“Same here. It’s this strange, hollow feeling—like a hungry hole that needs to be filled, but food isn’t the answer.” Cora averts her eyes to just beyond my shoulder, drifting away before I can catch her. She finds her way back after about ten seconds, shifting on the couch and picking at the hem of her sweater.
“Are you seeing a therapist?” I wonder.
She nods, still avoiding my gaze. “I’m pretty sure my therapist needs a therapist at this point.”
I observe the way she gnaws on the inside of her lip, scratching at her wrist as she stares at the far wall. “Have you told them… everything?”
Have you told them your sister’s fiancé was forced to fuck you six times, and one of those times you got off?
I keep the fucked up truths to myself as she nods and replies, “Mostly.”
I want to know which part she omitted, but I’m pretty sure I already do.
Cora changes the subject. “Did they ever find your car?”
My motherfucking car. If I could kill that piece of shit all over again, I probably would. I spent two years saving up for a down payment on my dream Camaro with all the bells and whistles—I only had it three months before Earl “made it disappear”. I shake my head, my anger simmering. “Nope. I’m going back and forth with my insurance company, seeing if there’s anything they can do. I’ve been taking an Uber to my therapy appointments.”
“That sucks. I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, well, it’s replaceable. Eventually. He took a hell of a lot more from you.”
We both let that dark cloud hover over us for a minute, and I kind of wish I could take it back. I didn’t mean to give her wounds life. Cora seems to mentally retreat, and I can only imagine what she’s thinking about.
I hope she’s thinking about me talking her through it, begging her to focus on me, to only see me, to only hear me…
But I know she’s not.
“They’re searching for more bodies,” Cora says in a low, shaky breath. “They’ve uncovered a bunch of bones buried on his property. They’re trying to identify the victims.”
I close my eyes. “Fuck…” I haven’t been keeping track of the story unfolding. It’s too much for me to deal with. It’s too soon, too fresh, too personal. I’ve already recanted the story to the police, the doctors, my therapist. I was grilled by detectives who were wondering if they had a goddamn murder case against me. While it was obviously self-defense, there wasn’t a clean bullet wound or a quick stab to the heart. No—I fucking pulverized the bastard with my bare hands. It was violent and savage and out of control.
He had to be identified by dental records.
But given the circumstances, there were no charges brought against me. Thank God. The last thing I wanted was to leave one prison and go straight to another.
Then again… I have to wonder if I’ll always be in some sort of prison.
“It’s so messed up,” Cora continues, setting her coffee down on the wooden table beside her. She lifts her teary eyes to me as she twists back around. “That was almost us, Dean. That was…”
I hear the panic in her voice and I see it in her wide, green eyes, so I inch my way closer to her on the couch. “Shh, hey… it wasn’t us. We got the fuck out and we survived.” I reach out to graze my knuckles against her cheek, watching as a tear slides down and collapses on my finger. Cora’s eyelids flutter closed as she sucks in jagged breaths. “We’re alive, we’re breathing, and we’re never going back.”
Cora raises her hand to touch mine, cradling my fingers. The contact makes something inside me spin and buzz and squirm. I grind my teeth together while she brazenly nuzzles her face against my hand like it’s the most natural thing in the world. She kisses the heel of my palm, and I almost fucking lose it.
“I go back there every night.”
Hell. I pull her in, clutching her to me and letting her head fall against my chest like a lost lover. I wrap both arms around her, twining my fingers through her silky strands of hair, inhaling her familiar, calming scent. “Is this okay?”
She nods against my t-shirt, slinking her own arm around my midsection. “It’s okay.” Cora is silent for a long time, her breathing more even and steady. I almost wonder if she’s fallen asleep until she murmurs, “It doesn’t feel like Christmastime.”
I continue to stroke her glossy locks, massaging her scalp with the tips of my fingers as I try to alleviate her pain the best I can. I slide my opposite hand into the pocket of my sweatpants and pull out my phone, scrolling through the stations until I find the one I want. I turn the volume up and lean back, holding Cora in my arms as Christmas music begins to serenade us through my cell phone speaker.
I feel her relax almost instantly, burrowing her tear-stained cheek further into my chest.
Cora falls asleep a few moments later with I’ll Be Home For Christmas echoing in our ears, warming us up, taming our tortured souls… and I know I’ll be perfectly content if this is all I get for Christmas this year.
Chapter Fifteen
O N E Y E A R E A R L I E R
“You’re probably going to think I’m a weirdo, but I sorta got you a Christmas present.”
My brow furrows in confusion, my eyes glazing over with equal parts curiosity and spiked eggnog. Then I feel like a giant dick because I didn’t get her anything. Cora and I have never exchanged gifts before—well, except for that one year I gave her a vibrator shaped like Santa Clause that said, ‘Ho, Ho, Ho’ as it vibrated. She, in turn, gifted me with a sharp punch to the shoulder. “Shit, Corabelle. I didn’t get you anything.”
Cora sits on the couch, one bronzed leg draped over the other as a champagne flute dangles from her hand. I’m sitting across from her on the floor, leaning back on my hands. The sequins of her red cocktail dress sparkle against the Christmas lights, a festive compliment to her bright, green eyes.
It’s honestly annoying how pretty she looks.
“It’s probably for the best that you didn’t.”
I’m certain we’re both thinking about the Santa vibrator when a rosy blush kisses her cheeks.
I shoot her a sly grin. “Well, hand it over. Is it a car? Tell me it’s a car.”
Mandy shoves her pointy fingernail into my arm. “Why would Cora get you a car?”
“Because she loves me.”
“Ew.” Cora sets her champagne down on the coffee table in front of her, bending over just enough to reveal a dangerous amount of cleavage. I look away. “Only you would confuse love and hate. I’m sure it’s very complicated for your itty-bitty pea brain to keep straight.”
“You two are ridiculous,” Mandy mutters through a slow breath. “I need more brownies.”
Mandy stands up on her wobbly heels, and I can’t help but wonder why she’s been wearing stilettos all night in her parent’s living room. She disappears into the kitchen, leaving me alone with the more aggravating sister.
Not that I mind. Sparring with Cora Lawson is pretty high on my list of preferred activities.
She thinks I’m an idiot, and I let her think it. I get a rise out of the incredulous look in her eyes when I say or do something stupid. It’s part of our game.