Roman-1(Lane Brothers, Book 5)(99)
“Okay. But not yet. I need to find a way to call her without Beau finding out.”
Paranoid, but totally necessary. If any of them get even a whiff of where I am…I can’t risk it yet.
“I understand, but this is gonna have to end soon, Sis. Vern keeps pestering me, and if Blake gets any worse I’m afraid he’ll kill me with his bare hands.”
A half hour later I’m still standing at the sink, my eyes staring into space as I fight to clear my head of all thought. Some days I operate on autopilot, and others it’s a struggle just to stop the voices from spilling out and taking control.
Eventually I have to go home, I know it, but for now I need this time. Grabbing the bottle of booze Nic’s mom sent, I wander into my sparsely furnished bedroom and flop onto the bed.
It tastes like battery acid going down, and by the time I’ve had three healthy swallows I’m more than tipsy and feeling just happy enough to fall asleep with a smile on my face.
***
“You meant nothing to me.”
As I look at his face and feel myself cramping up with pain and humiliated adoration, I know full well that this is a dream. Even as the thought solidifies I cry out in horror and anguish, my heart breaking as he’s surrounded by a crowd of beautiful women, his mouth curved in an arrogant twist of satisfaction and scorn.
“No!”
“Yes. You were always just a means to an end. How could I love you?”
“No!”
I wake with a start and sit upright, panting heavily as tears stream down my cheeks to land on the twisted sheets, tangled around me. It’s always this way. I have these dreams, dreams in which I’m forced to watch him take other women, and no matter how hard I try I can’t get myself to revile him before I wake in a cold sweat, crying and unsettled.
“You’re pathetic, Sissy. How long is it gonna take for you to let go?”
Always the same dream, and always the same question, and, as with every other, I have no answer to defend myself with, even if it’s just against myself.
You’d assume that three months’ worth of pep talks and internal confidence building would have done something to help me, but the truth is, the longer I stay away, the worse I feel.
Sure, I’m no longer a useless lump of tears and tissues, but inside, that’s where I’m broken.
Shaking off the dream and the heaviness I feel, I throw back the sheets and pad to the window, pulling back the curtains to see the very edges of dawn peeking over the horizon.
The clock blares its red numbers at me and I hop with a squeal, racing to the bathroom. It’s not yet fully dawn, but if I don’t hustle I’ll be late for work and Vi will have my ass.
Forty minutes and a lot of coffee later I pull into the employee parking lot and bolt out of the car, making it to the door just as Nic opens it.
His knowing grin makes me scowl, and I throw him a good natured glare.
“I don’t know if your mom’s a cyborg or has free liver transplants every year, but that shit was potent.”
“Told you it’d knock you on your ass, Lil. At least you got some sleep. You look better. Did you finish that burger?” he asks, keeping his gaze on me through the order window as we both tie our aprons and get ready for the breakfast run.
“Most.”
Okay, so maybe lying isn’t nice, especially to a guy who’s been so good to me, but I don’t need a lecture right now, not with the remnants of that sucky ass dream still dogging me.
“At least eat a bacon roll before you start your shift.”
He doesn’t give me a chance to argue, and by the time I turn back from prepping the coffee pots I’m assaulted by the rich, greasy aroma of a butter bacon roll.
Yuuumm.
By twelve I feel like a freight train has done laps over my entire body, and I turn to glare at Nic. Belated hangover. Shit.
“Stay hydrated, Lil, and the headache’ll go away real quick. Oh, and here’s table four’s extra side of fries.”
I want to flip him off and tell him what an unholy crone his mother is if she can drink this shit on the regular without dying, but I refrain and grab the fries, turning with a huff, only to come to a screeching halt mid-turn.
Every ounce of blood in my body drains to my toes, making me lightheaded—no, that’s not true, I’m woozy from lack of oxygen when I realize I’ve stopped breathing altogether.
“Hello, dove.”
Chapter Twenty Nine
Nothing comes out of my mouth, not a single syllable or breath, as I stand frozen to the spot, my every hope and dream shattering and reforming in that one instant.
I feel everything recede but that handsome face and the slight quirk that lines his sensual mouth. For a split second I pray that the shit Nic’s mom hooked me up with has some sort of psychotropic drug…anything to explain—I’d rather be tripping on drugs than for this to be real.