair for eight hours, my space is pretty organized.
I can’t think if there’s shit everywhere.
Suddenly, a Styrofoam container appears next to my keyboard. I stop typing to pull out two twenties from my pocket and hand the cash to the white guy standing beside my desk. Combed back auburn hair and an expensive suit, Keith looks like he’s auditioning for the role of Douchebag #3.
He’s a little older than me and an intern in the Cobalt magnets division. We have a deal going. He grabs food from the cafeteria three times a day for me, just so I don’t have to leave my desk, and he upcharges me for ten-dollar sushi.
It’s worth it.
And he should be walking away right now.
But he’s still here.
I point to my headphones. They’re noise-cancelling, so I can’t hear him past the soft beat of my music. I can’t even read his lips that well, but I see his brows furrow in frustration. Okay, I don’t want to lose my personal Uber Eats because I ignored him on a random Thursday. I yank my headphones to my neck.
“Abbey,” he says. “This is the last time I’m doing this.” He points to the Styrofoam. I grab it and open the lid, making sure he didn’t spit on the tuna rolls. As far as I can tell, the sushi looks perfect.
I put the container in my mini-fridge under my desk. “Why is this the last time? Do you want more money?” I could go up to fifty, I think.
“No,” Keith snaps. “I’m getting shit from the guys in my office. They’re calling me your bitch.” That’s really not a surprise. I’m not well-liked here.
For one, I have ties to Connor, and I refuse to give these pricks an “in” with the boss. No secrets about Connor are coming from my mouth, despite numerous requests for weird shit. Like his favorite liquor and what time of day he’s “least” likely to reject their proposal. Do I look like I’m a walking Connor Cobalt Wiki?
