Total pages in book: 127
Estimated words: 121460 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 607(@200wpm)___ 486(@250wpm)___ 405(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121460 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 607(@200wpm)___ 486(@250wpm)___ 405(@300wpm)
Arran sucked in a breath. “Roe … I’m sorry.”
Not wanting his pity, I threw back the rest of my beer, finishing it. I held out the empty bottle and waggled it. “Got anything stronger?”
With a sigh, Arran pushed up off his bed and crossed the room to take the empty bottle. His fingers wrapped around mine instead. “You’re my friend, Roe. And no bird—I mean, lady—will ever make me forget about you.”
Tears threatened, so I pulled back my hand and gave him a lopsided smile. “Good to know, Arr. Now, do you have anything stronger?”
He chuckled and backed up. “Turn up the music while I go hunt for the good stuff.”
As soon as Arran left the room, panic tried to force its way back in. I lunged across the room, opening the ancient bloody window that offered little protection against the cold, and sucked in a lungful of night air. I noted my hands trembled and realized my whole body was too.
“Calm down,” I whispered to myself. This was not a normal reaction, right?
But Brodan had abandoned me.
Just like everyone else who was supposed to love me.
STOP!
I didn’t want to think about it. I didn’t want to think about anything. It hurt too fucking much.
Cranking up Biffy Clyro on the fancy desktop Lachlan had bought Arran, I wandered around his room, looking for a distraction. Thankfully, he returned not too long later with a full bottle of whisky.
At first, everything was free and clear of the cognizance-destroyer that was alcohol.
We chatted about my time at uni and about his job as a waiter at a fancy restaurant north of Ardnoch. We reminisced about school and talked about the places we wanted to see. He told me Lachlan had offered to bring him and Brodan out to his film set next summer. But I couldn’t remember much of our conversation after a certain point.
I honestly didn’t know who reached for who first.
The moment would be forever fragmented in my memories, flashes of kisses, of sensation.
Everything came crashing back into clear, painful, focused reality at the sound of someone roaring, “I’m going to fucking kill you!”
Not someone.
Brodan.
Arran was above me. Inside me.
We were naked.
Shock suffused Arran’s face, and he twisted his head around to look over his shoulder. Then he was scrambling off me, revealing Brodan, who gaped at me in abject betrayal, his look cutting me to the core.
The room swayed as I whispered his name.
He flinched, and then his gaze shot to Arran, who was pulling up his jeans. “Look, Bro, just—”
Brodan cut him off by lunging across the room at his brother. I sobered up quickly. Practically falling off the bed, I hurried to pull on my clothes as I heard the telltale smack of a fist meeting flesh.
“No!” I cried out, yanking down my sweater to see Brodan on top of Arran.
Arran struggled beneath him, trying to avoid his brother’s fists.
“Brodan, stop!” I yelled.
But he wouldn’t.
He wouldn’t stop.
He was pummeling Arran.
Punch after punch, the smack of flesh turning my stomach.
Terror propelled me to them, and I yanked on Brodan’s arm, but he shrugged me off with such force, I flew back and hit the foot of the bed. Pain ricocheted up my lower back, and I cried out as I landed hard on my wrist.
Brodan whirled around, horror on his face. “Roe.” He looked back down at Arran, who was a bloodied, groaning mess. Brodan heaved himself off his brother. Tears swam in his eyes, a million tortured emotions within.
And I couldn’t face him.
I couldn’t face what I’d done to them.
So I ran.
Not thinking clearly, I got to my car, threw up on the gravel beside it, and then got in where I drunkenly cried and recklessly drove all the way home.
I’d never been so drunk that I couldn’t remember details. But over the next few weeks (and years), I tried desperately to remember how Arran and I ended up having sex … and I couldn’t. We’d finished an entire bottle of whisky and started on his pack of beer. I was ill for days with the worst hangover of my life.
I wasn’t in my right mind when I had sex with Arran. Neither was he.
There were only flashes of memories, everything coming into sharp focus upon the moment of Brodan’s appearance.
It was a night that I could barely remember … and yet it had ruined everything.
11
Monroe
PRESENT DAY
* * *
Leaning against my desk, I tried not to laugh at the sight of Ellen Hunter and David White, P6 and P7 teachers, sitting in the small chairs that belonged to my pupils.
Instead, I concentrated on the task at hand.
It was lunchtime. The kids were in the cafeteria or out on the playground, and we’d inhaled our own lunches so we’d have time to discuss the upcoming Christmas play. Unfortunately, I had to rush to Mum’s as soon as the school day ended to take her to a late appointment with her physical therapist. So this was the only time we had this week to choose a musical among a very small list we could legally get a license to perform.