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25
Addilyn
Ilay curled on my side, silence ringing in my ears. I stared at my bathroom door, my brain fuzzy and nose still stuffy from crying on and off all night.
My eyes ached, but at least the tears had eased up.
We’d gotten word the afternoon before that Gideon would probably be tried as an adult.
Devon lay in a coma, his brain swelled from Gideon’s fists.
All because of me.
Letting out a whimpered sigh, I rolled onto my back, rubbing my eyes. If I’d allowed Gideon to kiss me like I’d secretly wanted, the party wouldn’t have happened. The fight wouldn’t have happened.
Gideon would still be laying in his own bed, probably jerking off thinking about me.
I tilted my head to the side, and without giving it thought, I climbed out of my bed and shuffled into the bathroom. His door sat cracked open like he usually left it, and the truth of his absence on the other side squeezed my chest.
I pushed in his door and breathed in the scent of his soap, the masculinity that was all Gideon.
His bed sat unmade. Worn jeans on the floor beside his bureau. Blue T-shirt laying on the foot of his bed.
Swallowing against the ache in my throat, I moved forward and picked up his shirt. I held the cotton to my nose, filling my lungs with his scent—and my breath caught on a sob.
They say you don’t know what you have until it’s gone. Whoever they are, they had it so damn right.
My tormentor, my temptation, my protector.
Gone.
Even being hauled off in cuffs, he told me to stay away from Devon. Always looking out for me…
Wetness trickled down my cheek as I pulled his shirt over my camisole, the arms too long, the hem falling almost to my knees. Curled up on his bed, I rubbed my face against his pillow while crying yet more tears.
I couldn’t handle it. Didn’t know how to ease the dull pain radiating outward from my chest or how to stop the tears soaking his pillow.
Why had I lied? Going to Jenny’s, sneaking out…
All of this could’ve been avoided if I’d just stuck to the truth like Mother always said.
Lloyd was a master at calming her. If I’d asked him if I could attend the party, I bet he would have talked her into letting me go.
Shoulda, woulda, coulda.
And now, it’s too late.
A hearty sob escaped me, and I buried my face in soft flannel-covered feathers.
Lost in my pity party, the dip of the bed startled me. Mother would have chided rather than touched my hair. I let out a loud sob and threw myself into Lloyd’s arms.
He held me like Gideon had, and I could almost imagine Lloyd’s arms were my protector’s, his strength becoming mine.
“Shh,” he murmured, running his fingers through my ratted hair.
I clutched at his sleep shirt, wishing it was Gideon’s soap scent sucked into my lungs with every inhale. Still, I was thankful to have someone to offer me comfort.
“What the hell is this?”
