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Miranda’s lifeless eyes flash into my mind.
It doesn’t matter how many times I see or experience it. When someone’s lifeless eyes stare back at you, it steals a part of you.
Like they’re taking it away with them.
Miranda took her piece from me over ten years ago. And my father stole his ten years before that. At ten years old, I didn’t understand it at the time. Had I known what my father was doing to me, I would’ve stopped him. I would’ve snatched it back from the fucker. He’d taken too much from me already.
I blink away the image of Miranda lying naked on her bed, of my father on the sofa, and focus on my destination.
My truck.
I couldn’t help Miranda, and I can’t help the girl inside the house.
Again, I was too late.
As far as my father goes, may he forever burn in hell.
When I get in my truck, my cell rings. I pull it out of my pocket.
It’s Brett.
“Yeah?”
“I talked to Willa. She’s going to take it from here. She’ll reach out to the cops and let them know she got a call from the girl at the Domestic Abuse Center and is worried about her. They’ll do a welfare check and send someone over. You’re good to go, bro.”
“Alright.”
“Cole, you okay?”
“It was bound to happen,” I reply, acknowledging the reality of my world. One that offers the opportunity for situations like this one.
“It’s fucked up, but there’s nothing you could’ve done. You gotta know that.”
“Yeah.”
“Come home. I’m here.” He pauses. “I’ve got you, bro.”
“Yeah.” I click off the cell, start my truck, and drive down the street, feeling the absence of the piece of me Emily took with her.
Chapter 2
“No!” I extend my arms out like an umpire signaling a runner is safe. But this guy is not safe! “Don’t touch that!”
The hot guy I was checking out earlier in the coffee line ignored my request.
A muscular tattooed arm stretches out as he reaches for my ticket. Experienced, sparkling gray eyes flash up at me.
Along with the sexiest and most dangerous of smiles. I’ve seen men like him before. I’ve learned to stay away.
He plucks my ticket between his fingers and stands.
“Shit,” I mumble under my breath.
Against my better judgment, my eyes gobble up his broad chest, tugging on a tight black T-shirt with some red logo.
“It’s no problem.” He holds my ticket up. “Take it,” he dares with a raspy, flirtatious tone.
“I can’t!” I clench and release my hands.
