Page 28 of Cup of Lies

God, I wish I could crack my skull open, pick the important stuff out, and figure out what the hell is going on with my life.

I close my eyes and rub the back of my neck. The tension is making my skin burn as if it’s on fire. I’m pretty sure if I keep clenching my teeth, I’m going to crack a molar or two.

How does a man relax when his mind is unraveling?

I’m spinning, spinning, spinning.

It’s making me sick.

I want off this damn ride.

I’ve got to be smart about this. LuLu may not be my sister, but she’s my responsibility. I got her in this mess, which means I have to get her out of it.

I’m sorry, kid. I messed up. I’m completely and utterly fucked in the head.

With my eyes squeezed shut as I massage the tightness near the back of my skull, I’m hit with a sudden memory.

A massive yacht.

Lots and lots of snow.

Romy. Stunning, sassy, sexy.

I have her pushed against a wall, fingers inside her, drawing pleasure from her while people are a few feet away, barely out of sight.

My chest aches fiercely. I miss her. It’s like my heart is cursing at my brain right now for being able to forget a woman like her. The pain’s been sitting in my ribcage all along, but my mind is just getting the memo.

I want to linger in the sweetness of her breathy moans. Memories have other plans, especially bad ones.

There’s a man on top of her—my deceased brother, Gareth—and she’s begging him to stop. I see red. I want to kill him. Idokill him. And after I’ve ripped him away from her and broken his neck, I deposit him over the side of the yacht without regret.

Because of her.

Romy.

My love.

Another memory teases my mind and I see glimpses of LuLu. On the rug as someone rapes her. I watch. I sat there and watched because I didn’t want to jeopardize my chances of finding my sister. The irony isn’t lost on me that she’d one day be placed in my care as the sister I never truly had but was made to believe. Fury infects every cell in my body and a pained roar explodes out of me.

I’ve fucked up so badly. People have gotten hurt because of me.

I’ll kill whoever hurt LuLu just like I killed my own brother for hurting Romy.

A hand on my shoulder snaps me out of the awful memories. I turn to see LuLu staring down at me, eyebrows pinched in concern. I’m unable to meet her gaze. Guilt is death by a thousand cuts, each one deeper than the last.

How do I apologize for my complicity?

That’s what it was.

No wonder she hates me.

She remembers that I sat and did nothing while a man physically and mentally destroyed her.

You provided the drugs, man.

Another slash of guilt, this time across my throat, makes it hard for me to breathe. I claw at my neck, gasping for air. What’s happening?

You’re dying.

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