AllFreeNovel
Share Us
And then, as Melendez asked me another question I could hardly hear above the cacophony of noise in my head, I realized what else that meant. Everyone else had a target on their back, too. Declan’s injury was only the beginning, a sign for what was to come. Ray had gotten free on a technicality, and he’d found me, stalked me, saw that I was surrounded by a group of guys, and came up with the perfect way to make me never be with any of them.
Hurt them. Kill them. I was Ray’s in the end, no matter what.
I stared at my hands, hating that I knew what I had to do in order to keep them all safe.
There was no fighting back against Ray. No winning here. Even if these guys banded together and tried to protect me from him, it didn’t matter. Ray would always be the victor, because he was willing to do anything to stand triumphant. He would kill to keep me to himself; I’d learned that already.
I had to push these guys away, and I had to mean it.
No more friendship. No more awkward positions or strange, random make-out sessions. No more flirting and no more batting of the eyelashes. All that sexual tension? Forget about it. I had to be the world’s biggest bitch to them, otherwise Ray would keep going after them, keep hurting them. Eventually he’d kill them.
What happened to Declan, what happened to Will—only warning signs of what would come if I kept caring for them. Travis, I knew, could probably take care of himself, but Ray’s cruelty was unmatchable. I doubted even Travis could beat him on that front, even if Travis was a little unstable. And Sawyer? The fuckup was too much of a, well, a fuckup to be able to put up a real fight. He might have the muscle, but if Ray came to him when he was drunk, it would be over.
As much as I’d told myself I cared for these boys in different ways, I’d have to forget about those feelings.
Apathy. I had to practice being apathetic toward them. It was going to be the hardest thing I’d ever had to do in my life, including what I did that day.
Chapter Seven – Ash
I answered the rest of the questions Melendez and White had about Will and what happened to him, and then everything they had ready to go for me. What exactly happened, how it happened, what type of car it was, what color it was, if the driver was a man or a woman, age, race, all that shit. The problem with the questions regarding my hit and run, however, was that I did not see the car, nor did I see the driver. Everything had happened so fast, and I’d been so out of it, practically overcoming a panic attack, that I didn’t notice.
I didn’t notice who tried to hit me.
Was it Ray? He’d hurt Will and Declan, so why not me?
No. No, I didn’t think Ray hit me with a car. Ray wouldn’t hurt me physically. He’d go for the mind games, the kind of hurt that made your very soul ache in agony. He went for the mental torture, playing tricks on you until you fell for whatever it was he was selling. I was ninety-nine percent sure it was someone else, but who?
Who the hell hated me enough to hit me with a fucking car?
I didn’t know, so the two officers left after asking their rounds of questions and receiving hardly any answers back. Unhelpful was my middle name right now, I guess. Helping them catch who hurt Will should’ve been my priority, but when it came to Ray…I guess that man had me more fucked up than I thought.
Melendez and White left, and I was alone, lost in my thoughts for a while. At least until an older gentleman strolled in the room, wearing a hastily put-together suit and his brown hair just a bit rumpled. His goatee looked like it needed a shave; he looked exhausted, which I couldn’t blame, considering everything.
Dean Briggs. Felt like forever since I’d seen him. It was strange, seeing him in this hospital room, me laying on a hospital bed, practically helpless.
I watched him sit in the chair beside the bed, giving me a gentle smile. It was reminiscent of Declan’s, which made my stomach twist. Declan. How the hell was I supposed to put distance between us? He was Declan. Being mean to him…just didn’t seem right, not after everything he’d been through, not after everything we’d gone through together.
He ran a hand down his face before asking me the question of the day: “How are you feeling?” Seriously, everyone and their brother was asking me that damned question. If I never heard those four words strung together again in my entire life, it’d still be too soon.
“Great,” I lied. “I’m ready to go home.”
“Your mother—”
I did my best not to outright glare, but it was hard. “I’m an adult. You don’t need to call my mom, Dean Briggs.”
He looked at me with tired, weary eyes. Eyes that could practically peer inside of me and see my soul. “Your mother should be told about what happened, Miss Bonds.” Miss Bonds. So formal. I honestly hated it.
“I said no,” I repeated, to which Dean Briggs just appeared resigned. “Have you visited Will?” Turn the tables on him, get the attention off me.
“He’s recovering from his surgery,” Dean Briggs answered, glancing to the door, finding that Declan stood nearby, wanting to come in, hovering. He gestured for his son to come in as he got to his feet. “I was just about to check on him again when I heard that you were awake.”
“Don’t worry about me,” I told him. “I’m fine. Will’s the one you should be hovering over, not me.” I gave Dean Briggs my best—and hopefully most believable—smile, saying nothing else as he exited the room.
Declan took his place, sitting in the same chair.
Declan looked like shit, but I didn’t care. He was Declan. He was cute no matter how tired he looked or how greasy his hair was. His brown locks messily hung to the side, a shadow of dark stubble growing on his jaw—something so unlike him. His clothes were crinkled from sitting in the waiting area for so long. His dark eyes were on me, and I squirmed in the hospital bed, my gaze dropping to my lap, to the white sheet resting on top of me.
How the hell was I supposed to push him away? I didn’t want to. I wanted to be selfish. I wanted to be everything I normally wasn’t. I…I wanted to be someone else, because someone else wouldn’t be here, having the problems I did, the past I did. Being someone else would make everything so much easier and simpler.
