Page 120 of Guilty Minds
Baldy groans and writhes to life on the ground. Caroline rushes toward him. “Alfonso, what did they do to you?”
I raise a brow—the asshole was about to take a bat to my face, and now she makes it sound like we’re the bad guys here. The second goon limps from the bushes. “Let’s get the fuck out of here." Caroline helps Baldy stand up, and he limps to the car.
“Good choice. And never come back,” Justin growls, grabbing Caroline's elbow as they pass by. "Nevercome back. You got it?” Identifying the true ringleader, he addresses Caroline with the same emotionless expression that I still fear sometimes. Caroline nods, and they all climb into their car.
Soon, it’s only the two of us left.
The air is starting to feel weird. The memory of the last time I saw him washes over me, and I feel a ping in my chest that wasn’t there for a long time.
“Kayla.” He exhales my name as if a prayer, and it reaches that damn ache in my chest, soothing it. “I didn’t do that.” I shoot him an accusatory glare, but he continues. “I didn’t do that. When you left… fuck.” He wipes his face with his hands. “When you left, I couldn’t figure out what happened. No one told me. No one.”
“Sounds familiar,” I whisper, though with no malice.
“Yeah, it does.” He smiles sadly. “That night, what you saw… that wasn't what happened."
“It’s pretty difficult to interpret any differently, Justin. There was a naked woman in your bed with you.” Against my will, I recall the picture I’ve been trying so hard to forget.
He sighs. “That’s partially my fault.”
“Partially?” My voice rises.
His gaze grows agitated. “Yeah, I know what you think.”
“Stop telling me what I think!” I snap at him.
"Let me finish then!" His voice grows louder, too.
“Stop playing around and just spit it out already!”
He groans and turns on his heel. "Fuck, I forgot how infuriating you can be." He turns back and explains, "It's my fault because I should have explained how bad my insomnia is to you."
“What does that have to do with this?”
“Everything. When Alicia—” He cuts himself off. “Whenthat nighthappened, I had so much fucking guilt in my head that I couldn’t sleep even for a minute. And that continued happening for days. Then months. Then years. I’d go days without sleep and then crash for hours, even days, completely dead to the world.”
“Like you did after our first kiss?” I half-ask, half-confirm what I’ve already heard from Freya.
“Yes, like after our first kiss.”
“Why did you never say anything?” My anger has simmered down a little—I'm well acquainted with guilt. We're old pals.
His cheeks pinken. “Because it’s embarrassing.”
“What is? That you have insomnia?” Surely, I haven’t heard him right.
“That such a small thing can knock me down dead. That’s what. I’m not used to being weak. I hate that." His voice turns raspy, like he's truly embarrassed by his condition—something he can't control. “Those knocked-out hours were a fuckin’ nightmare in jail. No one gives a shit about your internal clock there—everyone lives by the clock on the wall.”
My jaw drops down. “How did you hide it from me so well?”
“Because when I’m with you, I can sleep. Like,reallysleep.” He’s watching me intensely.
“Wow.” I slowly look him up and down. “I’m sorry. You look like shit, by the way.”
“Thanks, baby.” He chuckles. “I haven’t slept in months. Well, I crashed, but it’s not the same thing.” My heart skips a beat at his “baby,” and I try to squash it.
“Doesn’t really explain anything.”
"Right." He scratches his chin, which looks to have a three-day beard, and it looks awfully sexy on him. “I crashed that night, and that woman you saw—she was in town, and we used to hook up years ago.”
