Page 76 of Escaping Our Reality

What. The. Hell.

I square my shoulders and lift my chin. “You’re being obtuse. Of course, I wouldn’t take these pills. These pills took my sister away from me. These pills ruined your chance at a childhood. They’re vile and repulsive.”

In less than a second, he’s on the bed, pulling me onto his lap, cradling me. I don’t even mind that he smells like sweat and oil and Harlan’s tobacco. “Then why? Why buy them? Why have them here?”

I shrug. “Lots of reasons. I wanted to see how easy it was. I wanted to know what Carrie felt like the first time she came here and bought these dumb things. I wanted to look at them. To try and figure out what makes Carrie so different from me.” I raise my head and look into his haunted pale green eyes. “Am I really different from her, Ry? If I took those pills right now, would I become an addict like Carrie? Why does it happen for somepeople and not others? Why couldn’t she avoid it? Why couldn’t she resist it?”

He strokes my hair, trying to place my body into a patterned rhythm, allowing the repetitive motion to calm me. Eventually my tears subside, leaving my eyelids swollen and raw.

His voice soothes my rattled nerves. “I don’t know the answers. If you and I took those drugs right now, we might both be fine. Or I may become an addict and not you. Or vice-versa. I have no idea. All I know is that you and I are strong enough not to tempt those fates.”

Tugging my chin, he places his lips on mine. Not kissing me, but just connecting. I love it when he does this. When he acts like he can’t function in the world unless he tethers himself to me.

His breath smells like toothpaste.

I can’t believe I just cried in front of him. And I’m not even embarrassed.

Running his hand down my back and over the roundness of my ass, he eventually pulls away and smiles. “Have you been blowing your nose in my underwear?”

I look down at the crumpled boxer briefs in my hand. “Yes. Yes, I have.”

His laugh is contagious, making me giggle. He tugs me from the bed. “Come on.”

“Where are we going?”

“We’re gonna flush those pills down the toilet and get you something to drink. Your body is burning up; you need to cool down. And we’re definitely gonna throw my underwear in the washing machine.”

Once he gets me settled at the small kitchen table, he hands me a bottle of water and a package of crackers. “Eat. Drink.” He leans forward, kissing me on the crown of my head.

He turns away, but not before I see the kind smile on his face disappear. His jaw twitches, and he twists his neck to both sides,stretching it. A low growl rumbles from his chest as he turns the corner, leaving the room.

Worry escalates in my heart. “Where are you going?”

“I’m gonna kill my piece of shit brother for selling drugs to my girl.”

Chapter 32

ELLA

Three punches.

It could’ve been way worse.

Harlan and I were only a step behind Ry, but he still landed a solid three punches on his brother before we pulled him off. Not that weactuallypulled Ry off his brother. Ry is stronger than ten of me and Harlan put together. He just stopped fighting because he was worried about one of us getting hurt instead. And of course, Trash is too thin and weak from partying to be any sort of match for Ry. Fortunately, the gas station was empty except for one guy over by the slushie machine. And he looked like a regular, if you catch my drift.

Apparently, I’m more of a bitch than I previously thought because my heart actually got all warm and fuzzy when I saw Trash’s bloody nose and blackening eye.

Hours have gone by since then. The body shop closed for the night and Harlan went home. Ry is currently in the shower, and I am responding to a text message from Kristie. She’s texting to say she is going to stay at my house tonight. Again. She’s taking full advantage of my ‘vacation’ with Ry to escape from her father’s controlling hand.

My attention is quickly diverted when a gray car, with a damaged front end, parks next to Ry’s truck. A brown-headed woman in extremely tight jeans and a T-shirt that is two sizes too small walks over to the open bay of the garage.

I stand to my feet, straightening my spine. “May I help you?”

Her voice is scratchy. “Is Crutch here?”

“He’s occupied right now. I’m sorry, ma’am, but the body shop has closed for the day. I’ll be happy to take your name and phone number so Harlan or Crutch can call you when the shop re-opens in the morning.”

She takes a step closer to me, sizing me up. Immediately, I lift my chin, doing the same to her. She’s petite. Probably only an inch or two over five feet. Her hair needs a washing, her face needs a scrubbing, and her stomach needs some of that gas station fried chicken. Other than that, she’s pretty. Her age is hard to read. Thirties? Forties? Maybe, this side of the county has it right. Maybe grunge and whore-chic is the next big thing, and I’m the one who’s missing out.

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