Page 39 of When Wrecked Meets Ruined
“I told you twenty minutes. You were ten minutes late.” As if it was my fault that he was doing business with those assholes. He gave me a shove. “Now get in the house.”
Not needing to be told twice, I hurried up the driveway, hazarding a quick glance over my shoulder as Wade handed over the money to the guy behind the wheel. How much money did Wade owe him? And for what?
When I got inside, I locked the door and cracked the blinds. The Caddy pulled away a few seconds later, and I sighed with relief when Wade climbed into his truck and left.
“E-bee!” Wren ran toward me, holding her favorite stuffed animal—a unicorn with a long purple mane—and a pair of scissors. I snatched them out of her hand, tucked them in my back pocket, and held her at arm’s length, inspecting her for damage. Purple marker covered her skin, but I didn’t see any cuts or bruises. “Where did you get those scissors?”
“Your room.”
“Don’t touch my stuff, Wren. You’re too young for scissors.”
Her bottom lip trembled at my sharp tone, and she burst into tears. I lifted her into my arms and carried her to the bathroom.
“I don’t want you to get hurt, little monster,” I told her as I scrubbed her skin with a wet, soapy washcloth. She tried to bat me away with her hands, so I couldn’t get it all. Good enough. It was late, and I was too tired to fight her.
I rinsed the purple down the drain. Then I lifted Wren out of the sink and carried her into the bedroom that used to be mine. Last year, I moved all my mom’s crap out of the third bedroom that she used as a storage closet and claimed it as my own. It was smaller than my old bedroom, but I had privacy.
After I tucked Wren in and kissed her good night, I walked into my bedroom, flicked on the dresser lamp, and froze.
Purple marker decorated the white walls, my pale gray comforter, and the dresser I’d rescued from the side of the road and painted antique white.
A pint-sized tornado had whipped through my room, wreaking havoc on my possessions. I collected the photos ripped to shreds by the hands of a toddler and tossed them in the wastepaper basket.
Turning, my eyes landed on the limited edition signed copy ofThe OutsidersQuinn gave me for my eighteenth birthday. My most valuable possession. Facedown with ripped-out pages strewn across the carpet.
Dread gnawed at my gut as I slid down against my closet door and pulled the book into my lap, flipping through the pages. Purple marker bled through the pages.
Slamming it shut, I tossed it in the closet where I wouldn’t have to see it and threw the purple marker in the wastepaper basket where my shredded memories lived.
I crawled into bed, where I tossed and turned until the sun rose.
Nothing gold can stay.
But god. Just once in my life, I wish the world would prove me wrong.
CHAPTERFIFTEEN
Ridge
“Uncle Ridge!”Noah shouted.
Jesus. What time is it? I cracked one eye open and fumbled for my phone on the bedside table.Eight o’clock.
A soft sigh next to me had me turning my head. Long brown hair fanned across the pillow, but I couldn’t see her face.
The fuck? What did I do last night?
I was still wearing athletic shorts. That was a good sign. I left the girl in my bed and jogged down the stairs as Noah barreled into the house.
Walker was passed out on the sofa, and Jackson was face down on the braided rug with a redhead sprawled next to him.
I moved in front of Noah, blocking his view of the mess. Empty cans and bottles spilled out of a ripped garbage bag, someone’s half-assed attempt to clean up, and covered every inch of counter space.
Noah put his hands on his knees and panted.
“You okay, buddy?”
Noah nodded. “I ran real fast.” He sucked in a deep breath. “Dad’s on his way over. I think you’re gonna get in big trouble.” His eyes were as wide as saucers.
