Page 22 of Genesis

He’s now in a black T-shirt with faded jeans, his hair is wet from the shower he just had, and as he walks by me, my knees weaken and butterflies soar. God, he’s something. I’ve dreamed about him for years. How I wished he’d throw rocks at my window again and want to climb inside.

How much I’ve wanted to show him I’m not that little girl anymore, but perfectly capable of matching up to him.

But he never came to visit and neither did I. He clearly doesn’t see me any differently from when I left. Samuel and I have been spending a lot of time together, but we’re not official or anything. I love being around him, and he’s soul-shatteringly kind.

But there’s no hard rush.

There’s no out-of-control beating from my chest.

Regardless, I care about him. I always have.

I hear the front door open. “Where are you going?”

I smile hearing that voice.

“Well, look what the cat dragged in,” Danny says, and I can hear the happy in his tone.

I let go of Samuel’s hand, leaving the kitchen and passing through the dining room as Danny and Paul end a quick hug, and then Paul sees me.

“Holy shit. Bexley?” He grins from ear to ear. I hurry over to him and hug the boy I’ve always thought of as a brother but haven’t seen since I was thirteen.

“Good God, what have you been up to?” he asks me.

I shrug. “Nothing much. What about you, college boy?” I nudge his shoulder.

He smiles. “I’m going to be mayor of this town one day. Just wait.”

“Just don’t forget about us little people,” I say with a smirk.

“Never,” he says. He looks away from me. “Johnny, good to see you.”

Johnny nods, shaking his hand. “Yeah, you, too.”

“Where’s Ma?” Paul questions.

“Kitchen,” Danny says. “Johnny is moving out of the foster home, so we’ll be out for a bit.” He walks past his older brother.

“Be back before dark,” Paul says playfully.

Danny grins, his eyes going to me for a quick moment before he exits the house.

Chapter Eleven

Bones

Three days missing

My ribs ache when I breathe, and dried blood is caked on my temple and the side of my face. With the help from the wall behind me, I somehow manage to get back upright in the chair. It’s a struggle from hell, especially since I can’t use my legs or arms. This motherfucker is making sure I can’t get out.

I’m depleted of energy. The only thing keeping me going is the fact she’s here with me. And I want to see this man suffer. On top of my exhaustion, I’m troubled that she hates me. And why wouldn’t she? I’m not a good man. At one time, I did try to be for her—well, I tried to be around her, but what good did that do? I only got her for a brief moment, and then it was all snatched away.

One minute she was mine, and the next I was on my knees, begging her to change her mind.

But she didn’t.

She let me go.

I’ve felt a knife in my chest ever since. They say young love is fragile, that one wrong move can break it because it’s too weak to withstand the hardships of life. But my love for her never faltered even after she chose another man.

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