Page 102 of Before We Fell

“You shouldn’t have come here. But there’s no way I’m letting you drive out of here.”

I peeked outside, the door opened. I was unable to close it due to Travis being on his knees in my entryway.

“Go away,” Riley whispered. Her voice sounded tortured. At Noah’s back, her chin quivered. “Go away. Go away go away go away.”

“Thank you,” Noah said, and he dropped the phone. Squeezing Riley’s shoulder, he gave her gentle shake. “Hey, Squirt. Go to the bedroom please, yah?”

She shook her head. The glass ornament in her hands shattered. The small sound made me jump.

Travis’s eyes went to hers and Noah frowned. “Riley.”

“Go away,” she repeated. Tiny rivulets of blood popped on her hand and Noah cursed. “Go away go away go away.”

Her voice rose with every word until her body trembled.

Travis tilted his head up to me, sick smile appearing again. “Looks like she doesn’t like me.”

“Go away! Go away!” Riley shouted. The force of it knocked me back a step. “You killed them! You killed them.”

At her scream, Travis’s head snapped to hers. He still wore the sick grin.

I was frozen. So completely stunned. Noah, quicker than me, dropped the phone to the floor and bent down to her face. “Riley!” He shook her shoulders again, tried to get her attention.

My feet were rooted to the floor, but everything else turned to ice in my veins.

Tears dripped down my cheeks and I looked down at Travis. “Hey,” he drawled. He lifted his hand, bony finger pointed at Riley. “Do I know you?”

At his question, Riley screamed. She opened her mouth and let out the most ear-piercing scream, it rattled the floors and made my ears hurt.

Travis shoved his hand to my kitchen floor, fell to his side, and passed out.

“Holy shit,” I murmured. “Holy crap.” My eyes darted to Noah.

His face was as ashen as Riley. He hugged her while she screamed, the force and volume of her shout continuing, only stopping while she gasped for breath and continued.

Police sirens echoed in the distance and grew closer.

“He did it!” she screamed again. Her hands clawed at Noah’s back, like she was trying to rip through his shirt. “Mommy and Daddy! He did it!”

“Oh no,” I said, and my voice was a whisper. Tortured. Rough like sandpaper.

But that wasn’t what hurt most of all.

It was the look in Noah’s eyes. The unmitigated, unparalleled fiery glare in his narrowed eyes as they sliced in my direction.

I stumbled away from him. Away from my waste of space brother passed out on my kitchen entry floor and collapsed to my knees.

He hated me.

And who could freaking blame him?

Thirty-Two

Lauren

To sayit was the Mondayest of Mondays to ever exist was a vast understatement.

It’d been four days since the best Thanksgiving of my life.

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