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Drug charges. Prison. Five years. Again.
It’s that last one that sends me headfirst into a panic attack.
Blade saidanother five years, as in Rideralreadyspent five years in prison? For drug charges? Something else? Somethingworse?
My breathing grows shallow, and for a moment, I think I might be sick to my stomach. Why didn’t he tell me? Was he going to keep this from me forever?
Another thought flashes through my mind. Maybe he didn’t tell me because he wasn’t planning on having me around long enough for it to matter.
Rider said I was his. He held me so tenderly after consuming me, body and soul. Was that all fake? It couldn’t be. Right?
God, I have no idea. I have nothing to compare this to. No past relationship or any kind of experience whatsoever. Was everything a lie?
I don’t even realize I’m crying until tears drip down my chin and tickle my neck before soaking my shirt collar. My throat swells and nearly closes, each breath painful as it saws in and out of my lungs.
I wrap my shaking hands around the steering wheel, gripping the smooth surface tighter and tighter until my fingers cramp and my knuckles pop. It’s still not enough. With no more tears left, I heave a dry sob, fearing I may crumble apart completely.
Ithurts.Everything hurts. The agony of Rider’s betrayal cuts me through and through until I’m flayed wide open.
I finally loosen my grip on the steering wheel and dig through my purse until I find my phone. With trembling hands, I look up the local women’s shelter and call, asking about a bed.
Fifteen minutes later, I’m checked in and curled up on my side in the last available bed for the night. Pulling the thin blanket over my shoulders, I block everything out and let sleep drag me under. Maybe then I’ll get some peace. When I wake up, I’ll have a plan. I just need to sleep…
“Hey,” comes a groggy female voice. “Wake up, girlie,” the person says, a little sharper this time. I must have fallen asleep, though I have no idea how long I’ve been out. “Your phone keeps ringing. Answer it or shut the damn thing off.”
Right on cue, my phone chirps with an incoming call. “Sorry,” I mumble as I grab it from my purse. Tessa’s name flashes across the screen, and I consider ignoring the call. One final ring, and I decide to answer. It’s time to tell my friend what’s been going on. It’s not like things can get much worse.
“Tessa,” I say once I’ve stepped out of the room with the other women staying here for the evening.
“Oh, my god, Sutton. Where are you? Some things went down at the club, and Rider and I went to find you at the house, but–”
“I know,” I whisper, my shoulders heavy with shame.
“What happened? There’s a giant sign out front saying the house is sold.”
“Yeah, I, uh–”
“Where have you been staying?”
“Um, I…” My voice cracks, and I lean against the wall to support myself. My knees give out, and I slide down the wall, curling up into a ball on the floor as tears overwhelm me once more.
“Oh, Sutton,” Tessa exclaims, her voice filled with worry. “Just tell me where you are. I’ll come to get you. Please, let me help.”
“I… I’m sorry,” I squeak.
“Sutton, I love you. I want to help. Please tell me where you are.”
“I’ve been staying with Rider, but I’m at the women’s shelter on Walter Road right now.”
I expect Tessa to ask about Rider and why I didn’t say anything about him, but she thanks me and says she’ll be here soon. Every limb feels like a lead weight, but I drag my weary bones and soul back into the room to gather my things, trying to figure out how to tell Tessa everything that’s happened the last few weeks.
CHAPTERTEN
RIDER
Ican’t fucking believe it.
I stare down at my hands, grimacing when I see ink stains on the tips of my thumbs from when they brought me in and booked me last night. Balling my hands into fists, I push off the hard metal bench in the holding cell and resume pacing from one wall to the other. It takes me all of four steps before I have to turn around again.
