Page 37 of Wicked Angel
And I knew, in my heart, that she was right.
But it was hard to let go of something you never really thought you’d lose. It was traumatic. And I didn’t really know what my life would look like when I let go.
Would I go into free fall?
Would I crash and burn?
I had no idea. But I knew, no matter how scary it was, I had to take the leap.
I thought of Johnny last night, catching me over and over when I fell. The memories were coming back, even if I didn’t want them to. Even if I didn’t want to remember the feeling of him catching me in his arms, holding me up. Protecting me.
He didn’t let me go until I was safe.
His strength just reminded me of Flynn’s. Because Flynn could’ve held on, too. He was strong enough. He was way stronger than me, in so many ways. He could’ve held on and not let go.
But as hard as it was, Flynn had let me go, whether I felt ready for it or not.
Now I had to let him go, too.
ChapterSeven
Angeline
After Shayla left for dance practice, I scraped myself together as best I could under the circumstances. The circumstances being my raging hangover and lack of fucks given to the task at hand.
I finger-brushed my teeth, tied yesterday’s hairdo up in a ratty bun, and dumped my destroyed slippers in the trash so I didn’t have to look at them. They were just too much of a reminder of last night’s whole terrible scene—all three of them.
The fight with Flynn.
Getting scooped up off a street corner by a carload of slimy fuckboys.
And getting rescued from said fuckboys by Johnny O.
Oh, and don’t forget about the blathering, clinging and crying,Mean Me whispered. She was getting kind of annoying, already. I wasn’t sure if I’d be keeping her around.
Then my sister called. Shayla had found my purse, containing my phone and wallet, in her foyer, thank God; I was worried I’d left it in the fuckboys’ car.
Apparently, Elle had tried calling me three times today already, before I even turned my ringer on. I picked up, cringing as I wondered if Flynn had mentioned to her what happened last night. “Hey, Elle.”
“Angie. Are you okay? Are you at Shayla’s?”
“I’m fine. And yes. How’d you know?”
“Because you called me in the middle of the night and said you were going there.”
Did I? Damn. I was quite the drunk dialer, historically. Should’ve probably checked to see if I called anyone else in the middle of my drinking binge. Hopefully not Flynn.
“Sorry. I was a little drunk last night. Hope I didn’t wake you up.”
“A little drunk? You sounded absolutely wasted.”
“I wasn’t that wasted.” I totally was.
“What happened? You were babbling on about Flynn and something about glitter…?”
“Yeah. Um, we might’ve gotten into a bit of a fight.”
“Oh, Angie…”
