I couldn’t believe that I’d actually said everything I had. It wasn’t me. I didn’t get into arguments. I didn’t cause drama. I’d done enough of that in high school to last the rest of my life. I’d avoided it at all costs since.
So, why the hell had I decided to go off the rails all of a sudden? I had to assume it was just a response to everything happening around me. Having to pack all my important stuff up, being in forced proximity to Draco, seeing that fucking cop again, the fires and the possibility of Charlie’s childhood home being destroyed, all of it was just too much. I was smart to go back to my parents’ house and disconnect for a little while. I needed it.
I was patting myself on the back as I waved to the security camera and let myself into my parents’ house. A little time in the quiet, in my old bedroom, surrounded by books and the familiar scent of home was just what I needed. Dropping my bag of clothes and toiletries on the floor, I strode across the room and flopped down onto the bed.
Brody wanted my room so bad, and I was suddenly really glad that my dad and Rose hadn’t let him move in there yet. He and Jamison shared the only other bedroom besides the master, but Rose had been adamant that they didn’t get to have their own rooms yet. She said it was because it forced them to share and get along, but I was pretty sure she just wanted to make sure that I knew I still had a place in their house. She’d even bought me a new bed for my apartment so that I could leave my old twin bed in my room at home.
Closing my eyes, I tried to relax, but it wasn’t working. Memories that I willed away on a normal day kept forcing themselves forward. The look on Draco’s face when we discovered a boy at school had taken a video of me topless. The tense set of his shoulders as he led me and Charlie out of school. The way he’d beaten the boy who’d taken the video, no hesitation or remorse, even after he was through.
How protected I’d felt. How guilty. How scared I’d been later.
Sitting up, I kicked off my shoes and let out a long breath, but I couldn’t stop the memories.
The police showing up at Draco’s house to arrest him. The look of relief on his face when he was let out on bail. The tense months that followed, waiting for his court date. Pacing the house because my parents wouldn’t allow me to go to court. The minute my dad had walked in the door, the look on his face as he’d given me the news.
“Nope,” I said out loud, refusing to allow the trip down memory lane to go a single step further.
Grabbing my toiletry bag, I pulled a random book off my shelf and stomped across the hall to the bathroom. The house was silent and I was going to take a bath with the lavender Epsom salts that smelled like heaven and my stepmom always kept stocked. I was going to read and relax and escape my own goddamn mind.
Fifteen minutes later, I’d succeeded. The good thing about being such a bookworm was that I’d read so many books that when I did a re-read, if it had been a few years, it was almost like reading a story for the first time. Even if I remembered the basic plot points, I never remembered the small things. It was enough to keep me distracted from what was happening outside the humid bathroom and inside my own memories.
A noise from the front of the house made me pause and look up from my book. Was someone knocking? I froze, listening. After a minute of no other sounds, I fell back into the story.
I nearly jumped out of my skin a few minutes later when someone knocked on the bathroom door.
“Kara,” Draco called.
He didn’t say anything else. Just my name.
As I scrambled out of the tub, I accidentally knocked my book into the water and slipped, hitting my elbow hard on the toilet lid. It didn’t even slow me down as I practically dove for a towel.
“What are you doing here?” I asked once I’d securely wrapped it around myself.
“Open the door.”
My eyes widened at his tone. “Give me a second,” I called back, pulling my clothes on. I was still damp and it took me twice as long because everything stuck to me.
“What?” I asked, flinging open the door. My mouth dropped open. “What the fuck happened?”
His hair was a mess. He had a black eye and a busted lip. There was a long scratch along his jaw and the neck of his t-shirt was so stretched out I was pretty sure it was ruined. As I took stock, I glanced at his hands. The knuckles were swollen and bloody.