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I stayed home from school, unable to stomach being in hallways filled with people who knew what had happened after Gideon had dragged me away from Devon’s house. Darkness hung like a thick, swirling cloud over my head, and every other minute of the day, I wondered what my stepbrother was doing. How he was doing.
Did he understand my need to be honest?
Did he hate me for it?
On the tenth day after his sentencing while running through the words I’d spoken while on the witness stand for at least the hundredth time, I realized with vivid clarity that I had done the same thing to him that Jenny had done to me. I’d betrayed him, his trust.
He must hate me.
Not knowing his emotions ate at my stomach like acid, burning a hole in my gut, but I deserved the pain. I couldn’t keep food down, couldn’t sleep. My sulking made home life ten times worse, sending Mother into fits of shrieking because she couldn’t ‘handle me and my whorish bitchiness.’
She obviously didn’t consider the fact I was like her in every way—looks, temperament, and emotional reactions.
I hated myself. Hated her even more with every passing day and twice as much after she refused to let me visit Gideon in jail so like Jenny, I could beg forgiveness I didn’t deserve—and didn’t expect to receive.
Lloyd ended up caught in the middle of our daily arguments, the only time I could unleash the slew of shit inside me, and I took solace in his hugs after he coddled Mother into silence and sent her off to bed.
She headed to the spa for a much-needed afternoon of rest and relaxation on what seemed like day five-hundred and sixty-seven of my life in hell, and I breathed easier in my room, attempting to get caught up on schoolwork.
Lloyd had gone to the school board and principal, asking for help for the remainder of my sophomore year. Considering the situation, they agreed to let me learn remotely, along with weekly meetings with two tutors I’d be stuck with until the end of the school year.
At least they were substitute teachers and not other students.
A soft knock sounded on my door, one I recognized from his daily check-ins.
“You can come in,” I called to Lloyd while typing up one last answer for the social studies lesson I’d been assigned.
He moved to stand behind me, his hands on my shoulders like he’d done the day before. His light hold made me feel grounded. Steady. A touch I could trust. “How’s it going?” he asked.
“Good.” I finished the sentence and hit the submit button. “Just completed my last assignment of the day.”
He squeezed gently, kneading at muscles that always went tense after hours in front of the computer, and I melted beneath his hands. “Your mother isn’t at a spa.”
I straightened and spun my chair to face him, his hands falling away from me. “Where is she?”
“She finally agreed to see a therapist.”
Letting out a heavy exhale, I relaxed again and muttered, “Thank God.”
“But she’s going to the spa afterward. That gives us a few hours of silence.”
So, she had finally started to get on his nerves too. I huffed a snort while pulling my hair up, glad for said silence. “Hopefully the therapist can get her on some meds to help her chill.”
Lloyd reached out and grasped my wrist, stopping my attempts to tame my long locks into a messy bun. “Keep it down.”
I peered up at him, a weird twinge radiating through my belly. The kind that made a kid ask for a nightlight—the same feeling I had when I first met him all those months ago. “Huh?”
“Your hair.” He removed my hands from the twisted knot atop my head and ran his fingers through my long hair, bringing it back over my shoulders. My arms sank down, palms on my lap, limp.
“What are you doing?” Tone wary, I peered up at him, wondering at the strange way he looked at my hair…my mouth.
Grasping my chin in his palm, he tilted my head up, his thumb brushing along my lower lip.
My scalp prickled.
“Lloyd.” I tried to pull from his hold, but he tightened his fingers along my jaw, keeping me in place.
Chills raced through me, raising the hairs on the nape of my neck.
