Page 147 of Unspoken Truths

Looking down at my suitcase and then him, I feel as if we’re speaking two different languages. Why…

“Dad is making me do my own laundry now, so I figured I’d do yours as well,” he explains. “Being your self proclaimed slave means washing your clothes, cleaning your room and bathroom, and whatever else you want.”

“I don’t know what to make of that. Why? Is this because my mom said you had to?” I ask.

A part of me will be disappointed if the answer is yes.

“No, it’s because it’s a place to start,” he says. “I’ll never be able to make it up to you. If I want you to know that I’m serious, I have to make you take notice.”

Shaking my head, I decide I’m really dense.

“Explain this to me as if I’m a five year old,” I tell him. “I’m not understanding where you’re going with this.”

He’s in the middle of changing, wearing low slung joggers that make my mouth dry. There’s so much gorgeous, tanned skin pulled tightly over muscles that go forever. God, he even had that insane V that disappears into his pants.

It should be illegal for him to go without a shirt.

His footsteps move almost as if they were in slow motion, telegraphing his next move. His thumb pushes my chin up as he cups my face, his gray eyes intent and serious.

“Alright,nena,” he rasps, his head dipping to brush my lips with his. I’m shocked, my eyes wide as I freeze. “If things were different, and I didn’t fuck everything up so badly, I would be in your bed every night. Every kiss you give Lili would be shared with me. I’m uncontrollably attracted to you, my soul is linked to yours. I’ll do anything I can for you to give me a chance.”

Shooting his shot, his lips brush against mine again, filled with promises I don’t know if he can keep. My heels threaten to rise so I can get more pressure, a deeper kiss, something before he backs away and my mind tells me what a bad idea this is.

“Words mean nothing, so I’ll show you,” he promises before returning to his room.

God, I might just fucking fall over.

Forcing myself to walk, though it’s wobbly, I go into my room, feeling how vacant it seems even though I was only gone for a week and a half.

Shit, if this is my stepbrother’s starting position, I don’t even want to know how far he’s willing to go. Closing the door behind me, I lock it, though I know they don’t mean much in this house. Taking the time to wait until I’m in the bathroom, I undress as I firmly tell myself that I will not fold.

Nacio Reyes is not good for my continued health.

* * *

Talkingto Barrett makes me feel worse than I thought. While he’s not blaming me for how I reacted in the moment, he is definitely laying into me right now.

“You’re falling into destructive paths,” he says. “Taking a vacation after a traumatic experience is running away, Rachelle.”

“I don’t think it was,” I reply. “I needed space from the boys. They tried to kill me, Barrett. The police aren’t a possibility in this world.”

“What world?” he scoffs. “The one where your voices tell you to run? Giving in to them gives them power.”

“No,” I deny. “I took a pause on my life to be able to regroup. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“You’re a very spoiled rich girl who believes she’s being treated unfairly,” he says. “Bullying happens in any educational institution, Rachelle. Get thicker skin. I really think it’s time to revisit medication.”

“What? That doesn’t make any sense!” I yell.

I feel gaslighted right now. He listened to my entire story, and began to turn everything around. Barrett used to be much more understanding.

Why the change? The paranoia in my mind is riding me hard, and I don’t know what to do.

Fuck.

Picking up my phone as my breaths begin to heave and I feel out of control, I text nine-one-one to my stepfather.

“Hey, we agreed to no cell phones during a session,” Barrett says. “If you can’t be serious about this, then I’ll have to discuss a more structured plan.”

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