Page 6 of Wicked Promises
She jerked her head in a nod.
My stomach pitched. I swallowed hard. If I threw up, it would only make things worse—but Uncle David had a mean streak worse than Dad’s.
She wanted to leave me there with him?
“You’re coming, too, right?” I leaned forward. “Mom?”
She met my eyes in the rearview mirror. “There are some things I need to take care of, Caleb. I need to find someone to get the blood out of the carpet, for one. The sooner we can sell that godforsaken house, the better off we’ll be.”
White-hot fear flashed through me.
“You can’t sell it! Margo?—”
“Donotspeak her name.” Mom slammed on the brakes, jerking the car to the side of the road. She twisted around and pinched my chin. Her long nails dug into my skin. “She’s dead to us. Okay, honey? I need you to understand. That vile girl will not be a problem anymore. After what she’s done to this family…”
“Just like Dad?”
Mom stared at me for a moment. There was a softness in her expression, but now it was gone. “Didn’t you ever love him? Do you not get it? He isn’t coming back. This isn’t a dream you can wake up from, Caleb. Things won’t go back to how they were. And I sure as hell willnottrap myself in Rose Hill while the rest of the world keeps turning.”
I did love him, but he screamed. Threw things. Instilled terror into us.
Us. Like Margo was sitting beside me.
Mom released her grip on me and turned back around. She breathed deeply, while I shook in my seat. I understood what Mom was saying. In Rose Hill, bad things happened. She wanted a new chance at life.
But I didn’t. I wanted things back to normal.
She started the car again, pulled back out onto the quiet road.
I rubbed the bracelet on my wrist absently. I should’ve removed it and thrown it away, but the hate Mom kept insisting on wasn’t there. It wasn’t Margo’s fault. It was herdad’sfault.
“Silly boy,” Mom said, more to herself than me. “You think she didn’t have a hand in this?”
Had I spoken out loud?
“You’ll learn. You can’t trust a Wolfe.”
Chapter 2
Margo
Some people come back from unconsciousness slowly, one sense at a time. Hearing, smell, taste. Drifting out of a slumber-like state peacefully.
Not me.
I rush into awareness like I’m bursting from underwater, gasping for air.
And the next thing to hit me?
Memories.
They burn through my mind, one after another, a flipbook of information.
It hurts. I cry out as I relive it.
Someone grabs my arm, threading their fingers through mine. They squeeze my hand, but I’m inconsolable. The truth is blinding, but I finally have answers.
I remember.