Page 20 of Irresistibly Wicked

Too tired to yell, she went to talk to him. “Brian, where’s the TV?” she asked as she pushed the door open. The room was a wreck, the curtains closed, and Brian was bent over the nightstand snorting something. Her restraint snapped, and all the pent-up anger and frustration from the last few months came roaring out. “What the hell are you doing?”

He bolted upright and charged toward her, wild-eyed. “Get the fuck outta here!”

“No. I’m paying the fucking rent.” She stood her ground, the sight of the brown powder—heroin—on the mirror making her even more furious. “You can’t do that shit here!”

“The hell I can’t,” he seethed.

“You don’t get to make the rules when you’re living off my money. Where’d you get the money for the drugs?”

“Leave me the fuck alone.” He turned away, his movements jerky.

The answer hit her like a brick. “Where’s the TV, Brian?”

“I don’t fucking know. Maybe someone stole it.”

“I’m not stupid,” she fumed. “You sold it to buy heroin, didn’t you?”

“No.”

“Yeah, right. I’m such an idiot. I kept telling myself you weren’t that bad. That I could help you.”

“Don’t you get it? I don’t want your fucking help!”

He spun around, his teeth clenched like a rabid animal, and grabbed her upper arms so tight, her knees buckled. He shoved her backward. Her back slammed into a picture hanging on the wall, the corner of the frame digging into her back. The impact knocked the wind from her lungs…and the ghosts of her past from their tethers. Images of her father hitting her mother flew at her, fueling her with fierce, unwavering strength. The picture crashed to the floor as she grabbed Brian by his shirt, yanking him down as her knee flew up, connecting with his gut. He cried out, and she threw him backward, sending him to his ass on the floor.

She stood over him, shaking with anger and so much heartbreak at what her friend had become, it hurt more than the physical attack did. “Don’t you ever put your hands on me again, or I swear I’ll kill you.”

He scrambled to his feet, a flicker of regret warring with the rage in his eyes. “I’m sorry—”

“Don’t. I’m done watching you kill yourself. I can’t even look at you right now. Get the fuck out of here.” She stormed out of his room, heading for hers.

He ran after her. “Shauna, wait. I’m sor—”

His words were cut off as she slammed and locked her bedroom door. Shaking and gasping for breath, she lowered herself to the edge of the bed, giving in to the tears she’d been holding back for weeks.

Chapter Nine

HOURS PASSED WITH battering waves of anger, confusion, hurt, and a modicum of relief, though that was the one that hurt the most. Shauna was exhausted. Even after she’d heard Brian leave the house, she was too on edge to close her eyes. She didn’t know if he’d come back even angrier or promising to get help. Either way she needed to be ready.

She couldn’t fool herself anymore. She had to do something, but she didn’t have any reasonable options. By late afternoon she was emotionally and physically depleted, and her back hurt. She felt like a zombie. Hoping a shower would clear her head, she locked the front door and headed for the bathroom. She hesitated in front of Brian’s room, the chaotic state of it a mirror of what he’d become. The picture of them they’d taken this time last year lay on the floor among shattered glass and the broken frame, breaking her heart anew.

When she finally stepped beneath the shower spray, she tilted her face up, letting the water rain down over her. Memories tiptoed in. Hitchhiking out of town with Brian the night they’d left home, getting high on the side of the highway. Climbing into cars with strangers. At the time she’d told herself they were brave, and they had been to have gotten away from their parents, but they were also so damn young, and what they’d done was dangerously stupid.

As she washed her hair, she thought about the days after Brian had nearly died from an overdose. They’d both been so scared. But they’d been there for each other on their journey to sobriety, cheering each other on and dragging each other to meetings. They’d come so far. How had she let so much time go by without figuring something out so it wouldn’t come to this?

She’d been to enough meetings to know better than to take the blame for his addiction, but that didn’t make it any easier to face their current situation.

Fresh tears rolled down her cheeks. She told herself to get all her crying done now, because there was no way she’d let Brian see that weakness. Part of her hoped he wouldn’t come back until he miraculously found a way to get out from under the drugs, but that thought brought a deluge of guilt.

She fought that guilt, and instead of shedding the rest of her tears, she did what she knew was best and forced herself to regain control. She was reaching for a towel when she heard a knock at the front door. Her stomach clenched. Brian had a key, but with the way things were going, he probably lost it. She wrapped the towel around herself and went to answer the door.

She peered out the sidelight window as she reached for the doorknob, and her heart nearly stopped. It wasn’t Brian.

It was Zander.

He flashed her a cocky grin, sending her heart into a tailspin. Shitshitshit. She leaned out of his view, hiding behind the door. Why was he here? She looked down at her towel and cringed. She couldn’t pretend she hadn’t seen him.

What kind of crazy test of sanity is this?