Page 90 of Burned

I open the door slowly.

That alone should terrify everyone. I do not do slowly when Erin is hurt. I do not do careful. I break locks, tear doors from hinges, drag truth into the light by its throat.

Cass rolled into the hallway to talk to me privately before letting me into the room with Erin. Her words from the hallway stay in my head.

Don’t make this about your rage.

I stare down at my girl. Her dark hair hangs over her face like a curtain. An attempt to hide.

My chest tightens. She’s wrecked.

She looks up at me, and every violent thought in my head goes silent for one brutal second.

I step inside and close the door behind. I leave it unlocked in case she needs to run.

Sometimes, she needs a moment.

Erin lets out a tiny sound. It might have been a laugh if it had not broken in the middle. She’s staring at her hands.

I lower myself slowly into the chair that sits near her. Not beside. Not touching.

Close enough to reach. Far enough that she can breathe.

Her fingers twist together. “I hate this,” she says. Her voice is raw.

“I know.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Fair. No,” I say. “I don’t.”

She looks up then. Beautiful in a way that makes me want to destroy the world for the privilege of touching her first.

“Carlos sent the recording because he knew I hadn’t told you everything,” she says.

I keep my hands still. “He knew about Caleb?”

“Yes.” She nods.

“He did more to you than you told me.”

She doesn’t answer.

Every muscle in my body locks. Not enough for her to notice, I hope. She notices.

“He cornered me once,” she says.

The room narrows.

She says, “I fought at first.”

I grip the arms of the chair. The edges bit into my palms.

“He said if I screamed, he’d wake Ryan.”

I stop breathing. I become the chair. The walls. Anything but the man who wants to put his fist through every wall in this room.

I listen. She speaks.