Page 80 of Pretty Broken Wings
For a minute, I think both of us are thinking about killing him. And then, Raven lets out a long breath. “I got a basket; what do you need?”
Right. Grocery shopping.
Fuck.
How can I focus on something like grocery shopping when my hands are still humming with energy?
Then, I feel Raven moving around me, and immediately, I follow her like she has her own gravitational pull. She’s walking further into the store.
Right. ‘Cause we’re shopping.
For a bit, I tell her what we need while I try to calm my body down. I must black out because soon we’re at the dog food section, and Raven’s telling me the bag won’t fit in the basket.
I heave it over my shoulder. For a brief second, I wonder if Raven will be impressed. Then, I shake my head. What the fuck is wrong with me?
As I calm down, all I can feel is massive relief that she didn’t get hurt.
I am absolutely a glutton for punishment. In the end, it doesn’t matter that Raven hates my guts and thinks that I’m my brother; I’ll still protect her with everything I have.
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
Gage and I finish out the trip in an awkward silence. I’m not sure what got into me with that douche. I’m not usually a fighter, but I feel like I’ve completely lost it. Despite that, I felt a sense of… safety that goes beyond any logic. I’ve never had someone back me up in a fight before.
And, of course, it had to be the fucking asshole who’s trying to blackmail me into keeping his brother out of jail.
Still, I can’t get rid of the annoying warmth in my chest.
Going back into Gage’s house with Buddy makes me feel this sense of familiarity. The sunken living room with the flower couches looks the same as it always has. The clock is still ticking loudly in the hall. Buddy still mouth-breathes and follows me to the fridge.
It’s the same, but it’s not. Because somewhere between the car and the shopping, I decided I have a plan. And that plan is to survive until I have enough money to leave. Start my life afresh.
I start to put groceries away, then realize I have no idea where anything goes. Gage takes over quietly, putting things away in practiced motions. Sometimes, he feels a bag up and asks me what it is.
There are a few items that I blush and take from him.
I grabbed those. Those are mine. I throw one in the freezer and take the other. It’s too big to fit in my waistband, where my envelope of cash is. Will Gage question me?
He doesn’t.
Once the groceries are put away, I put my item in my room, but I keep the cash with me. I won’t be letting that out of my sight. I float, unsure of what to do. The house is warm, so warm, and I realize I’m exhausted. And hungry and thirsty and fucking smelly.
Gage doesn’t allow that for long though, knocking on my door with some snacks and water. Then he tells me he has a few files he wants to go over, as if everything is normal and it’s just another workday.
It’s not. It’s anything but that. But for now, I don’t argue. I just sit down and dig into the snacks, patting Buddy as we get to work.
We fall into a quiet kind of rhythm, pretending like nothing else has happened. Like I don’t smell like days’ worth of BO. Like one of my hands isn’t swollen to hell, and the other isn’t coveredin a half-done acrylic set. Like Axel didn’t fucking kidnap me, and his brother didn’t bribe me to keep my mouth shut.
It’s all too much to think about.
So I don’t. In this moment where I don’t have to fight for basic rights, I allow myself to zone out. To let that blessed fog descend over my brain. Every time I finish a snack, Gage shoves another at me.
In the evening, I stand to go to the door to go home.
“Please stay here,” Gage says.
I grip my keys so hard they cut into my hands. If this idiot thinks I’m staying, then he’s dumber than I originally thought.
Gage’s voice softens. “I can’t promise Axel won’t…show up.”
