Page 66 of Fake Dark Vows
“I thought Kelly would understand.”
She lets out an exasperated sigh. “And did she?”
“By then, Damon had already gotten his claws into her.”
“Listen to yourself, Brandon.” Her words are beginning to slur. “You’d rather blame Damon than accept responsibility for your own actions.”
I down my brandy. Her words sting.
“One day, someone will hurt you, and then … then maybe you’ll understand.” She finishes her drink and tries to stand.
I’m on my feet and I catch her before she topples sideways. “Come on, time to leave.”
She shoves my chest with both hands. “I’m not leaving until I’ve seen Elvis.”
“Elvis is dead, Rose.”
“Not that Elvis. Elvis in the white suit.” She starts weaving her way towards the exit and stumbles into the back of a chair.
I apologize to the man she almost landed on top of and link my arm around hers.
Outside, the air hits her immediately. She spots the engagement ring on her finger and stops, swaying unsteadily, to stare at it. “Let’s find Elvis and … and get married.”
“You’re drunk, Rose. We should go back to the room and get you some water.”
“I don’t want water.” She stumbles away from me, backwards, the heel of her shoe connecting with the base of a golden statue. “I want to get married.” Tears trickle down her face and puddle on her collarbone.
“I know.”
She jabs a finger at my chest. “But you’re afraid of commitment.”
“Rose.”
“You’re a coward, Brandon Weiss.”
“Okay,” I say, taking control and gripping her wrists tightly. “That’s enough. Let’s get you sobered up before we both say something we’ll regret.”
“Coward.” Her lips brush mine as she hisses the word. “Coward. Coward. Coward.” Forgetting that I’m still holding her, she goes to walk away and jerks back against my chest.
“People are watching, Rose. Walk with me, and we’ll get you a bottle of water.”
“Let me go.” Her voice is cold, and I release her wrists, guilt flooding my chest when I see the raised pink marks on her flesh. “I’m going to find Elvis … with or without you.”
She stumbles a few steps, stops to remove her shoes, and tosses them aside. I pick them up and fall into step beside her.
CHAPTER 22
Rose
Something has happened to my brain overnight. It has turned into Jell-O. If I move, I’m scared that it will start oozing from my ears and nostrils and leave behind an empty skull that pathologists will scratch their heads over in the days to follow.
I crack open an eye and quickly close it again. Sunshine. Too bright. My tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth like the Jell-O thing happened while I was crossing the Sahara Desert.
Okay. I force myself to breathe, in through my nose, out through my mouth. I recall the mindfulness practice of focusing on my body, starting with my toes and working my way up. What can I feel? Silk sheets, firm mattress. Where’s my other foot? I’ve lost my foot! I send an instruction from my liquid brain to the tips of my toes and realize that one foot is on the floor.
What the hell?
With some difficulty, I drag it back onto the bed and waves of nausea crash through me. I roll onto my side, retching, praying that nothing will come out. My brain is back, and someone has taken a hammer to it. Thump, thump, thump.