Page 43 of Twisted Redemption

I frown at the coffee table again before it hits me.

Tissues—there aren’t any tissues in here.

As I’m grabbing some from my bedroom, I hear the front door open and close.

“Blaze?” she calls out.

Yep, something is definitely wrong. She sounds exhausted.

I head downstairs. When I find her, she’s in the living room, staring at the coffee table. Her hands are shaking.

I pause.

Brooke cries. Brooke yells. She goes silent for hours and hides. But she never, ever shakes—except once, when her brother was kidnapped his senior year of high school.

“Daisy? What’s wrong?” Tossing the tissues onto the couch, I pull her into my arms. But she only relaxes against me for a second before pulling away.

She bends down and picks up the movies, looking through them. “The snacks, the films, the tissues... Why did you do this?”

“It’s my Brooke’s-Had-A-Bad-Day Emergency Kit.” I grin at her, but she doesn’t smile back.

Brooke isn’t moving. Hell, I don’t think she’s even breathing. And I’m pretty sure her skin is a shade or two paler than it was when I first came down.

“You look like you’re going to be sick. Why don’t you sit down.”

She shakes her head. It’s then that I realize she hasn’t taken off her shoes. Her purse is slung over her shoulder, and she’s still gripping her car keys in her hand.

She looks... scared.

“Brooke.” Any humor has left my voice. I cup her chin in my hand, tilting it up until she’s looking at me. But she’s not. Her eyes are unfocused, void of the joy that’s usually filling them up. “I need you to tell me what’s going on. You’re acting really fucking weird.”

“I can’t do this,” she murmurs. The way it comes out of her mouth is like a regretful realization. But then she shakes her head, stepping back and finally, really looking at me. “Blaze, I—” She stops.

We stare at each other for a moment as bone-chilling dread fills me.

“Did someone hurt you?” I say lowly. The protectiveness I’ve always felt for her flares up in my chest.

She shakes her head, taking another step back. “I’m sorry,” she says. “Blaze, I’m really, really sorry.”

My mouth goes dry. “For what?” It’s a struggle to get the words out.

“You’ve always been there for me. Please know that’s meant the world to me, and it still does.” She pauses, her breaths short and uneven. She won’t even look at me.

“What are you saying?” I reach out for her, but she shies away. “Did something happen? Daisy, there isn’t a single thing you could do that would stop me from lo- from caring about you. You know that, right?”

“We can’t be friends,” she blurts.

I laugh. “What?”

“I—I have too much going on. College is going to be starting up again soon, and it’s going to take up a lot of my time. And David—I need to be there for him. I want to be there for him. And let’s face it, Blaze, it’s not normal for us to be this close when we’re seeing other people. David has to be my number one priority. He is my number one priority.”

I listen silently. How many times did she practice that little speech in the mirror? Because it sounds so fake—like she fucking recited it from memory.

“I’m not seeing anyone,” I say. It’s the lamest argument, but it’s all I can think of.

Twenty years. Twenty fucking years of loving you, and you’re just throwing me away?

“I’m seeing someone, Blaze. And it’s really serious. I—I love him, okay?” She’s fiddling with her car keys, and I’m pretty sure her hands are shaking even worse now.

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