Flock (The Ravenhood Duet #1)(95)

Christy sighs. “Well, shit. That was awful.”

“No, it wasn’t,” My mother laughs, lighting a cigarette. “You ate it up.” She gives me a conspiratorial grin. “Should we totally ruin her?”

I nod. “Absolutely.”

“You two are masochists.” She glances between us as I grab the remote. “Making me watch all these old sad movies that hurt.”

“The best ones,” Mom replies, a hint of sadness lacing in her words.

“That may be the truth for some, but I still believe in Prince Charming,” Christy declares, “no matter what brutes you are to me.”

“As you should,” Mom chimes in, “but just know, the picture in your head might not match your reality. There are very few men worth the hell they put you through. So be very careful about who you give your heart and body to. They might eventually take more than you can handle.”

Touché, Mom. Touché.

“Brace yourself,” I say to Christy, grabbing the remote. “This was made in eighty-one.”

“Oh, God.” She sinks beneath the blanket on the couch. “I don’t know if I can handle it.”

Mom winks at me, stubbing out her cigarette as I press play on Endless Love.

It’s there in that living room I find some strength. It’s not the movies I grew up watching with my mom, that she shared with her own mother that gave it to me, though I’m sure they didn’t fucking help my warped perception of love. The strength I draw is from the women surrounding me. For months, I’ve lived for nothing but the men that consumed me before throwing me away. Despite my best efforts, I’d lost myself in them, allowed my affection for them to take up my existence. I made no friends outside their circle, and when I get back, I’ll have no life beyond them. I might have discovered a few things, but mostly all I’ve become is co-dependent. And I’ll make it a point to rectify that.

The only thing I have left to do is grieve and get angry.

And though it hurts like no other pain I’ve felt, I did what I set out to do.

I can safely say Cecelia Horner is a wallflower no more.

I leapt, and now I have to decide if this pain I’m feeling was worth the trade-off of one unforgettable summer.

Time to kick, Cecelia.

Brooke Shields comes on screen, beautiful, na?ve, innocence intact as she takes the steps down the stairs to her lover, untouched by the bitterness that I can’t help but feel, and I want to warn her, to tell her that look she’s giving that boy as they fuck by the firelight is going to cost her. Instead, I ache with her and grieve the innocence she’s letting go of because deep down, I’m still addicted to that all-too-familiar feeling. My heart curses me as I watch on rapt, reliving my days and nights beneath the trees and stars.

As I watch, all I can do is feel the sting of loss and mourn the girl she was before love took hold of her.

My phone buzzes on the table in front of me and Christy’s eyes meet mine as NEVER ANSWER crosses my screen.

I silence it without hesitation, and she gives me a proud smile before her gaze darts back to the movie, her eyes love drunk.

But mine are wide open.

It’s the addict in me fighting to keep me in the deep end, and so, I do the only thing I can.

I kick.





THE DAY I RETURN HOME to Triple Falls, I change the gate code and trash the bikini I wore the day at the lake. My phone buzzes with a lone text and I ignore it. I haven’t permitted myself to check Sean’s messages yet. There’s no excuse, no reason I can fathom that will ever be good enough for what they’ve done to me.

I’ve trapped myself in my bedroom and spent the majority of my day reading up on career possibilities and the majors that coincide with them. I’ll have the first year of school to seriously mull it over, so I rest easy in that knowledge but decide to get a jump on my pre-requisites and sign up for fall classes. Between my time at community college and working at the plant, I’ll stay busy enough to keep my nose clean.

Back to square one.

And I’ll use my time here productively. With a clean slate, trying my best to erase the last three and a half months.

After a few hours locked into my cell, I decide on a better plan. And it has nothing to do with getting even and everything to do with eradicating any lingering curiosity or attachment to my summer.

Sometimes the best revenge is piquing the curiosity of those that fucked you and moving on. I’ve learned well enough over the past few months that silence can be the best weapon. So, if Sean wants to be heard, my retribution for his betrayal will be to shut him out. Although he’s been doing all of the calling and texting, I swore I heard the distinct sound of a Camaro on the lone road when I walked the grounds of the garden this morning. But these men are bold, they’ve raided my home more than once unannounced, and if they want to get to me, they will.

Roman’s permanently moved to Charlotte. He’s no threat. If they want my attention so much, they know where to find me. And I have to be ready because odds are, if Sean’s calling and texting, and I continue to avoid them, they’ll be coming.

What could they possibly want or have to say?

If they regret it, why did they take so many pains in making such a show of it? And not just in front of locals, but other chapters of the hood.

I can’t afford to care. My head and heart can’t take it.