Page 35 of Sticks and Stones (Shadow Valley U)
It’s a lie, but he won’t know the difference.
“Fine, I’ll come to you.”
My chest hurts, and my mouth goes dry. The beaker in front of me is beginning to boil, and if I don’t focus, I’ll fuck it all up, and I’m not sure what’s worse—a punishment from my father if I waste product, or a touch from Gus.
“Don’t touch me,” I warn. I try to recall what I’ve already mixed, but I can’t focus.
“Why not?”
“Because you’ll distract me, and I’m trying to get this right.”
“I’ll distract you?” His breath is gross and warm and mixes right in with the sweat on my neck. “Like this?”
His sloppy lips touch my skin, and my eyes grow blurry.
“Please don’t touch me.”
I choke on fear from the slippery feel of his tongue, and the room grows black.Shit, shit, shit. Focus, Wren.
“Stop, please.”
I’m crying, and suddenly, I’m not in my father’s trailer. Instead, I’m in a jail cell, and my father is on the other side, smiling at me.
“Do it, Gus. She deserves to be punished.”
A gaspof air surges up my throat, and although I don’t see Gus or my father in front of me, I’m still brimming with fear and clawing to get away.
CHAPTER14
STONE
There’ssomething in me that just can’t leave it alone.
I pace my room, which feels like all the air has been sucked out of it. I can’t tell if it’s because of what Evan revealed or simply because it’s empty.
My gaze drops to the corner where Wren had made her little nest the first night. The blankets and pillows are gone, her nest relocated to under the fucking stairs. Ihatethat she’s down there. I hate that she’s still in this fucking house, but I hate more that she left this room and abandoned me to my own thoughts.
Because I’m battling guilt, too. Over posting that photo, of alerting her apparently psychotic drug-dealing father to her whereabouts, to potentially bringing back nightmares.
Evan didn’t say that, per se. He came pretty damn close, though. Hedidinsinuate that I was the current bane of his existence for hurting Wren. Which is…fair. I’d be more worried about that if I didn’t know he’ll get over it in a day or two. Life will go on.
Besides, it’s not like Wren’s dad is going to hurt her from behind bars. He’s a dangerous guy—surely there’s due process for shit like that. The prison is supposed to monitor contact. So while he can call her, there’s a simple solution: block the number and move on.
My mind keeps drifting back to Wren, though. Stupid fucking Wren with her soft, dark hair and big hazel eyes. Her tiny body wrapped up in my arms, not anyone else’s.
Wait.
No, she’s never been in my arms. It doesn’t even count when I ripped her away from Archer or when she crashed into my chest after I snuck up on her. And the way she brushed against me in the doorway, as she ran for her new little safe haven, has put permanent goosebumps on my arms.
Fuck Wren Davis.
My anger, an uncontainable restlessness, drives me back out my bedroom door and down the stairs.
Evan is long gone. The rest of the guys are asleep.
The house is so silent, my footsteps sound loud to my ears. I go to the kitchen and open the fridge door, scanning the shelves. While I’d love to guzzle a beer and pray for it to put me to sleep, I opt for a bottle of water.
It’s the safer choice, seeing as how we’re moving to a two-a-day practice schedule.