Page 39 of Poison Vows

I have no intention of playing victim anymore or allow myself to keep being trampled on by selfish, greedy, malicious people.

And honestly, what’s wrong with me that I don’t love myself enough to move on from those who don’t love me?

I need to act.

How do I mess up all his shit, get my brother back, and walk away unscathed?

Hastily wiping my tears, I grab my phone and try my brother, but the number doesn’t even connect, so I call Grammy.

“So… you’re still alive out there, it seems,” she says in a clipped tone.

My heart leaps into my throat. Does she know?

“Grammy, of course I’m alive.” I laugh then wince when I hear how forced and high-pitched it sounds.

“Is everything all right out there?” she demands.

I can just about visualize her with a hand on her hip, a little scowl on her face as she removes her glasses as if it made her hear better.

“Everything’s going well so far,” I lie.

“Then why are you calling?”

“Whoa, Grammy! Am I not allowed to call you at all?”

“Not when you sound like one of them emotionless AI whatever! What’s wrong with you? Are you sick?”

Wait, do I sound weird? I was drugged last night, maybe that substance is still in my system, but there’s no way I’m telling Grammy about that.

“No, not at all,” I say cheerfully. “I’m as healthy as a horse, Grammy! I just called to check in on you! How are you?”

“Busy.”

“Grammy!”

“Hey, unlike someone, I have a social life! I’m legitimately busy!”

I laugh, knowing that it’s true. Grammy has a very vibrant social life, far better than mine.

“When are you coming back?” she questions, and I pause, not knowing how to answer that. “I was just about to call you.”

“Really?” I mutter, my heart pounding hard in my chest. “Is everything okay with you?”

I can’t tell her about the deep hole I’m in right now when she specifically told me to forget about my mother, stay away from Emmett, and focus instead on moving forward.

“Of course it is! Can’t I just call you?”

I chuckle, about to say something petty, but then that train of thought is cut off by her next words. “I can’t reach your brother for the past three days now. That is unlike him. Have you heard from him?”

Oh no. Grammy’s sixth sense is tingling.

“Oh?” I fake-laugh again, but it sounds believable. “You know him and his top-secret nonsense. He’ll probably call you soon.”

“You think so? I didn’t sleep very well last night,” Grammy says in a gentle, concerned tone that makes my knees grow weak. “Are you sure you’re all right, baby? You know you can always come back home at any time, right?”

Tears well up in my eyes, as a tingling sensation blooms in my chest.

“Grammy…”

---