Page 18 of Word to the Wise

“You can always get new things.” Lyla shakes her head. “Or your brother can have the guys go get yours. Thatisn’t important. You got out, and that means you brought the only thing that matters. Yourself.”

Myself, and the ever-present ghost of Carter, rattling around in my heart.

Her hands pause on the clothes, and she looks at me.

“Did you bring any makeup?” I feel like a coward for even asking because it’s just another way I hide from reality. Still, I don’t like walking around this raw. Where everyone can see all my secrets.

Lyla nods, digging to the bottom of the bag. “Foundation, eyeshadow, mascara. The basics.”

She sets them on the bed beside me, and I gather them.

“Thanks.” She found a tone that matches my skin, which is a shade warmer than hers. Which means she must have asked around the girls at the clubhouse.

It won’t hide my eye, but at least it will do something. It’s always the worst when he bursts blood vessels in my eyes. They take a couple of weeks to fade, and I’d be confined to the apartment I shared with him so I wouldn’t be seen.

The isolation was nearly as bad as the punishment.

I wasn’t allowed access to my own money.

Friends.

He’d come home or he wouldn’t. And I lived in that hell, while on the outside, everyone assumed I was Carter’s fairytale princess.

Lyla nods, her eyes glossing over. “Sorry, I’m just emotional. Pregnancy hormones.”

“At least you’ve got an excuse.”

Between the nightmares and sporadic crying fits, I wish I had a reason other than the fact that I stayed too long with the wrong man.

Standing up, I make my way to the mirror and start coating my cheeks with foundation. If I wasn’t a journalist, maybe I’d be a makeup artist. I’ve become a professional at hiding things. Slowly skating from one bruise to the next, I watch them disappear. One by one, I erase the truth of what Carter did.

When I’m done, I almost look like myself. I’m presentable, except for the blood pooling in the white of my left eye. It’s the best I can do until it fades. It will get worse like it always does, and eventually, it’ll get better.

The same can’t be said for the bruises and scars no one sees beneath the surface.

Lyla walks over to me and grabs my hand, offering a sad smile as she stares at me through the mirror.

“It’ll be okay, Reed. Maybe not today. And maybe not next week or next month. But eventually, it will be okay. I promise. We’ll get through this together.”

“Has Sage heard from Carter?” I swallow, and the lump in my throat feels like concrete sitting there.

Lyla’s lips purse, and I can tell she doesn’t want to answer, but she will out of loyalty to me. Which is why I asked her and not my brother.

“Carter called him this morning.” She squeezes my hand. “Sage dealt with it.”

I’m sure he did—for now. But just like the makeup covering my bruises, it’s a temporary fix.

Lyla might be right; this might all work out eventually. I’m just not sure how bad it’s going to hurt trying to get there. Or how much more I can take.

6

Mason

I hate being atthe shop when I could be upstairs with Reed. But if anything will calm me down right now, it’s tattooing. The one thing I enjoy.

The career my family disowned me over.

The Zane last name controls the most exclusive casinos in Las Vegas. My family has the kind of money you bleed from your pores and don’t have to think about. When I was younger, I thought I’d follow in those footsteps. But the older I got, the more my eyes were opened to the possibility of chasing things I cared about. And even if I didn’t want to disappoint my mom, the last person I wanted to be was my father.

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