Page 112 of Dare To Live

You’re so wet. I bet my dick could slide right in without any foreplay at all. Is your clit aching? Does it need to be touched?

A good memory entwined with so many bad ones. A glimmer of light in the dark.

I put the top on the floor and reach for the next item. My hand closes around something solid, and I lift my old jewelry box free. It’s one of the few things that I took with me from my old house before we moved to the Hamptons. I open the lid, my attention sweeping over the jewelry inside, and stop on a bracelet.

My friendship bracelet. I pick it up, and twist the colored band between my fingers, the three charms gleaming in the light. A butterfly, four-leaf clover, and a tiny heart. Amanda had made this for me. My best friend before my mom had remarried Eli’s dad.

How long has it been since I thought about her?

Where are you now, Amanda?

We lost contact during my year here. I didn’t bother to reach out to her when it was clear she had no interest in staying in my life.

The jewelry box goes on the floor. Another quick rummage and some old postcards join it. There are a couple of notebooks, pens, hair ties, and more pieces of stray clothing. Right at the bottom of the box, I find a blindfold. My heart leaps into my throat.

Sin.

Even when things were fucked up, Sin had been the one good thing here. He kept me sane. Gave me pleasure and made me brave. A secret in the dark, which I’d reveled in night after night.

My nemesis and my savior.

Chapter 62

Eli

The second the door swings open, my gaze goes to the bed on the right of the room. The sheets are pulled back, folded neatly halfway down the mattress. Of course, no one is there. I didn’t really expect there to be, and yet there’s still a hollow sense of disappointment in the pit of my stomach.

My steps are heavy as I walk inside and let the door close behind me. It feels like a prison door clanging shut, locking me inside, and trapping me with memories that weigh me down. The back of my eyes burn and there’s a throbbing in my temple. I ignore it all and switch my attention to the bed on the left. The one I’d always used. They’re both still queen-sized, but I can see both the base and mattress have been replaced. They used to be plain wooden frames, but these are metal with black headboards. The mattresses seem thicker, raising the height of the bed. I turn and sit on the edge of it and focus on the rest of the room.

There’s a small table with three chairs, two dressers and a double closet. One of the doors is open and there are two boxes, one stacked on top of the other. I’m not ready to open them yet. I’m not sure I ever will be. Pushing to my feet, I walk into the bathroom. Everything inside is new and shining. A walk-in shower, a separate bathtub, chrome and white marble. No expense spared.

My lips twist.

Money has never been a problem at Churchill Bradley. It was used to hide the horrors that went on, ignored by staff and students alike … until it couldn’t be hidden any longer.

I press the heel of my hand against my forehead and close my eyes.

Pull yourself together. Open the boxes. Let’s see what shit we thought was important to our eighteen-year-old selves.

“I don’t want to.”

Don’t be a pussy, Eli. It’s just stuff.

I feel like an old man when I cross to the closet. The door swings wide on silent hinges and I pick up the top box.

My name is written across the top in black marker. I tear off the packing tape and fold back the flaps.

Three hoodies are folded at the top. I take them out, one by one, and toss them on the bed. Beneath them are sketchbooks, art supplies, school textbooks and a framed photograph of me and Kellan. I take it out and stare at it.

We’re laughing toward the camera, arms across each other’s shoulders, sitting on the hood of his car. It’s not obvious from the shot, but we’re parked up on the beach.

I close my eyes, my heart faltering, leaving only pain in my chest.

“I miss you, Kell. Even after all this time.”

Your favorite hoodie isn’t here.

I frown down at the box. He’s … I’m … right. I was sure it had been left here when we were taken home. I lived in that hoodie. Until Arabella covered it in paint, anyway.

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