Anger rippled beneath my flesh and nausea swirled in my stomach.
Hot and sticky.
My hand curled around my phone as Melanie continued to ramble about making an official statement, like this was just any other day or any other article.
Took me a second to realize it wasn’t my own growl hitting the air when the sound ripped through the room.
I looked up just in time to see Royce’s mouth curl in fury.
Richard scoffed.
Super loud.
“What bullshit. Rhys and I ran into Maggie at the coffee shop yesterday. I was the one who convinced him to stop by, and Maggie was already there. We offered her a ride and Rhys helped her into the car. Simple as that. Gettin’ sick of the fabricated stories to make a buck. That shit should be illegal.”
He stole a glance at me as he said it.
Dude had my back.
While I sat there feeling like I was gonna come out of my skin.
“As long as there are people hungry for that garbage, they’re gonna continue feedin’ it to them,” Mel said, nonchalant. “Besides, I doubt y’all would have that much use for me if I didn’t have to fend off these stories, anyway. But I know now that you have families, you want to keep things a little more private. I’ll try to temper this so people won’t come sniffin’ around. Now, about tomorrow’s practice…”
They continued on like nothing had happened.
Like Royce wasn’t looking at me like he was figuring out exactly where he was going to bury my body.
Rest of practice passed in a painful, awkward way. I couldn’t tap back into the vibe. My heart wasn’t in it. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to go to the girl and apologize for what they’d said or stay far, far away.
Far, far away would be the correct answer.
What I needed to do was take away the opportunity to even look at her because even that was leadin’ to all sorts of indecent things.
Then that disquiet became fucking unbearable when my phone blipped with a message.
This feeling takin’ me over before I even looked at it.
The dread that had been drip, drip, dripping into my bloodstream suddenly gathered to a flashflood.
Warily, I clicked into it, just knowing, anxiety so heavy and dense that I knew it couldn’t be anything else.
It was the same picture as the article, the one where I had my hand on Maggie’s waist. But what was most noticeable was the expression I was sporting that had gone missin’ a long, long time ago.
The message behind it was simple.
Nothing but pure hate.
Knew she had a name. Maggie Fitzgerald.
All it took was the same accusation he’d made at the bar back in Dalton to send rage blistering through my body. It blew and battered against the fear until it became a burning ball inside me.
Tight. Wicked. Abhorrent. Ripping up and down my spine like a lion pacing its cage.
Threatening to get loose.
My breaths came in ragged heaves.
I itched.
Wanting to stand up and run out.
Fucking fight but knowing I had nothing to offer.
No right.
Just like I’d told Maggie, no matter how badly I wished it was different, I didn’t have anything to offer her.
Just because she has a name doesn’t mean she matters. She’s no different than all the rest. She’s no one. She means nothing. She’s just another fuck.
Wanted to puke when I tapped out the vile words. Of course, she was different. But my hands were tied. Nothing I could do. It was the only way to protect the girl from the wrath I could feel gathering. Getting stronger.
My debts finally coming due.
It didn’t take all that long for him to respond.
You think I don’t see it? Don’t play me for a fool.
My teeth ground as I tapped out a warning around the terror.
Have given you everything I have. What more do you want from me?
A second later, the response blipped through.
You think you’ve atoned for what you did? I warned you. For years. Now, it’s time to pay.
Thought I was probably gasping out my rage and fear when I typed the next text.
This is my debt to pay. No one else’s. Stay the fuck away from her and stay the fuck away from my mama, or you’re going to discover what pain really means. Now tell me what you want so we can end this.
It blipped through with another message a second later.
It’s not over. Not as long as you’re still breathing.
Grief stormed through my being.
It clashed with the guilt.
Dark and sinister.
Stealing joy.
Stealing power.
As much as I hated the prick, as much of a psycho as he was, he was right in one regard: I didn’t get this—didn’t get to find joy when I’d stolen hers.
Genny.
Her face flashed.
Smiles.
Kisses.
Hope.
Horror.
Agony speared through me.
Dull, rusted blades that cut me in two.
Maybe I should have stayed away. Taken the warnings as true threats. But I hadn’t known how to let it go. How to give up that guilt or give up on her.