Page 81 of From the Wreckage

Brielle

It’s Wednesday and I’m still at dad’s cabin in Silverpine Lake.

If I were on campus right now, I would be sitting in Intro to Sociology, pretending to take notes while doing everything in my power not to look at Joey.

But the thought of walking into that classroom makes me sick. The idea of his blue eyes finding me like nothing ever happened twists my stomach until I think I’ll be sick again.

So I don’t go.

Instead, I step outside, away from the sanctuary I’ve been hiding in.

A blanket clings to my shoulders as I lower myself into one of the chairs on the back patio.

The mountain air is cool, sharper than what I’m used to at Willow Glen.

A soft wind brushes my face, carrying pine and lake water, and for one fragile second, I think maybe it’ll help.

But it doesn’t.

Nothing does.

My gaze betrays me, sliding across the water to Everett’s cabin, quiet and still. I wonder if he’s inside, thinking of me. My thoughts split me wide open. The ache is so sharp I have to look away, gasping like the air itself has turned to glass in my lungs.

I shouldn’t think about him. But my chest still aches for what I shouldn’t want. For the man I shouldn’t need.

And now, he wouldn’t want me even if he had fought for me. I’m tainted. Unclean. Ruined. Even though it wasn’t my fault, the voice whispers those words like a chant.

I pull the blanket tighter, sinking into the chair as tears slip down my cheeks. No man will ever want me again. I’m damaged goods, hollowed out in ways I’ll never fix.

I close my eyes, but it doesn’t matter. The memories claw back, vicious and unrelenting, haunting me in the day as much as they do at night.

A sob rattles my chest, and I press my face into the blanket.

Instead of the familiar smell of detergent and woodsmoke, I smell leather, pine, and that scent that’s uniquely Everett.

His face flashes through my mind – warm brown eyes, chiseled jawline with dark scruff covering it, the rare smile on his face that I coaxed from him often.

But he dissolves like smoke, and in his place is Joey—the golden, blue-eyed god, darkness lurking behind his smile. His looks hid the darkness within, even though the mask would sometimes crack, and slivers of it would show in his eyes and smile.

I tremble, my fingers clutching the edge of the blanket until they’re white.

If only I’d gone straight home Saturday night. If only I’d said no. If only…

But I didn’t.

And now, Wednesday morning feels like a lifetime away from the girl I used to be.

And I know she’s never coming back.