Page 45 of Shattered Lives

Dark thoughts return to rear their ugly heads, whispering enticingly.

That explosion could have killed me. It killed Rivers. He was right next to me. Thomas, Varnes, Carswell, and Dillon – they all died.

Maybe I’d be better off dead, too.

Instead of automatically dismissing the thought, I allow myself to consider it.

Giving up.

Giving in.

Letting go.

The idea seduces me.

No more pain.

No more misery.

No more self-loathing.

No more uselessness.

Just… quiet.

Nothingness.

Peace.

It sounds good.

But after a brief moment, I shove the idea from my mind. I can’t do that to Charlie. She’s lost too much already. All we have left is each other.

But rejecting that choice comes at a steep price. Without the option of death as a path to freedom, my only alternative is being trapped in this misery forever. The likelihood of years or even decades condemned to unending, hopeless torment crushes my heart in an invisible fist.

I close my eyes and throw my arm over my face, praying Lila and Tucker run out of gas or forget to come by. I just want to be alone.

The thought has literally no sooner crossed my mind than I hear the rumble of a diesel engine.

Fuck.

CHAPTER TEN

CHARLIE

I’ve no sooner melted into unconsciousness than the growl of Tucker’s big truck rouses me. I stagger to my feet and meet them at the door. "Sorry we’re early," Tucker apologizes, "but Lila practically knocked me down in her excitement to get to Mark." He carries a covered platter and a large bowl to the kitchen. "If I weren’t so secure, I'd be jealous."

Tucker is one of my favorite people. He’s tall, over six feet, with broad shoulders, golden brown hair that curls against his wishes, and dark blue eyes that are usually twinkling with mischief. He’s sweet, loyal, and completely dedicated to taking care of the people he loves. It was his idea to install the camera in my foyer to transmit to his and Lila’s laptops and phones so they could help with my night terrors. He’s also a goofball, guaranteed to liven up any situation.

Lila follows him, unloading canvas bags on the island. She pulls scrubbed potatoes from one and places them on a baking pan before sliding them into the oven. She glances over her shoulder, pulling an assortment of containers from another bag. "I cooked bacon for the potatoes and salad and made red wine vinaigrette. The garlic bread is ready to bake, and the steaks are marinating. Tucker, put the salad in the refrigerator and the steaks on the counter to come to room temperature," she directs before turning excitedly to me. "Where is he?"

I grin. "Lying down. Let me see if he's awake."

"I've got this," Tucker insists, heading down the hall.

"If he's asleep, don't you dare wake him," Lila scolds.

“I’ve waited long enough to see him. His ass is mine.”

---