Page 19 of Twisted Redemption

She struggles for a moment more before giving in, and I reach over to buckle her in. When my fingers brush her shoulder, she winces.

I keep the radio off, and we drive in tense silence. It’s not even five minutes later that she sinks into her seat, sniffling.

“I just wanted to forget,” she whispers, and I’m not sure if she meant for me to hear or not.

I keep my mouth shut, practically strangling the steering wheel. It’s raining out, just lightly, even though the skies were clear this evening.

A lonely and miserable death, huh? At this rate, that’s exactly where I’m headed.

By the time we’ve completed the twenty-minute drive to her house, Brooke’s head has lolled to one side in sleep. Her expression has softened, and finally, she looks to be at peace.

With a sigh, I get out of the car and open her door. She doesn’t stir.

“Daisy.”

Nothing.

Undoing her seatbelt, I lift her into my arms. She lets out a small moan, her head resting against my shoulder.

When I get inside and the alarm doesn’t beep, I grit my teeth. Tristan and David could come after her for so many reasons. She’s one of the only people Alex, Dominic, and I would all do just about anything for. And she can’t even do the bare minimum to protect herself.

“You need to start setting your alarm,” I say. “This security system is useless if you don’t use it.”

She grunts, pressing her hand lightly against my chest. Of course, after I’m already carrying her, now is when she decides to wake up.

The house is dark, so I pick my way through the kitchen and living room carefully. When I make it to the bottom of the steps, I feel her soft fingers brush against my cheek.

“I miss you,” she murmurs, nestling her head against my chest. Then she tenses, inhaling a small breath. “No. I hate you.”

“And why’s that?” I tighten my hold on her as I carry her up the stairs.

“For making me miss you,” she whispers.

I pause, staring down at her in the darkness. Fuck. The need to make everything right rushes through me. But I can’t. Firstly, because she’s the one who cut me off in the first place. And secondly, because I have to do this for Charlie, and I need to do it right. If I mess it up, then the whole thing is off—and I need to know Charlie will be okay.

So I continue walking up the stairs, saying, “I know.”

In her room, I leave the lights off and set her on her bed. Taking off her shoes, I look around for any clothes. There’s a T-shirt draped over her hamper, barely visible in the moonlight. But when I pick it up, I realize it’s soaked, like she wore it in the shower.

“Where are your pajamas, Daisy?”

“No,” she mutters, peeling off her pants. “I hate that name.”

“You don’t,” I tell her gently. “Now what do you sleep in?”

“Nothing.” She yawns, reaching for the hem of her shirt.

I grab her hands. “You’ll regret that in the morning. Just wait until I’m gone.”

Frowning, she leans her head against my stomach. “Stay. I don’t like being here alone.”

Jesus fucking Christ.

Crawling onto her knees, unsteady on the edge of the mattress, she places her hands on my chest. “I want you to kiss me. I loved the way you kissed me, Blaze.” She runs her fingers through my hair, eyeing my lips. “Like you...” She trails off, frowning again, and I’m not sure if it’s because she doesn’t want to say the words or if she’s too drunk to remember what she was saying.

Swallowing down the desire building in me, I say, “Another thing you’ll regret in the morning. Lay down.”

With a sigh, she does, pulling the covers over her small frame. She collapses onto her back, eyes closed.

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