AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I’m way past tired of people blaming me for their problems. It’s getting old fast. I don’t think I’ve ever spoken five words to Brian. Shit, outside Jameson’s class, I never saw him, and now his douchey younger brother is trying to intimidate Jamie. “Why does he believe I’m responsible for that?” I wait to hear whatever poor excuse he gave her.
She rolls her eyes and responds, “It has something to do with the Selection. Supposedly, you ruined everything. Our whole family did when we moved here.”
“Me?” I ask, scrunching my face in confusion. “How the hell did he arrive at that conclusion?”
She shrugs. “Killian just keeps saying that his mom was always crying, and his father was always stomping around the house livid, blaming Brian for being a traitor.”
None of this makes any sense. What the fuck does Brian’s behavior and sudden disappearance have to do with me? Massaging my temples, I try to tamp down my annoyance. A task that grows harder each day I’m back in this town. “How’d this lead to him bothering you?”
“Well, he calls himself teaching my whore of a sister,” Jamie mutters.
The tops of my ears burn red in loathing. If Brian isn’t truly missing, he will be once I get my hands on him. “The jerk thought I was easy prey, cornering me in a hallway after gym on Friday. So, I kicked him in the dick.”
Spluttering, I cough to clear the spit that flies down my throat and cackle. “Jams,” I scold, but it falls flat. It’s hard to take your older sister seriously while she’s holding her side, laughing as she puts her hand up for a high-five.
I know this isn’t the reaction I should have, but I have time to work on that. Plus, I’d argue that she was in her right to defend herself. None of my siblings will take anyone’s shit.
Jamie’s palm and mine connect, and I hug her. We spend the remainder of the night talking and watching television. I make a mental note to ask the guys if Brian’s missing and why I would be responsible for any of it.
57
ARIAH
Rubbing my bleary eyes, I internally curse myself for staying up so late to read Wes’s journal.
After Jamie left my room and went to bed last night, I immediately snatched it off my nightstand, hoping to find more answers within its pages.
Standing, I stretch, then rush to use the bathroom. I’m unsure which twin is doing the cha-cha slide on my bladder this morning, but their message has been heard loud and clear.
I flush the toilet, wash my hands, and brush my teeth. Owen’s coming over this morning to talk.
Shutting my eyes, I breathe, remembering the text I sent him after I read he was found. It’s one of the shortest entries so far, immediately setting off alarm bells. I read entry after entry until my eyes refused to remain open. There was no mention of the condition Owen arrived home in. Until then, Wes made it a point to share so much detail. The absence of it made it nearly impossible to sleep. Hence the dark circles staring back at me as I stand in front of the mirror in my closet.
“Angel,” I hear Owen call from inside my bedroom, pulling me from my trance. I throw my hair in a messy bun and head out to meet him.
“Owen,” I whisper, scanning him for any obvious scarring. I find none, but remember that he didn’t play in the homecoming game.
My cheeks heat. The memory of his face between my legs, in the bathroom of the football stadium, vividly plays in my mind.
He smiles, a knowing grin painting his face. “I know, Angel,” Owen groans, closing the distance between us. “I know,” he repeats, cupping my face.
I find myself leaning into his hand, basking in the warmth of his touch as I peer up into his hazel eyes. “They took you,” I whimper as his thumb brushes my jaw, wiping away tears I didn’t realize were falling.
“But they couldn’t keep me. I’m okay, Angel. The important part is that you’re safe, and now we have you back.”
I choke back a sob, hating his answer. “It matters,” I shout, pulling from his embrace and pushing him. But the asshole doesn’t even budge. Instead, he tilts his head and smirks, pissing me off even more. I want to shake the shit out of him. Why is he always so dismissive of his safety? I scream in frustration, pounding my fists against his chest. “They fucking took you, and no one thought I needed to know. And here you stand, grinning like a cat who caught a canary.”
The smile melts from his face. “They were only trying to?—”
“Keep me safe,” I seethe, finishing the regurgitated statement I was long past tired of hearing. “Fuck all of you and your goddamn need to keep me safe. It’s bullshit, and you know it.”
Dropping my arms, I step back, knowing I need space to calm down. Owen reaches for me, but I back away. Because fuck him and fuck them. Actually, fuck every person who thinks I’m incapable of making decisions for myself.
“Why doesn’t anyone comprehend that I should be included in any conversation pertaining to my safety? Do you honestly believe I would put myself at risk?” I rasp, my face twisting in anguish. I’m no longer angry or annoyed. Hurt and disappointment unfurl in my chest like a poisonous gas, suffocating me slowly, making me question everything. “Do none of you trust me? Is that it?”
Owen’s eyes widen. “Of course, Angel—with our lives,” he declares, clasping my hand before I can step out of his reach and pressing it against the spot where my initial is carved. “If anyone feels your rage at having their choice taken from them, it’s all of us. Wes being forced to make the split decision to let you go or save me set off a domino effect of forced decisions we’re still trying to fix.”
I freeze, my eyes close, picturing the journal entry before blinking back open. Wes’s words were coated in fury, resignation, and hope. “He chose right,” I exclaim, making Owen frown.
