Page 31 of Prove Me Wrong
Sinnett is silent again, and I hear a knock on the front door, drawing my attention away. “No, I couldn’t find him when I went to his place,” Sinnett admits in a murderous voice.
I stand and walk through the creaky house. “You went to find him?”
“He abused and raped you, Mia. Did you really expect me not to do anything?” my brother shouts through the phone, and I have to pull it away from my ear before it bursts.
Whimpering, I stop at the front door with my hand resting on the knob, eyes shutting momentarily as bile pushes its way up my oesophagus. The sheer memory makes my bones quake and stomach roil as I think about myself being pinned beneath him. Of how I looked when I turned up at my brother’s door, with bruises and marks and tears and bare feet. It would have been damaging to see his sister looking that way, but forme, it cut me so deeply that my soul still aches when I think about what he did.
“Thank you, Sin,” I whisper. “I didn’t know you did that for me.” My forehead rests against the cold timber door as shivers of trepidation fall down my back like feathers tickling my flesh.
Sinnett’s tone is equally quiet now. “I’ll always have your back, Mia. You know that. Which is why I’m worried for you.” There’s another pause before he continues in a heavy timbre, “I know athletes, and very few are good, honest men. I just hope that Noah is one of the few for your sake.”
My teeth pinch my lip as thick, hot tears bite at my eyes, threatening to spill from my lashes. I blink them away to stop them from falling down my face. “I hope so, too, Sin.”
"Listen, I need to go. With the Wolves in Townsville this weekend, I need to hit the gym and go through my recovery plan. Coach will be checking in later today, so I need to prepare. I’ll call you tomorrow after therapy.”
I smile grimly before saying goodbye and hanging up the phone. Pulling the door open, expecting someone to be waiting for me, I find the doorway empty.
Frowning, I look around quickly. Gran is still out for her morning walk with her friends, which gave me some time to myself. I like that she has some friends she can be social with, especially with Grandad no longer around.
My eyes flicker onto the red ute parked in Noah’s driveway before blinking away.
Going to close the door, I peer down at the brown welcome mat to see an iced latte sitting in a clear plastic cup with a straw propped up against it.
Bending down, I pick it up and read the small note taped to the front.
I thought you could use some proper caffeine. And it’s also a thank you for helping me this week. #34
I don’t bother hiding the overconsuming grin that spreads across my heated cheeks. Shutting the door behind me, I lean my back against it, letting out a steady breath as I stare at his neat handwriting.
With a racing pulse, I slide my phone out of my pocket and pull up my messages with him and shakily type one out, being careful not to drop either my phone or the coffee.
ME: Thank you for the coffee. You really didn’t have to.
I sit down on the couch in the living room when my phone dings loudly.
#34: You’re welcome, Grey. Was getting Jade and I one and thought you could use one, too. Took a stab at what you’d like.
My stomach flutters at the idea of him thinking about me. I don’t think I mentioned to him that I have a slight obsession with iced lattes, but somehow, he knew.
ME: And you just happened to know my go-to order?
Sipping on the straw, I watch the bubbles type, disappear and then his message appears, making my skin heat all over.
#34: I may have asked the waitress there.
ME: I’ll have torepay you then.
#34: You never need to owe me anything, Grey.
#34: I just wanted to do something for you, and I hope this makes you happier.
My smile falters, teeth biting down on the plastic straw when those words echo in my mind. ‘I just wanted to make you happier’stirs through my brain like a threatening drumbeat.
Gulping down the forming lump wedged in my throat. Anxiety crawls up my skin like spiders dancing along my limbs as the swirling clouds of torment consume my mind. Chest quickening, eye clamping shut, breathing increasing, hands beginning to tremble at Ryan’s ghost words that still affect me after three years.
Nobody else will want you now.
No man wants something that’s used like you.
