AllFreeNovel
Share Us
"You don't know shit about me," he growls through clenched teeth. "Are we done?"
"I find it funny the one night you're not stalking River through the bar is the same night she gets laid out and almost taken advantage of. Or is that just a coincidence?" I raise a brow when he pales, unable to keep his shame off his face, but quickly hides it behind his rolling eyes and twisting lips. "I'm sure the cops would love to hear the tidbit about you organizing the entire thing so you could feel like some sort of disgusting hero," I huff, feeling revulsion slither through my veins like a thick sludge weighing me down, hoping what I’m saying isn’t true. But the fact is Van’s a slimy piece of shit who is desperate enough to pull something as disgusting as this off.
"You… What the hell do you want?" he asks, swallowing his nerves without refuting my claims against him. My damn heart sinks at the realization of what he’s done, but I shake it off and push forward with my stupid plan, even when my stomach rolls and vomit creeps up my throat.
"A little birdy told me you have some videos. Videos, I don't want to know how you obtained pictures. You. River. I need them." My eyes burn into him as he wilts under the pressure and slumps.
"Why?"
"I should ask the same. Does River know you filmed your sex life with her?" I seal my lips shut, holding back the vomit threatening to break through. If there's one thing in my life I'll regret forever, it's this. I am stooping so damn low to obtain the ultimate dream that I’m disgusted at my actions. "Send them to me, and all will be forgotten. By next week, we'll be forgotten. River will run to you, and all will be normal."
We sit silently for another moment, and Van nods, getting his phone out. "Sure," he says, scanning through his phone, clicking a few pictures, and then hitting send. "What're you using them for?" he asks when my phone vibrates, but I refuse to look at the multiple videos and photos he sent.
"Be available tomorrow," I say, narrowing my eyes at him. "Your girl might need some dinner at her place to make her feel better." Every word I speak feels like ash on my tongue, turning bitter and chalky.
I fucking hate myself.
"Sure," he mumbles, getting out of the car with crinkled brows. He doesn't look back at me when he goes inside, and I don't look at him.
This is a means to an end. A way to live our dream, and that's it.
A plan formulates in my mind as I drive back to Callum's, and we regroup, coming up with a solid idea on how to get us the fuck out of here and keep River here. Now all I have to do is break my best friends’ hearts.
Numbnessfillseverymoleculein my body. The past day's events play like a movie that happened to someone else. Not me. Never me. There's no way I went from the best fucking vacation to this dismal existence bathed in loneliness.
Emptiness surrounds me—a nothingness sinking deep into my bones. The world around me keeps moving and has been for the past two days, leaving me here, in the home I once shared with my mother. She’s the same woman who suffered while I was away, having the time of my life and insisting to the neighbor that she was okay—insisting to her nurse that she didn't need her on those days and let her have a few days off. Why did my mom do this? Why would she leave me when I needed her in my life? Things were going to look up for us in the future. So, why did she leave me now?
Sitting on the edge of my bed, I stare out into the dark abyss. Shadows dance along the sliding glass door, but no one enters through hellbent on getting me out of bed. Their voices play in the back of my mind like ghosts whispering in my ear, trying to pry me out of bed. But I’m a frozen mass, unable to motivate myself. It's been like this for days. Me, myself, and I—planning a funeral. Something I never thought I’d have to do. I mean, who the fuck does that? Who plans a funeral for their mother at nineteen? Fuck. Why? Why did this happen?
Why did she leave me?
Of course, my neighbors, Odette, Leon, and Korrine, stopped by and ensured I was okay by feeding me dinner and keeping me company—until I shooed them away. But the boys? It's like the moment I told them to leave me alone in the ER, they listened. Half of me is pissed off and conflicted because I wanted the solitude to process the immeasurable amount of grief pressing down on me. The other half wants them by my side, hugging me and telling me everything will be okay. I’ll be okay, right? Everything will work out, right? But fuck. Why aren’t they here? Where the fuck have they been while I’ve been drowning in grief and unable to find a liferaft to pull me ashore? Don’t they understand I didn’treallywant them to leave me alone? They were supposed to fight me tooth and nail, hovering above me until I gave in. But they… They left me when I needed them, and I only have myself to blame.
My body desperately craves Callum in my bed, snuggling with me until I fall asleep with peaceful dreams. Or Rad taking me on his dirt bike through the light snow dusting the ground, erasing the depression darkening my mind. I want Kieran to hold me and tell me I'll be okay with his possessive nature and nurturing me until I’m well again. And Asher, I'd let him fuck me out of my grief, bringing me to so many damn orgasms I forget why my world is unraveling.
I sigh, massaging my temples. I never thought loneliness would settle so deep inside me, overshadowing my damn life. With a sigh, I head to the kitchen and grab a glass of water. No matter what happens in my life, I must press forward and continue with my goals. And the first step is getting out of bed.
River: Hey, uh…you guys want to hang out?
I tap my nails on the counter, watching the screen with a sharp eye. I scroll up, looking at the two other unanswered messages I'd sent last night, asking if they'd want to come to see me and maybe watch a damn movie. Yet, I was ghosted.
A deep ache forms in my gut, turning it into knots as I over-analyze their shifty ways. Maybe they're playing a gig somewhere, leaving me alone to pick up the pieces, which I'm barely doing. One false move and my reality will shatter, and I’ll be no more than a pile of broken edges on the floor.
Tomorrow my mother's funeral will kick off at noon at the Central Funeral Home. A part of me is ready to continue with this life and move on as quickly as possible. I’ll miss the hell out of my mom, but everything happened so fast. It hasn’t set in yet that she’s truly gone. It’s only been a day, but it feels like she’s at the grocery store and will march through the front door with a grin at any time. Nothing feels real right now.
When I walk past her recliner, my stomach churns at the misery she must have felt lying there and slowly dying all by herself. I stop beside it, running a finger over the worn material, reveling in the feel of the rough fabric against my fingertips. Why didn’t she call for help? Why didn’t she ask someone to take her to the hospital before it was too late? Or had she just given up on life?
So many questions run through my mind with little indication of the answers. The only person who could give me clues has been shoved into a large box destined for the ground tomorrow.
My heart jumps through my chest when a knock sounds at the front door, alerting me to unexpected company. For the most part, everyone has respected the space I requested—almost too much. Ugh. My head swims in confusion. I want people here, but I don’t want people here. I want to wallow in my own misery, yet I want people here to guide me through it. I’m so damn conflicted with what I want; it makes my fingers curl into fists, ready to punch my frustrations away.
“Van?” I blanch when I open my front door, greeted by a sheepish-looking Van holding out a food container.
“I-I heard about your mom, Rivy,” he mutters, rubbing the back of his neck. “I know you’ve always lived alone with her, so I wanted to stop by and see if you were okay. Also, I wanted to drop off some food.” Licking his lips, he hands it over, and the most delicious smell wafts from the lid, making my stomach grumble loud enough for him to pop a smile. “You always did have a hard time taking care of yourself,” he rumbles, pushing past me and waltzing into my apartment like he’s been here before.
I frown at his chastising words, momentarily stunned at his actions. How dare he march into my home and scold me on how I take care of myself. I mean, sure. I haven’t technically eaten all day. Eating when you’re stuck at home with nowhere to go and numbing pain gnawing at your insides makes it challenging to crave food. It’s the last thing on your mind.
“Um, thanks for the food,” I say, shutting the front door and locking it before facing him. “I appreciate the concern. But, uh—what’re you doing here? You’ve never come here before.” Placing the food on the kitchen counter, I peel open the lid. My mouth waters at the sight of the freshly baked meatloaf, mashed potatoes, and a side of corn, and a small biscuit with melted butter rests on top of it all, and my brows furrow. “Did you…?”
