Page 85 of Raine

He’s asking without outright asking about my drug addiction and the shit that went down with Arrow. I didn’t explain my reasons for whisking myself away, but Justyce is a perceptive prick, and he’d seen me spiraling. Not to mention, he knew how close Arrow and I were.

The thought of losing him still hurts; the pain still raw when I allow myself to stop and think about it. I miss him; fuck do I miss him, but I have to leave him alone. Leave him to mourn our relationship and what could never be.

“Raine?”

“Shit, sorry, I spaced. This weekend will be fine. I’ll let you know when I’m leaving.”

“Ok. Good. I’ll see you then.”

“Justyce, wait.”

“Hmm?”

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For being you and giving me this time. It means the world to me and I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

“You bet your ass you will, Rainey,” he croons, and I can hear the smirk in his voice.

“Shut up, asshole.”

He chuckles down the line. “See you in a few days, Raine.”

“Bye, J, and thanks again.”

He doesn’t grace me with a goodbye, instead the line goes dead, and I roll my eyes. Justyce and his damn signature move.

I find myself smiling as I look around the quaint bungalow, loving the freeing feeling and comfort the space has to offer. Creeping over the white-washed floorboards, I open the bedroom door and peek in to see Gabe still asleep.

Closing the door slowly, it clicks quietly and I pad back into the living area, sit on the couch and reach over to the coffee table to grab my mama’s diary.

Flicking it open to the page I marked as my last read. My eyes catch the date in the corner, and I realize it’s been almost three months since her last entry. Settling into the plushness of the lounge, I start reading.

Dear Diary,

My secrets are safe with you, hidden beneath the floors I walk on. Can you keep a secret? Can I tell you what I can’t tell anyone else?

Shit, shit, shit! Things are terrible here, and I haven’t had the opportunity to write. I feel so sick to my stomach with everything that’s gone wrong in the last few months. Even writing this has my tummy in knots and tears streaming down my face.

I’m at a loss with where to go from here and what to do. I have no one to turn to, no one to talk to, and I’m petrified about what I’m going to tell my husband when I build up the courage to do so. How could I let this happen? How could I end up here? I’ve put myself at a massive disadvantage and made such a mess in the process.

I hate them, I hate them all, but I’m stuck with the Tartarus Mafia unless I fancy a bullet in my head, and I can’t let that happen. Especially now.

Someone’s coming, I need to go, but I have to make more time to write, I need to get this shit out before I explode.

Winter

Running my finger over the page, a shiver races down my spine and the hairs on the back of my nape stand to attention. Whatever was happening at that time in my mother’s life had spooked her, and I’m scared to read on and find out what that was exactly.

But I have to; I have to find out what was going on because I’m hoping it will lead me to some answers — answers I’ve been searching to find for so long.

I flip the page, but footsteps have me snapping the book closed and placing it next to me quickly. Gabe walks out with mussed hair and shirtless, his sleep pants hanging so low on his hips it should be illegal. The hard lines and ridges provide the perfect dick route, especially with those tattooed doves on either side.

“Good morning,” he says on a yawn, stretching his arms above his head and causing his pants to shift on his impressive length.

I point to his junk and reply, “Good morning. Wake up healthy, I see.”