Page 45 of Twisted Redemption

But the more I think about it, the more the pieces start to fall into place.

Over the past couple of months, she’s bailed on me multiple times—and Brooke never bails on me.

She didn’t come to me for comfort on days that I knew she was stressed. I’ve been assuming she’s started going to David, but what if I’ve been looking at this all wrong?

What if, for the past few months, my Daisy has been slowly slipping through my fingers, and I’ve been too blind to see it?

No. No, she wouldn’t just leave you. You mean too much to her.

But apparently, I fucking don’t.

Anger settles in quickly after the disbelief. First at David—because he took her away from me, possibly in more way than one.

But my anger shifts to Brooke within mere seconds.

Because David’s actions don’t matter. Not when compared to Brooke’s. Because the truth is, even if he’s behind this, it doesn’t change what Brooke didn’t even try to do.

She didn’t try to keep me, in whatever way she could, like I’ve done for years. I’ve wanted all of her—her laughs, her kisses, her goddamned heart, but I’ve settled for the bits and pieces of her that she gives me.

And now, when presented with an obstacle in our relationship, she fucking gives up. She didn’t fight for me.

Maybe it’s because you’re not worth fighting for.

I scream into the floor.

And for a week, I don’t sleep. I just subsist on pain, anger, and rom-coms that remind me of her.

CHAPTER TWELVE

BROOKE

AFTER A NIGHT of shitty sleep, I wake to two texts.

Sophia: I’m excited to see you later. :)

I smile, typing back a happy reply before moving on to the other.

David: My love, I’m so sorry I hurt you. I was drunk and angry and not thinking straight. Are you injured badly?

Anger curls in my stomach. How dare he?

Block him. Block him now and be done with it.

Why should I have to block him? Why can’t he just leave me the fuck alone?

Brooke: I’ll be fine, no thanks to you. Fuck off.

His reply is instantaneous.

David: You have to believe me, I’d take it back if I could. You just made me so angry. I’m sorry, baby.

I ignore him, tossing my phone onto the far side of my bed and sitting up. Thankfully, my body isn’t nearly as sore as it was yesterday, and my headache is much more manageable.

I change before heading to the bathroom, glancing down the hall to the master bedroom. Last night, I sent Blaze a text telling him he’s absolutely not sleeping in my room again, his “I’m not letting you out of my sight” bullshit aside. He didn’t reply.

Based on the still-made bed I can see through the doorway, he didn’t sleep, either.

I frown. He’s had on-and-off insomnia and sleep issues since we were kids. I guess I’ve been secretly hoping that they’d disappeared over the past year.

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