Page 117 of Give Me Redemption

I hate her for it, but I hate myself more. I was blind. I was such a fool.

And I don’t hate her.

I pray for that to come. I want the hate, because it would be so much easier to hate that woman.

But then my mind does something stupid. It remembers the sweet moments I had with her. The way she felt underneath me and the way she looked at me as she sank down on top of me.

I know that was real.

Wasn’t it?

My mind and heart are fighting. I don’t know what’s wrong and right anymore.

“Bryce’s hearing is in an hour.”

Oh. This is news to me. I look around. Shit, I need to get this place cleaned. I talk over my smoke. “I’ll clean up and wash the sheets.”

“You think he’ll come home?” she asks.

“I don’t see why not. He isn’t a flight risk. He got into some shit as a kid, but Pops helped with all that.”

She nods as her eyes go over to the bottle of bourbon on the counter. “Can I have a drink?”

I run a hand over the back of my neck, lifting a brow. She wants a drink?

Why the hell not?

“Yeah,” I say, walking over to the counter. I pour both of us a glass before handing hers over. Harrison looks down at the brown liquid, and I wonder what she is thinking.

How did I get mixed up with this crazy-ass family? My boyfriend’s in prison, it’s his brother’s fault, who’s a complete screw-up, and I’m standing here, having a shot of liquor with him.

We’re something else.

“To life,” I say, holding up my glass. “May it fuck you less than it’s fucked me.”

She smirks. “You obviously don’t know anything about mine.” We toss back the drink, and she wipes her mouth with the back of her hand before looking over at me.

Really looking at me.

I’m sure I’m a sight.

Hungover. High.

I’m what heartbroken looks like.

But she doesn’t look great either. Dark circles underline her eyes. She’s lost weight and looks like she’s carrying a ton of bricks.

“You all right?” I ask.

“I should be asking you that,” she says.

I take a drag from my smoke, thinking back on the last week. It went from ecstasy to pure hell. I’m not proud of myself for how I treated Dalton. Even though she deserved it.

It hurt me to treat her like that, and after I walked out of her apartment, I heard something shatter against the door. I stood there for a moment, leaning back against the hall wall. My chest hurt. Not a hurt I can describe, really. It just hurt.

“It hasn’t been a good few days,” I tell Harrison.

Her eyes bounce back to the cocaine. “This all you been doing?”

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