“You doing okay?” he finally asks.

“Wonderful,” I lie through clenched teeth.

“I seem to lose all control of myself with you, Clove. It’s like you’ve hijacked my fucking brain and it’s screaming at my cock to bury itself inside you. I need my daily fix of you. You have no idea how lo . . .”

He almost slipped and gave something away! What the hell was he going to say? A plan enters my jumbled mess of a brain. I am not the type of woman to just sit here and let my brother do all of the work, so tonight, I am going to push this crazy, distorted excuse for a human being into hell with me and see how he fucking likes it.

Chapter Eight

He’s fallen asleep beside me and I can hear the faint sounds of his snoring. I lift his arm off of me and place it back down as carefully as I can, then roll to the side of the bed and withdraw myself from it.

I spin on my heel and look down at him. I’m no better than this manipulating, screwed up asshole is, I think to myself as my gaze travels up and down my bed. Turner’s bed. Our bed. I want to burn it, burn it with this piece of shit lying here naked with a smug look on his face as he sleeps. I hate him. Not as much as I hate myself right now for what I let him do to me, but I still fucking hate him.

I turn and rush into the bathroom¸ smacking my elbow into the doorframe, not even caring about the pain that is now flaring up my arm. I welcome it. I deserve it. I deserve every ounce of the pain that is hitting me everywhere.

Stepping into the shower, I turn on the hot tap but a blast of cold water hits me across my face and the front of my body. I still don’t care. I shiver and shake, sinking to the bottom. The overwhelming pressure lets loose as I curl myself up in a ball on my side.

Oh God, I so wish I could run to my father and tell him everything. I just want him to hold me in his arms and tell me that everything is going to be all right. And yet I know I can’t. He wouldn’t be able to control himself like Zack; no, my dad would grab his shotgun and kill that beast for the simple fact that I am hurting.

I am suddenly aware that extremely hot water is pelting my skin, stinging my backside. I gradually stand up and adjust the water to a comfortable temperature. With shaky hands, I reach for the soap and begin to scrub my body everywhere, placing particular attention on my most private area. I need him off of me a-fucking- gain, and no matter how much I scrub and try to cleanse myself he’s still there. He’s never going to come off of me, ever, so I stop just before I tear off my skin from rubbing so hard and stand under the spray to rinse away what I can of him.

I look down to see the last bit of suds escaping down the drain, so I shut the water off. I stand there for a few more minutes trying to gather my thoughts before stepping out and grabbing a towel from the towel holder that is built into the wall. It’s yet another reminder of Turner’s thoughtful design when we hired the contractors to redo the bathroom.

He is literally everywhere in this house, and suddenly, I can’t take it anymore. I can’t do this. I just can’t. I need to get out of here and help my brother find the only man that I will ever love and just hope like hell that he is able to forgive me for everything I have done.

I quickly brush my hair and pull the wet strands back into a ponytail. I apply lotion all over my body and add just a little bit of a shiny gloss to my lips. Without even taking a glance at Trent laying on the bed, I grab some clean panties and bra out of my dresser, then step into my closet and grab the first thing I lay my hands on. It turns out to be a very old, pale pink sundress. I pull it over my head, adjusting the straps as I walk out of the room, closing the door behind me.

I practically fly down the stairs in a frenzy, snatching my phone from the counter and stepping outside into the blistering Atlanta summer heat. I adjust one of the patio chairs to face the door so I can watch for signs that Trent is about to appear. Plopping myself into it, I swipe my phone and take a deep breath before hitting Zack’s number. I hold the phone up to my ear.

“Please answer,” I whisper.

After three rings it goes to voicemail. I know my voice sounds shaky and scared as I leave my message.

“Zack. I- I don’t think I can do this for much longer. Please call me back, and please tell me you have found some answers.”

I disconnect the call and toss my phone on the patio table. Leaning forward, I place my face in my hands and my shoulders sag in defeat. I don’t know how long I stay that way as I try and calm my racing brain and my aching heart. The sound of my phone ringing is what brings me back. It’s Krista calling. When I answer, I am greeted by Krista’s frantic voice.

“Oh dear God, Clove! I have been trying to call you for over an hour, please tell me you’re doing okay,” she begs.

“I don’t know, Krista. I feel like I don’t know anything, anymore. This is a nightmare and I can’t seem to wake up no matter how hard I try.”

She must hear the frantic shakiness in my voice because she starts crying.

“Krista, don’t cry. Please.”

“I don’t know what else to do, Clove. Don’t keep all of this to yourself. You know I am always here for you. Always. Right?”

“I know you are, and I love you even more for it.” And I do love her. All this has been dumped on her just like the rest of us. “You just had a baby and the best thing you can do for me right now is to take care of yourself and my handsome little nephew.”

After a few moments, her sobs start to subside and a small laugh escapes from her mouth.

“He is quite handsome, isn’t he?” she says with pride.

“He’s the best.”

I close my eyes and images of my nephew with all of his hair and big eyes come to my mind, making me feel somewhat more peaceful.

I wish I had the ability right now to be able to talk to Krista face to face about my feelings. Not really knowing how long I have been out here or when Trent is going to wake up, Krista and I make plans. She is going to call me first thing in the morning and ask if I want to go shopping with her and the baby

I really need someone to talk to about all of this, someone besides my brother, who I cannot tell the most intimate details of what is happening between Trent and me. I need someone who I know will not look at me with pity because that is the last thing I need right now. I need someone who can help me get through this, and Krista is that someone.

An inexplicable unease creeps all the way up my spine when I enter back into the house. Gripping my phone tightly, I walk across the kitchen floor and stand at the bottom of the stairs. I hear Trent’s voice and yet I cannot make out his words, as they are muted and distant. I stand there for several minutes debating whether or not to climb the stairs and try to listen in. Before I know it, my feet are moving ever so slowly up until I hear his muffled words.

“I don’t give a shit.” He pauses. “Dad. I have to go before she comes back in here.”

Dad? Are you fucking kidding me? Their dad? What the hell is going on? How any of them could be so fucked up as to do what they are doing is beyond me. My eyes go wide and I don’t have time to think as I hear him walking out of my room and making his way down the hall. I leap two stairs at a time and skid into the kitchen across the hardwood floor, almost falling on my ass in the process.

“Clove, babe.” His voice echoes from behind me just as I am reaching up to pull a glass out of the cupboard. I compose my unsteady voice as best I can.

“In here.”

“You wore me out.”

His gaze searches my face while his hand rubs across his chin. I don’t give a thing away as I stand there calm and collected and drain the contents of my glass of water.