Chuckles…my eyes widen at the thought of that awful clown coming to drag me to hell.
“Dollancie! Everything okay?” The voice comes again, definitely belonging to a man.
A man I know.
“Shit.” Shane lets go.
I ease forward, attempting to see in the side mirror. A cruel hand thumps into my breast, shoving me hard into the seat.
I wince, pitifully like an animal whose master has turned on them.
“See what you make me do! I’m gonna go deal with him. Shut up, stay put, and stay quiet, and there’ll be no more fucking arguments.”
Shane jumps from the car, asking an impossibility, because my lungs have greedily clutched at air since the second he removed his violent hands.
Still shaking with anger, he plasters on a fake smile that I can barely see through the rearview mirror and tinted back windows.
Ignoring whatever words he has blowing into the wind, my shaking legs, bouncing rapidly, knock on the door, reminding me I still have a chance to get away. I pull the handle, but my legs fail me, and I stumble on the first step out onto the edge. Stones and mud attack my knees as I land on the ground. The pain doesn’t register, the intense feeling of suffocating in my lungs, and the ache in my breast are all I can focus on.
“Dollancie!” the voice comes again. “Dollancie!”
Taking a painful breath that’s a little too deep, I turn in the direction of my name. Looking through pink waves, I see blond hair and a look of shock.
Nyx had already seen my bruises and pretended to accept the lie that I fell out of bed. He hadn’t seen the tears and fear that I might not survive the day that’s plastered on my face now.
That’s probably how Mom and Dad felt.
That thought brings more tears.
Shane rushes over, stepping in the way of Nyx, who was already reaching for me. “Still feel lightheaded, huh?” he asks, faking concern and a whole-ass story that is different from the one I’d told. “She wasn’t feeling well. That’s why we pulled over. Did she tell you about her slipping in the bathroom? That’s why her face looks so bad. Bounced straight out of the tub. Which is probably why she has a headache.”
I struggle to talk, my throat still constricted as my fingers massage the area. Tears still sting my eyes as Shane hoists me into the seat. “Let’s get you home, huh?”
“Dollancie, why don’t you come with me?” Nyx’s face appears over Shane’s shoulder. “I can take you home, or to the hospital, or to meet Annabelle. Wherever you want to go.”
“I can take her home myself. She just needs some space.” Shane buckles me up, sitting in the doorway of the car.
Nyx doesn’t move, rain pouring into his eyes, not minimizing the concern I see on his face.
The pretty pink paint on his T-shirt makes me wonder if my house is finished and if I’ll ever get to see it.
“I’m asking her. I wanna hear it from her.”
“Fine.” Shane huffs. His hand takes mine, moving back up to that painful part of my wrist. A finger pushes the bruise like it’s some kind of magic button that will get me to comply. “Tell Nyx you’re okay, Lancie.”
While this close, the cruelty in Shane’s eyes, in his touch, makes me nod.
“I can take you home, Dollancie,” Nyx offers.
“I’m fine,” I croak, not wanting to drag Nyx into this.
“I have to go there anyway. The guys are still there doing some yard work,” he insists. “I just ran out to get a late lunch.”
“She’s fine, man.” Shane stands, letting go of my wrist and using those same fingertips on Nyx’s chest, guiding him back. “It’s just been a rough fucking day. We’ll see you back at the house.”
“I’m fine, Nyx. Really.” I’m not fine. I’m trembling in my seat. I’m trying to rock myself into a calmer state. I’m trying to use my own hair for sensory support—but it doesn’t feel like Ambrose’s.
I force out a stuttered mess of words, “I’ll meet you at the house.”
