Page 14 of Hate So Deep (Hate #4)

NOW

Lauren

It’s Christmas Eve. The better part of me wants to stay in bed and ignore this fucking holiday and the people no doubt congregating down there as we speak.

The problem is, if I do, someone will come looking for me anyway. You’d think I could wallow in my misery just a little longer but no, I have to put my game face on, and I just don’t have it in me.

My parents chose to remove Buck from life support two days ago. He’s gone. I will never speak to him again and he’ll never grow old.

Logically, I know that our relationship was crap and it’s possible once I graduated and left, we wouldn’t speak regularly anyway but that doesn’t stop my heart from aching over what could have been.

Beyond that, I’m so fucking cold. I can’t feel my fingers when I run them over my lips, equally numb and with a shiver, I burrow beneath the blankets that do nothing to alleviate the bone-deep chill.

The day my parents made this momentous decision, I stood outside the hospital room where my brother laid and listened to them argue, once again about shit that didn’t matter.

Sadly, I think my mom was more focused on punishing my dad than the actual act of letting go but it’s his response to yet another insult that sent me back a step.

Buck wasn’t exactly innocent in all this, was he? Maybe if you had told him the truth, we wouldn’t be here right now.

What truth? Is my mother hiding something?

The low murmur of voices down below brings me back to the present and I groan.

Sitting across from my dad and Celia today feels beyond repugnant now.

Did Dad care about Buck? Is he sad that he’s gone?

Fuck me.

I feel empty as I glance around my new room, taking in the lavender comforter and pale wood furnishings that Dad must have informed Celia I liked…when I was fifteen fucking years old.

Whatever.

The only thing my parents did agree on after letting my brother die is that I should spend the holiday here and clutching the teddy bear my pop-pop gave me a bazillion years ago, I curl into a ball and pick up my phone.

I see a few new messages, but I don’t have the energy to respond. Most are from fake as fuck friends who didn’t care enough about Buck while he was alive, so their condolences don’t mean shit now.

My parents still have to plan the funeral but all I know is that I don’t know anything, and the notion presses at my chest, burning hotter than ever when someone knocks at my door.

Sucking in a breath, I let it out slowly before rasping, “Yeah?”

“Lala?” Celia says and I wince. “Can I come in?”

It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell her to fuck off but thankfully years of being taught how to be a good little bitch kick in and I mumble, “Okay.”

She slowly opens the door and peeks beyond while I summon the strength to bite back my bitch. Still in her pajamas, I note her mussed hair and tired eyes as she approaches with a tentative smile, and asks, “How are you feeling?”

Numb. Confused. Fucking cold.

Of course, I don’t express any of those things and say instead, “Tired.”

Nodding, she looks around the room before she sighs and says, “I know this is weird for you, sweetie and, I can’t imagine how you’re feeling. I’m probably the last person you want to talk to, but I want you to know that I’m here.”

Strangely, tears form in my eyes at her sincerity, but I brush them away as I sit up and move to the edge of the bed.

“Thanks,” I say. “I’ll just be down in a minute.”

“Okay, but you don’t have to pretend, Lala. We understand if you just need some time to be alone.”

Eyeing her sideways, I slowly nod. It’s weird to be having this conversation. I barely know the woman and up until now, I’ve hated her for what she’s done to my family.

But whose fault, is it? Dad for betraying us? This woman for being the one he chose. Or maybe Mom because she’s not an easy woman to live with.

Either way, I don’t know how to process the weird feeling pressing at my chest. I need time and say, “I-I just need a minute.”

She searches my eyes before slowly nodding and once she’s gone, I collapse back to the bed and stare at the ceiling.

Fuck me but I’m so damn confused right now.

I take my time showering, the hot water soothing my aching muscles. After, I blow out my hair until it shines.

I didn’t bring much with me and frankly what I did bring doesn’t make much sense, so I settle on a sleeveless white silk shirt and jeans before pulling on my favorite boots.

The minimal makeup I do have was in my purse, so I feel a bit naked as I swipe on lip gloss and step into the hall.

Halfway down the stairs, I pause though, taking in the low rumble of voices and laughter from the kitchen.

It feels so wrong to enter the fray, knowing these people didn’t care about my brother and to them, this is a normal Christmas Eve morning.

However, I can’t hide in my room forever.

At the base of the stairs, I stop long enough to get my shit together because I refuse to show weakness around the pack of hyenas constantly sniffing for my blood.

Strangely, my heart doesn’t feel the same way about Dirk though because when I hear his deep voice behind me, tears fill my eyes.

“Lauren? Are you okay?”

Immediately, my limbs go noodly, and the pain bubbling just below my skin rushes out in a torrent.

After everything that’s transpired between us, it shouldn’t be Dirk who I feel comfortable being vulnerable with but as has been established too many times to count, I’m a lost freaking cause when it comes to this man.

Thankfully, I manage to bite back my sobs as I mumble, “I’m great.”

His brows furrow as he searches my eyes before he wraps his arms around me and says against my ear, “I’m sorry, baby girl.”

Shuddering, I fist the fabric of his shirt while my shoulders heave but all too soon, reality intrudes and I step away when I hear Colt say, “Where’d Dirk go?”

Dirk glances over my shoulder with a frown and exhausted under the weight of grief pulling at my limbs, I whisper, “Go.”

When he looks up, I stare as he says once again, “I’m sorry.”

For what? My brother’s death or treating me like a goddamn shameful secret?

Mustering a feeble smile, I step to the side as Colt appears in the hall, glancing between us with a furrowed brow before he says, “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” Dirk says with a shrug as I back toward the bathroom. “Just saying hello to Lauren.”

Once again, Colt glances at my face and I summon a bitchy smile before escaping beyond the door and closing it behind me.

“Is there something you want to tell me?” Colt asks and I press my head to the cool surface, shamelessly eavesdropping.

“Nope,” Dirk replies.

“Really? You wanna tell me why you’ve got a nickname for my sister?”

Sister? Is that a first or does he really think of me as such?

There’s a beat of silence before Dirk says, “What? Her name is fucking Lauren, dick.”

After that something brushes the wall and when I hear a grunt, I turn my head and press my ear against the door.

Except, silence descends, and I grab the knob, thinking to intervene just as Colt says, “I’ma ask you one more time. You got something to tell me?”

“No,” Dirk says and I back away.

Would it be so bad to admit we fooled around for fucks sake? I guess it would.

Even now, Dirk is denying me, and I can’t say that I appreciate the burn rolling up my sternum and settling in my chest.

“Fine,” Colt grunts. “When’s your woman coming by?”