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“Yep.”
“Shit, it’s a few hours’ drive. Do you think he would have taken her there?” He brings up the map of Scott’s land—an old dump site.
“Yes, he would have, for sure.”
“If he is still alive when we get there, can I shoot first?” Lucas asks. “I’ve wanted to shoot something all week.”
“Sure, but I’m fucking killing him.”
TWENTY-NINE
ADORA
The loud ringing sound of a fired gun echoes through your ears and silences your surroundings. At least ringing is what I always though it sounded like. When he pulls the trigger, that’s all I hear. My eyes go wide and lock on his.
The fucked-up part is that I can see the pain on his face as he’s thinking about it, right up to the moment he puts his finger on the trigger.
Scott doesn’t want to kill me—not like he did my mother.
She didn’t run off because she hated me, as I always believed. Instead, she was taken from me by this monster who claims he loved her.Who claims he loves me.
What things we tell ourselves to get through.
But how was I meant to know any better?
My father didn’t even know, and he was considered a smart man.
Scott was hoping I would give in, that I would be his. That, by some miracle, I would accept him as if I wasn’t worthy of anything else. When I know for a fact, I am. I discovered that by myself and with the help of Joey. The thought of him puts a smile on my face.
I’m glad to have met him, despite my bitchiness and hesitation at the beginning.
I truly love him, yet I fought it at every turn.
I think my heart always knew.
The rest of me just took longer to catch up.
But the funny part is, I will always choose my son. I could survive a broken heart from losing Joey, no matter how much I love him, but the pain of not having Jerome near me would destroy me.
A pain I would never heal from.
I find it funny whenever I think like that because I never wanted children. Yet I would give my last breath for Jerome and every one of my heartbeats.
It makes me sad that Scott thinks I would have been his. That anyone in this situation would choose to be his. I always knew Scott had issues—most men in this life do. They aren’t raised playing in backyards or doing fun school things. They are raised with violence. Pain. Destruction.
This brings me back to Joey.
He isn’t innocent. I know this. He is anything but.
But he also isn’t like Scott.
Joey gets that I am a bitch and I’m proud of it. Especially considering all my childhood, I was made to feel small and helpless. I needed to stand on my own feet, and I’m glad I finally did.
My hands clench into fists, and I wonder what I will see, how much it will hurt. But when the ringing fades away, I open my eyes to see Scott, his mouth open in shock and his midriff leaking blood. His gun now lying on the ground at his feet.
I’m not dying today.
He looks at me with broken eyes. A part of me wants to feel sorry for him, while another part wants him dead. He coughs up blood as I pick up the gun and raise it to aim at his heart.
