Crushed (Torn #7)(38)

At the end of the day, I had to do what was right for me, though, not for everyone. I paid my dues by choosing a dark, stupid path, and I learned my lesson. Sometimes it was better to lock it down, suffer alone, and get through it the best as I possibly could.

Brody could judge me all he wanted, but I had been through so much as it was, so there was no way in hell I would ever tell another soul what I had gone through that night. Relaying the story of that night had already been a nightmare. I couldn’t go through that again. That was enough. It was all I could muster. No more … no more.

For me to get through this ordeal, I had to learn how to forgive myself. Then, maybe in time, things would change for the better.





Chapter Twenty-One





It was already past midnight when I decided to get in my car to aimlessly drive around. I felt like a woman on the verge of a meltdown, and no matter what I did, it seemed as if nothing was helping me lift my spirits. I wasn’t necessarily crying, though my eyes were moist from the hard encounter I’d had with Brody. I wasn’t necessarily angry, yet I could feel my temper flare at any given moment. It was as though I couldn’t control my emotions and was simply watching it play out, praying I wouldn’t do something I would regret.

Therefore, I drove while my mind busied itself playing images of Brody’s horrified face, him blaming himself for what had happened, and then the genuine concern in his eyes when he told me he would wait until I came home.

My thoughts drove me to hit up the one spot that was always open to give me a helping hand—the liquor store. The moment I got there, I shot out of the car before barging inside the damn place, going immediately through the aisles to the hard stuff. My eyes lazily scanned the bottles then decided on the Patron and Jack Daniels. The guy barely looked up to ask to check for my i.d. before he took the items and rung them on the till. After I paid with cash, I quickly jumped back inside the car and drove towards the beach, hoping the fresh air and the sound of the calming waves would clear my troubled mind.

With two bottles in hand, I lowered the windows down just so I could hear the sound of the waves crashing against the sandy shore. Then I opened one bottle after the other, taking a sip, tasting the one on my right before resuming the one on my left. I wanted to get lost, so this was the best I could do.

There was this rotten need inside of me to purge myself off all the awful things I had held inside for so long. I couldn’t keep on going, living life the way I was: full of pessimism, insecurity, and lacking of self-worth.

So I drank until I no longer could.

Then, once I realized I’d had enough of it, I closed the cap on both bottles and drove back to Carter’s house, hoping I could just get into bed and dream of another world, one where I was wanted and happy.

A

I wasn’t sure what I was expecting with Brody when I got back inside the house, but true to his word, he had stayed in Carter’s room.

It was about five in the morning when I arrived, so I wasn’t all that shocked to find him fast asleep on Carter’s couch. What made me smile a little was the food he had on the table with a note stating that he brought it up there while he waited, as if he wanted to make sure he was there when I arrived. I stood there, mesmerized, as I felt all these powerful emotions surged from my heart while I watched him with careful eyes.

I scrutinized his beautifully chiseled face, seeming peaceful, while I stood in the quiet silence, etching him—this moment—into memory.

Maybe it was the intensity of my gaze that woke him from a deep slumber, but when he woke, he almost jumped out of his skin, shocked like a complete weirdo who’d caught a ghost staring at him.

“Amber?” he asked before he fully opened his sleepy eyes.

“Hey,” I finally said, slumping next to him on the couch, still a little bit drunk, a little sprung on love, a little confused, and just a little, wee bit horny.

Glancing at me, he took a quick sniff towards me, immediately detecting something.

“You’ve been drinking?” he asked before taking a major whiff of me like a dog that smelled food in the air. “I waited hours and hours for you while you were out getting drunk? Are you kidding me?”

“I’m sorry.”

I watched his face run through all sorts of emotions before he hastily shook his head. “No, I don’t want to hear that you’re sorry. You can’t keep doing this to yourself. You have to stop!”

“You’re right,” I meekly whispered before I brazenly stood up and began to strip my clothes away one by one, bit by bit, until I was left with my cowboy boots on. Alone.

“Amber.” He stared at me wildly, probably half horny and half pissed off. I could see the flare of desire in his eyes the second he saw my naked body

I couldn’t blame him if he was both horny and mad, but seriously, after the kind of conversation we’d had earlier, the stress from the past week, and all the bullshit shenanigans I had gone through, I needed a break and wanted to feel pleasure. I also, in some ways, maybe needed one last tumble in the sack with him.

“If you want to help, I need you like this, inside of me, f*uking me.” Unblinking, I gave him a straight look, a little shy because he hadn’t seen me naked in months.

“But you’re drunk.”

His immediate rejection shook my stance a little but not enough to stop me from pursuing the subject.