Page 41 of Wrecked
For weeks after that, I'd waited and waited, but, no one else came to visit. I'd even had a few run-ins with the guards because I believed that they weren't sending out my letters to Kenzie.
But none of that mattered now, 'cause today I was finally going to see my girl.
"You keep on going back and forth like that, you're gonna dig us a hole outta here." My cellmate, Logan quipped from where he was perched on the top bunk. "Hey man," he said when I didn't answer him. "She's gonna show."
If there ever was a silver lining to ending up in this hell hole, it was Logan. When I'd arrived, he was already six months into a three-year sentence. We'd become fast friends, and in a place like this, you needed all the friends you could get.
Still, I hadn't gone into detail over Kenzie, he just knew I had a girl on the outside and that it was serious for me.
The guard sauntered up to our cell, Cheshire cat grin in place. "Jackson," he called to Logan. "You have visitors." Every Saturday, without fail, his family showed up. It was the only time I envied him. Turning to me, the guard's smile turned sinister, "No one for you, yet, Carter."
My friend jumped off the bed and smacked my shoulder blade twice as he walked past me. Again, he repeated, "She's gonna show."
How wrong he'd been.
Visiting hours had come and gone and no Kenzie. My already lacerated heart took its final beating then. Reaching under my pillow, I pulled out the notepad and vowed to myself that that was the last letter I'd ever write to Kenzie Michaels.
Breathe.
I need to breathe. My head swiveled from side to side, and I swore I could see her everywhere. Standing in my doorway, wearing my shirt. Nibbling on the corner of her mouth while she pushed her hair behind her ear. Running her tongue over her lip right before she pressed her lips to mine.
"Shit!!" I cursed again.
After years and years of carefully guarding what was left of my heart, I'd dropped the ball, and it had been detrimental.
Bringing my hand up, I rubbed at my chest already knowing that nothing would soothe the ache inside. My gaze dropped to the mess surrounding me, and I caught sight of one little butterfly still intact. I reached forward to scoop it up.
Pushing to my feet, I returned it to its spot on my bookcase. Gently I brushed over its delicate blue wings, embracing the sting of betrayal and absolute devastation that I knew was coming.
Chapter 22
I stood in the doorway of my apartment, waiting for that relief at being home to settle into my bones.
It never came.
With a heavy sigh, I closed the door behind me, and after locking it, I threw my keys into the butterfly-shaped bowl that sat on the table next to the door. My heart constricted, and fresh tears filled my eyes.
My mind immediately went to Brett and how long it must've taken him to make all those tiny butterflies. The time and effort he'd spent on every little detail.
Brett.
I brushed the hot tears away, wishing it was as easy to wipe his image from my brain. Oh, how I'd hoped that that kiss would have been the start to our new beginning, our chance to reclaim what was stolen from us.
Why didn't he understand that I needed to do this? How could I have shared his bed when technically I was still another man's girlfriend? It didn't matter that Brett owned me, heart and soul, I still had to do what was right.
I pressed my palm between my breasts and begged for the ache to go away. Even just for a couple of minutes."Please?"
In a dreamlike state, I moved from the spacious living area into the kitchen. Like a zombie, I pulled a mug from the cupboard along with a chamomile tea bag. I started to fill the little kettle that sat atop my stove with water and stopped short.
The little window above my sink suddenly turned into a screen and rolling images of my short time in Willow Creek played out like a movie in front of me. Brett Carter front and center in every single frame. That very first ice-filled look. The determined way he'd marched up to me in the bar. My hands splayed on his chest. The way he'd cupped my cheeks and then finally the look in his hazel eyes right before he kissed me.
"Stop!" The kettle fell from my hands, water splashing everywhere. Immediately my hands moved to my eyes to cover them. It didn't work. The images just kept coming over and over again.
As the pain in my chest reached breaking point, my knees gave out, and I slid to the floor, landing in a miserable heap. My body convulsed with every soul-shattering sob that left it. I'd never felt pain like that in my life before, and I doubted I ever would again for it was surely going to break me.
I cried for I didn't know how long, but when I was certain there were no more tears left in me, I sucked in a breath and pushed to my feet. My bathroom that was just down the hall suddenly felt miles away, and I didn't know if I had enough strength left in me to drag my tired body there.
When I finally stood under the warm spray of water, a little clarity came. I had questions for my parents. Boy, did I have questions. They needed to make me understand why they did what they did.
