Page 125 of The Fractured

Her pupils were dilated, and her lips were parted with a question. “About what?”

I dropped my hand. “You.”

“Dean, I told you, I’m fine.”

“You’ve been actin’ different since you cut your neck… If it’s not about the discussion with your parents, is it the gun?”

“No,” she sighed.

“Did the blood trigger somethin’?”

“Dean…”

“Was last night too rough? Did I hurt you?”

“No, it’s nothing. I’m just overtired and a little restless, that’s all.” A smirk toyed on her lips, and she reached for the hem of her shirt. “Now, can we continue before Seb and Kira get home—”

I caught her wrists, and her eyes widened. “If you’re tired, you need sleep.”

“I’m fine.”

“I don’t think you are,” I said softly.

Keys jingled at the front door before Seb and Kira entered the apartment, calling out happy hellos as they walked down the short hallway. They were back early, crushing Lily’s plans, but also failed to read the room as they talked about what they did at Coney Island.

I wasn’t listening. My eyes were on Lily while I waited for her response.

As our friends entered, Lily withdrew. Not only physically from me, but mentally. I saw the walls in her blank stare, enclosing her firmly in her thoughts as she backed away towards her room.

I followed until the door was shut in my face and locked.

Seb and Kira fell silent.

A second passed as I held the door handle, but didn’t try it. I had witnessed my father barge through doors enough to know not to.

I wasn’t him.

“What happened?” Seb asked carefully.

I shook my head. “She won’t talk to me.”

Chapter 42

Lily

Everyone enjoyed themselves today.

Everyone was moving on.

But I am stuck.

I had been stuck for the past month, trying so badly to act like everything was fine. Being a supportive girlfriend and friend; trying to give the people I love somewhere safe to talk and deal with all the bullshit going on around us.

Meanwhile, I was drowning in fear.

I backed away from the door and sank to the floor at the end of my bed. Every breath was shorter and shorter.

Sex was a coping method. And rough sex, I discovered last night, brought a different meaning to the word pain. Although temporary, it worked to draw me from my head — to reset my brain and bring back some kind of normal.