Page 27 of Wicked Scorn
“Jeremiah, you don’t get it,” she chokes out, her voice brittle like thin ice. “Every day, it’s...it’s like I’m clawing my way through dirt just to breathe, just to feel something otherthan…” Her words trail off into a sob, and her hands flutter to her face, fingers trembling.
“Oakley,” I start, voice low, desperately trying to bridge the gap between us. My skin itches to touch her. I reach out, my fingertips barely grazing the soft flesh of her arm. She flinches away from me as if scorched, her eyes darting up, twin pools of liquid pain.
“Please, don’t,” she whispers, wrapping her arms around herself like a shield. Her shoulders shake, and I can almost taste the salt from her tears in the back of my throat.
“Damn it, bunny.” The words are a growl, torn from somewhere deep inside me. I ball my hands into fists, fighting against the urge to pull her into my arms, to erase every foul thing that’s touched her. “I want to help you. Let me help you.”
Her laugh is a sharp crack in the stillness, bitter and jagged. “Help me?” There’s an edge to her voice that could draw blood. “What can you do, Jeremiah? Can you unmake the past? Can you?—”
“Stop it.” My voice cuts through the tension, hard and final. “Don’t fucking push me away.”
She bites down on her bottom lip, and for a heart-stopping moment, I think she might actually reach out to me, let me in. But then she’s moving, scooting back into her pillows, putting more space between us. She’s not even two years younger than me, but right here she looks so small and defeated. I’ve never seen her look this way before and it makes me want to burn the world down, starting with her fucking brother. I don’t care what shit happened between us, how fucking dare he abandon her.
“Oakley, look at me,” I demand, determination burning inmy eyes. “Tell me anything you can remember about who did this. I won’t let them get away with it.”
She hesitates, her gaze dropping to the comforter as if the weight of the world rests on her shoulders. The silence stretches between us, heavy and suffocating. Finally, she lifts her head, her eyes meeting mine full of fear.
“Why does it matter?” she whispers, her voice barely audible. “You’re just going to leave again. And then where will I be? I need to take care of myself.”
“That’s not true,” I counter, tightening my grip slightly to keep her from pulling away. “I’m not going anywhere, Oakley. Not until I make sure you’re safe.”
“Safe?” she scoffs, bitterness lacing her tone. “There’s no such thing as safe anymore.”
“Then I’ll create it for you,” I insist, my voice firm. “But I can’t do that unless you help me figure out who hurt you.” I pace back and forth before finally stopping.
“Oakley.” I utter, my own need raw and demanding. “Look at me. Please.”
For a long second, there’s nothing but the sound of our breathing, ragged and uneven. There’s a haunted look in her eyes that makes my chest ache, makes me want to tear down the whole damn world to make her whole again.
“Rem,” she breathes out, and it feels like a surrender. “I’m so tired. So lost…”
Fuck, this girl. This brave, broken girl who has always been my undoing. I lean closer, close enough to see the golden flecks in her blue eyes, close enough to feel the heat of her skin.
“Then let me be your compass, Oakley,” I say, fierce and unwavering. “Let me guide you home.”
But even as the words leave my mouth, I know they’re notenough. Not yet. Because the darkness that’s latched onto her soul won’t let go without a fight. And neither will I.
“I don’t know anything about him,” she admits, her voice trembling.
“Fuck,” I mutter under my breath, trying to control the rage boiling inside me. Someone dared to lay hands on her, to hurt her, and I will find him. I will make him pay.
“Jeremiah, please,” she says, her voice breaking. “Just let it go.”
“Not happening, Oakley,” I repeat, my jaw clenched. “I need to know what that bastard did to you. I won’t rest until I make him pay.”
“Why?” she asks, her eyes searching mine. “Why do you care so much?”
“Because you’re my girl,” I admit, my voice low and intense. “And I can’t stand the thought of anyone hurting you.”
Her shoulders shake with silent sobs and if I was a better man I’d comfort her, but I can’t shake the anger in me long enough to do that.
“Goddammit, Oakley,” I snarl, my voice dripping with frustration. The air between us crackles with tension. “I need to know what that sick fuck did to you.” My jaw clenches so hard I can feel the pressure in my skull. “I won’t rest until I find him, torture him and then kill him.” Crossing my arms over my chest, I take a step closer, crowding her space. “I’m not leaving until you give me the answers I need.”
Her eyes dart away from mine. She takes a shaky breath, her tears glistening in the dim light. “Why can’t you just let it go?” Her voice trembles, but there’s a steel edge to it. “Why do you need to know every fucking detail?”
“Because,” I growl, barely keeping my rage in check, “Ineed to understand how much pain you’re carrying. I need to know so I can find this bastard and make sure he feels every inch of the hurt he caused you.”
“Fine,” she spits out, her eyes blazing with fury. “You want to know? He grabbed me, yanked me down, and forced himself on me.” Her voice cracks, raw with emotion. “He didn’t care that I was scared, that I couldn’t breathe. Is that what you wanted to hear? Are you satisfied now?”
