Page 82 of Carnal Wagers

“So you snuck out?”

The sheets rustled against the bob of her head. “My father had been teaching me to drive since I turned twelve in case of emergencies, so I thought, eh, why not? I deserved to be able to go.”

“And you took his car.”

A choked sob whistled through her throat, and I dabbed the wet trails of tears around her nose with the sheets.

“We were halfway there with the music blaring, laughing at the stupidest things. Until we hit a pothole. The back tires skidded. The wheel locked, and my panic hit.”

I swept her hair off her face.

“I couldn’t get out of it. I couldn’t feel my hands moving the wheel or my foot pushing on the brakes. I couldn’t take in a full breath. All I could see were black dots all over. Lea was screaming for me to push on the pedal. Turn the wheel. Go. I didn’t even realize we were stopped in the middle of the road until a horn was blaring, and it was too late. This blinding flash of headlights came straight at us. Brakes squealed, and a car hit us.”

I nestled her back tighter against me. Normally, I avoided other people’s baggage, other than my brothers’, but Alice’s vulnerability held me captive. I wanted to soak in her pain, compare it to my own, and see which one won out. It was sick and demented, but where I was stalling, she functioned. She hoped. She hadn’t given up, and I needed to know how she fucking did it.

“I’ve got you. Let it out.”

“It still replays in slow motion in my head. The screams. The crackles and pops of glass. The crunches of metal. The rolls. The prick and slice of cuts. The snap of the seat belt against my chest. The punch of the airbag.” She smacked her face with brutal wipes of her tears. “We tumbled off the side of the road down a short hill. Every millisecond felt like minutes. Rolling and rolling until finally the car teetered to a stop. The first thing I saw was Lea’s eyes. They were so empty, and I knew right away. The other car never stopped to check on us, and by the time my family’s men found us, her body was cold. She died because of me. I killed her.”

“Aye, you did.”

She scoffed a whimper and weakly jabbed an elbow into my gut. “That’s a prick answer.”

“It won’t make you feel better if I lie to you. Just like you pretending her death is the source of your trauma doesn’t help.”

“What?” Outrage tinged her tone. Good, that was better than wallowing in despair.

“Exactly that. Your friend’s death’s not why you had a panic attack tonight.”

Our gazes locked. Hers searching, mine analyzing. A shared understanding spread between us, and she slowly exhaled.

“It’s not.”

“So why lie?”

She shifted around to face me. My arm wrapped around her middle and back.

“Because no one understands the real reason, but they accept the car accident.”

I tilted her chin up, putting the blood decorating her throat on display. It was a little stain against the perfection she flaunted.

“Give me the truth, or give me nothing at all.”

“Why?”

“For your tears. I want to see your pain.”

Her cracks were showing. They were splintering her bit by bit into a creature far more interesting than the woman starving for attention I’d first met.

“You won’t be able to use it against me, you know. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have told you.”

“I believe that.” She was too strong not to face her weaknesses head-on.

The tips of her fingers grazed over my chin. “Would you return the favor?”

A prickling unease wrapped around my throat and squeezed. “There’s nothing to find.”

“There you go again, closing yourself off.” She smoothed my brows out, the touch freezing me solid. “Hiding your pain doesn’t erase it. It’ll only make you more vulnerable to it.”