Getting Hot (Jail Bait Book 3) (19 page)

I get to my feet and struggle to drape the heavy blanket over my head, finally tugging it tightly around the front of me and leaving just a hole to peek through. 

“Ready? she says between coughs.

I nod and she starts down the stairs.

“We’re going to have to run through it,” she says as the heat intensifies. “You go first.”

“I can’t!” I scream. The fire is louder now, and so hot I feel my skin tighten even through the wet blanket.

“You have to! I’ll be right behind you!”

I shake my head, terror petrifying me into stone and gluing my feet to the stair.

“We can’t wait!” she yells, then grabs my blanket and starts dragging me.

When I realize we’re going no matter what, I grab onto her and start running. Flames lick at the edges of my blanket and the heat is so intense I’m sure I’m burning alive, but I run and don’t stop until we’re outside.

The sirens are so loud they scramble my brain, and as we move down the walk, I see Mom, sitting cross-legged on the sidewalk, staring at the burning house. Her expression is totally blank, but as we pass, she says, “It went faster than I thought it would,” without taking her eyes off the building inferno.

I know that’s supposed to be some kind of apology, but Destiny and I drop the blankets and just keep walking.

I slow at the corner and start to turn to watch as the emergency crews screech to a stop in front of our house, but Destiny grabs my hand and yanks me across the street. “We’ve got to get out of here.”

“Lilah?” She’s got my shoulders in her hands. She starts shaking me. “Lilah!

I drop the bloody apple and realize tears are coursing down my cheeks. I brace my hands on the counter until my legs will carry me to the table, where I collapse into a chair. “I remembered.”

She grimaces. “What do you think you remember?”

I’m all questions and no answers. I grab onto the first one that spins past in the cyclone of my mind. “Why did we run? Why didn’t we stay with Mom when we got out of the house?”

“She was going to jail. CPS would have split us up if they knew we existed, stuck you in some foster home or whatever.”

I know there’s more she’s not telling me by the fear that flashes in her eyes. “I remember a knife…the one from under my bed. I see it against your forehead in my dreams sometimes,” I say, pressing my finger to the place on my forehead where the scar is on hers. My heart is struggling to keep a rhythm and I hold my breath. “Did I do that to you? I can’t remember.”

Her eyes widen. “God, no, Lilah!” She shakes her head as if shaking away a memory. “No, it wasn’t you.”

“Then who?” I know it’s probably wrong for me to push her when she’s just gotten home, but I have to know. “I keep seeing blood… a lot of blood.”

She stands and shakes her head again. “I’m not doing this, Lilah. Just let it lie.”

She disappears up the hall and closes the door to her room as the macaroni on the stove boils over.

Chapter 29

Bran

I’m not sure how to play this since Destiny’s been home, so I’ve let Lilah take the lead. I’m trying not to read too much into it, but I’ve felt on the edge of a panic attack since she came in last night to play at the bar. She was distant, not like she was angry, or even upset, but more distracted. Or really, haunted.

I gave her space, because it’s all I really can do. She and Destiny have some things to work out. My biggest fear is that I’m the root of it, and as hard as I’ve fallen for Lilah, I can’t be responsible for driving a wedge between her and Destiny. Which is why I told her I needed Destiny on board with this. I’m just not quite sure how to make that happen.

My phone wakes me early Saturday and I pick it up and squint at the screen. When I see Lilah’s number, I snap it up.

“Hey.”

There’s a long pause. “Do you have time to talk?” she finally asks.

“Yeah. Absolutely.” I climb out of bed and rake yesterday’s jeans up from the floor next to my bed. “Should I come by or…?”

“Yeah. I’ll meet you out front.”

“On my way,” I say, tugging them up my legs. I disconnect and find a fresh T-shirt, then yank on my leather jacket on the way out the door.

When I pull up, she’s already waiting outside. I reach across to open my passenger door and she climbs in.

“Where to?” I ask.

She shrugs and slumps into the seat.

I roll away from the curb and drive. “Everything okay with Destiny?”

Finally, she looks at me. She looked tired yesterday and it made me wonder about her nightmares. Today, she’s worse; purple crescents under red-rimmed, lifeless eyes. I know that look. She hasn’t slept in a while.

“I’m not sure.”

“She hasn’t…you know, had any meltdowns or anything, has she?”

She shakes her head. “We’ve never talked about the night our house burnt down. I always thought it was because…” She shrugs then lifts her gaze to mine. “You know that scar on her forehead?”

I nod.

She lowers her gaze and watches her fingers fidget with the strings of her hoodie. “She got the cut that night. I used to keep a big carving knife under my bed because there were some scary people squatting at our house most of the time. I’ve seen the tip of that knife making the cut in my dreams. I was afraid to bring up the fire because I was afraid I’d hurt Destiny even though I couldn’t remember.”

I don’t like the thought of Lilah feeling like she needed a knife to protect herself in her own home, and again find myself wishing her parents bodily harm.

“I asked her on Monday when we got home. She said it wasn’t me. But…” She shakes her head. “Something happened with Destiny and me the night of the fire that I can’t remember. The thing is, every time I try, I feel sick and ants start crawling under my skin.”

“Have you asked her?”

“She won’t talk about it.” She rubs her eyes then looks at me. “I’m scared, Bran. I’m not really sure if I want to know.”

I snag her eyes with my gaze and hold them. “Only you know if you’re ready to face down your demons, Lilah.”

She tips her head against the window as if it’s too heavy to hold up.

We’re passing the shelter at the downhill end of the park and I pull over. “You want to walk?” I ask, nodding at the path that winds up the hill to the playground up top.

She looks at me a long second, then pushes out her door. I climb out and take her hand. She wraps her fingers tightly around mine, but her skin doesn’t scorch through mine the way it usually does. She feels clammy, and there’s a tremor in her hand.

The last stubborn leaves of fall are now curled in dry brown heaps at the side of the path, crunching under our feet as we start up the hill.

“I talked to Destiny’s therapist on Monday,” Lilah says, watching the dead husks swirl around our feet in the crisp breeze. “She was asking about the night of the fire. She thinks Destiny needs to remember what happened, but I think she already does.”

I try to follow what she’s saying. “You think Destiny’s pretending not to remember?”

She pulls her hand from mine and shoves them into her hoodie pockets. “I only remember parts of what happened that night. She seems nervous that I might start to remember more.”

“Maybe if Destiny’s trying not to remember, you should be glad you don’t,” I say wishing that I could forget half of the things that I relive in my nightmares. “Some things are better left alone.”

She watches the path unfold in front of us and leads me to a bench under a group of leafless trees. For a minute, she just looks at it, but then she brushes the leaves off and sits. I sit next to her and loop my arm over her shoulders. My heart releases the breath it’s been holding when she leans into me and lays her head on my shoulder.

“I’m supposed to see her therapist again later this morning. Destiny doesn’t want me to go.”

I tip my face into her hair and breathe deeply. “I think what you choose to do is up to you, not Destiny.”

She presses tighter to my side. “I want to. Maybe she can help me remember.”

“But you said you weren’t sure you wanted to.”

She lifts her head and fixes me in her gaze. “But I think I have to.”

I brush my fingertips over her cold cheek and along the line of her jaw. When I pull her into a kiss, she kisses me back.

“Will you take me?” she asks, leaning into my side again.

“Of course.” I would do anything for her. All she has to do is ask. But if this therapist ends up destroying her by digging up whatever this memory is her mind is protecting her from, I’ll never forgive myself.

Chapter 30

Lilah

Bran walks me to the door of the hospital. “Do you want me to come in with you?”

I shake my head. “Will you wait?”

His eyes grow darker and search mine. “Of course, Lilah. I’m not going anywhere.”

I take both of his hands in mine, and despite the fact that my heart is about to explode, it warms with the love and concern I see in his gaze. “Knowing that is the only thing that gives me the strength to do this.”

He kisses me and when our lips part, I back away and turn for the door. When I get to Mary’s waiting room, it’s empty. Her office door is open.

“I’m so glad you decided to come, Lilah,” she says, appearing in the doorway.

I mentally brace myself. Now that I’m here, I have to follow through. “I remembered some things after I was here.”

She nods encouragingly and leads me into her office, closing the door behind us. She takes a seat in the wingchair as I lower myself onto the couch. “This session is yours, Lilah. We can talk about what you remembered, or anything else that you want to talk about.”

I squirm to get comfortable in the corner of the cushions and lean my elbows on my knees, watching my toes turn first in, then out. “I’ve had flashes blood for a while—a knife pressed against Destiny’s forehead, but I don’t remember whose hand it was in.” I look up at her. “I asked her Monday and she says it wasn’t mine.”

“Why would you think it was?”

“It was a carving knife I kept under my bed when creepy people started squatting in our house.”

“Because you were scared?”

I nod.

“So you see this knife cutting Destiny, but not who’s holding it?”

I rub my forehead. “There are a whole lot of things that don’t make sense. I see a lot of blood—too much to be just from Destiny’s cut. We were covered with it. We cleaned up in the bathroom and when we came out, the house was burning and we had to run through the fire to get out.” Things are scrambling in my mind as I try to piece it together. “I think our mom might have set the fire.”

“While you were in the house?” she asks, keeping both her tone and expression carefully neutral.

I nod. “But I don’t think she meant to hurt Destiny and me. I just don’t know why she would have done that.”

“The blood,” she says. “If it wasn’t Destiny’s, who do you think it belonged to?”

I shake my head. “I can’t remember. I don’t even know how I ended up covered in it.”

She leans toward me, her hand on her knee. “Do you want to remember, Lilah?”

I take a deep breath and rub at the itch in my arms. “Yes and no.”

“If you’re serious about remembering, it’s possible hypnosis could get you past the block in your memory.”

Cold terror grasps my heart and squeezes, sending a shiver wracking my body. “How would that work?”

“It’s really just helping you to find a meditative state where things are clearer.”

“But I would be awake…remember what I remember?”

She nods. “You will always be in full control.”

I’m shaking as I stand and move to the window. Her office looks out the front of the building, and Bran is out there. A light drizzle has started and he’s pacing the parking lot near his car, seemingly oblivious to the fact that he’s getting wet. He stops and looks toward the door I entered through, then paces some more.

I turn back to Mary. “Okay. What do I do?”

“Just have a seat,” she says, motioning to the couch.

I move toward it. “Should I lay down?”

“Only if you want to,” she says.

Instead, I curl into the corner and pull my knees to my chest.

She takes me through the basic drill and says at any point if I want to bring myself back to a full conscious state, I only have to count backwards from five.

“Ready?” she asks me.

I nod.

She briefly goes over the instructions again and then counts to five.

“Are you comfortable, Lilah?” she asks.

“I don’t feel any different,” I say, honestly.

“Then we’re right on track,” she says. “I’m going to ask you a few questions. Feel free to answer only what you’re comfortable with.”

“Okay.”

“We already talked about your expulsion from school,” she starts. “You got home, then what happened?”

My mind slips effortlessly back to that gray day. I feel the mist collecting on my face as I trudge toward home.

I’m walking alone because someone from Lo’s group home came for her, but the school couldn’t reach my parents to talk to them about my suspension, so they finally let me go on my own. When I get to the house, I can hear yelling from the sidewalk, which is nothing new. Someone’s always yelling. Usually Dad. Stoned people aren’t as mellow as you’d think.

I walk in and find the source of the yelling is some massive guy I’ve never seen before. He’s younger than Dad and has a raised red scar down his left cheek.

“You said that last week!” he screams, spittle flying from his mouth into Dad’s face.

Dad’s in the same stained wife-beater he’s been wearing for the last week, the fringe of his stringy dark hair long and wild around his face. And he’s stoned, as usual. I can tell by the way he just stares at the guy for too long before answering. “I fucked up, but I’ll get your cash.”

When I close the door behind me, they both look up.

“What are you looking at?” Dad snarls.

I take the stairs two at a time up to my room. When I glance down from the top, the guy is watching me.

“I know who has money,” Dad says, but I don’t wait to hear who. I close my bedroom door and lock it, then curl onto my mattress on the floor and press my pillow over my head.

The bang a few minutes later sounds like something exploding, even through my pillow, I toss it aside and hear Destiny scream, “Get the fuck out of here!”

“Your pop says you’re stashing cash. He owes me.” It’s muffled through the wall, but there’s no mistaking the gravel voice of the guy from downstairs.

“I don’t have any cash,” Destiny says, but it’s a lie. She’s been working secretly at night and putting the money away to get us out of here.

There’s another crash, things being tossed.

“You don’t want to give me the cash?” the guy bellows. “I got another idea how your pop can settle his debt.”

When Destiny screams, I grab my knife and move to the hall. Dad’s not there. The wood of Destiny’s door frame is splintered around the latch.

The huge guy has Destiny pinned against the wall with a massive hand across her throat. He’s torn her leggings and underwear and is his pushing down his pants. Her face is purple and she’s choking out garbled sounds as she tries to push him away.

There’s a second I can’t make a sound, but when the guy groans, I finally find my voice.

“Get off her!”

He looks over his shoulder at me. “I’ll get off her when I’m done. Then your dad’s gonna finish paying me back when I fuck you too.”

His dick out of his pants. It’s hard and purple. I’ve never seen one like that before and there’s a second all I can do is stare.

“You like what you see, little girl? How ‘bout you come here and suck it.” He grabs Destiny’s hair and knocks her head hard against the wall twice. She goes down in a heap and he lunges for my arm. I swing out with the knife. Because my attention is so focused between his legs, that’s where the point lands. It sinks through the hairy white flesh where his leg meets his body.

“You little bitch!” he bellows, swinging a fist into my face. It connects and I feel a firecracker go off in my cheek. I stagger back, but I have a death grip on the knife and it rips through his leg when I pull it out.

My ass hits the floor as blood spurts in a stream from the gash in his leg, just like in the movies. He comes for me again, but stumbles when his leg won’t hold him. He goes down on a knee, then drops to his hands.

“You fucking cunt!” he growls, but it doesn’t have the threat behind it now. It’s more a mix of horrified disbelief. He makes another grab for me and gets my leg, but when I kick out and slash at his arm with the knife, he howls and rolls onto his back, pressing a hand to where blood is still gushing from his leg.

“What the fuck!”

Dad’s voice comes from behind me and I spin, the bloody knife still in my hand. His eyes are wild, and standing in the splintered door, he looks just like Jack Nicholson in that scene from
The Shining
.

I drop the knife and backpedal to the wall, barely caring that I’m only a few inches from the bleeding guy. He’s pale now, and his screams have tapered into groans.

“Leave her alone.” Destiny’s voice is a choked rasp.

When I look toward her, she’s pulling herself to her feet, her leggings torn and hanging from one thigh. Dad starts toward me, but Destiny lunges for the knife. She’s too unsteady, though, and goes down on the floor.

Dad scoops the knife off the bloody carpet with one hand and fists his other into her hair. He presses the tip to her forehead. “This what you wanted? What was your plan? Gonna slit your old man’s throat?”

I curl into a ball and press my eyelids shut tight when a trickle of blood starts down Destiny’s forehead. My heart’s pounding in my throat, choking off my scream.

I didn’t save her. Dad is going to kill us both.

But then there’s an earsplitting crack.

I open my eyes and Mom’s standing behind Dad. She’s wobbly on her feet, and barely more than a skeleton, with sunken, red rimmed eyes and cracked lips. But in her hand is a crow bar, and on the floor is my dad, blood pouring from a dent in his head just over his right ear.

She drops to the floor on her knees. “Get cleaned up,” she says. “Get dressed and go. I got this.”

The scene fades and I blink, not sure how much I said out loud.

“Lilah?” Mary asks. “What did you recall?”

“Nothing.” I say, an uncontrollable tremor shaking my body.

“I can’t help if you don’t talk to me.”

I feel like I’ve been hit by a freight train. I hurt all over, and I’m shaking so hard I can barely speak. “My friend is in the parking lot. I need him.”

She looks at me a long time before gaining her feet. “I’ll walk you out.”