Page 20 of CurVy Forever

While I’m thinking about fucking the life out of her against a tree, grating her skin with the bark, the image of my brother impregnating her, of her round belly, of a small child, flashes in my mind. Then the little girl, what I could be… The one I took that day carves through my thoughts and claws her broken nails along my heart.

“Vallie!” My tone is commanding. “Make an appointment to get that implant back in your arm!”

“Firstly,” she sneers, the speaker crackling under her angry breath. “Don’t tell me what to fucking do. Secondly, I’ve made an online booking already. I can’t get in until next Wednesday.”

“The incision?”

“Just a bruise and a small cut.”

“And until then?”

“None of your damn business!”

She hangs up the phone.

I stare ahead, watching the forest move and rock. This is it. I get a second chance to make amends with my brothers. With Tyler, at least.

Looking over my shoulder at the bitch on my mattress, with her makeup smeared over my sheets, her left leg hitched high, showcasing her pussy, I cringe. I can do better than this. I can be a better man for them. After everything that happened with that little girl, I’ll never drink again.

Never be that messy…

“You have until six a.m.” I state smoothly, strolling around my room, pulling on a pair of jeans and a black shirt.

She mumbles in her sleep.

“Six a.m.,” I repeat and leave her in my room.

Shoving my phone in my pocket, I head downstairs and enter the lounge with purpose and meaning. I don’t allow myself to dwell or think. I open the cabinet—the one that has all my aged whiskey—and I empty it.

I take all that liquid gold to the bin and dump them, listening with a wince to the smashing and splashes. I’ve resisted these for a while, but Tyler won’t believe me. He’ll see the bottles; he’ll remember his drunken older brother. Useless to defend him. Useless in general.

Hell, I don’t blame him.

So, I send a text to our housekeeper:

Tyler is coming home tomorrow. Prepare. Get all the groceries he’ll want. All his favourites. Clean the house. Open the windows. And polish the piano.

Not that he’ll play it.

But I want it presentable.

I want everything perfect.

For him.

CHAPTER 9

VALLIE

I can’t handle him alone.

But I won’t leave him.

What the hell am I thinking?

All night, I struggle with the decision to take Tyler back to his family home, back to Dexter.

But, I toss and turn with images of Oliver arriving at my door and Tyler finishing the job…

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