“No one hurt anyone.”
“Bullshit.” He scoffs. “Ask anyone who has been in a room with you two for the last month. There is hurt practically suffocating the air. So, did you hurt my sister, or did my sister hurt you?”
I open my mouth to say I’m not doing this. Or I don’t want to talk about it. Something. For some reason, though, this loveable teddy bear stoner breaks down my walls and I feel a tear fall down my cheek.
“She hurt me,” I whisper brokenly.
He flattens his mouth together with a small nod.
“I figured. Do you want to talk about it?”
I shake my head.
“Do you want her back?”
I hesitate for a moment before shaking again. We’re too toxic. She’s too…we just…no. I can’t.
“Damn, that sucks,” Brad says.
“Why?”
“Not to manipulate or anything, but I’d never seen Bridge so happy as she was this summer, and I know that had everything to do with you. Our dad is a piece of shit, as you can tell, and she never knew our mom. You…it was like you healed some shit in her or something. I really thought you guys were gonna make it.”
“Nothing lasts in Salem,” I say morbidly.
Brad’s face falls as he nods his agreement because it’s true. There is a reason there are only a handful of original wives and mothers still around. My mother is an anomaly, and it’s only because she married the kindest man she possibly could have. Had she married Harry twenty-three years ago, she’d probably already be six feet under. That’s just the terrifying reality of life around here. Women are seen as dispensable, only good for children and arm candy. It’s fucking disgusting.
And people wonder why I want nothing to do with men.
It’s too bad I couldn’t just marry Brad. I feel like we’d have a chill open door marriage, and he’s quickly becoming a really good friend. Think it would be too taboo to do a switch-a-roo with my stepbrother?
Probably no more so than fucking my stepsister all summer.
“I’ll see you later,” I say as I begin walking down the front steps.
Brad nods. “I’ll tell them you got the shits.”
I choke out a laugh and shake my head.
“Whatever you gotta do, man.”
He laughs and heads back inside as I slide into my car and head to the university. Fucking Brad. Love that guy.
Chapter Twenty Five
Bridgette
The day I’ve been dreading is here. The rescheduled date. My father called me this morning and informed me that Thomas would be picking me up straight from my dorm, and that I better be presentable. He also instructed me to be a good girl for him. We both knew what that meant, and it made my stomach roil instantly.
I’ve been texting Asher for hours, hoping I can pull off some kind of excuse again to delay. Even if I left pissed the last time. Unfortunately, the asshole won’t return my messages.
Me: What are you doing today?
Me: Do you want to get together?
Me: I’ll suck you off until you see stars.
Me: Asher, answer me.