Read Online Complicated: A Tainted Love Novella by Ghiselle St. James - Free Book Online

front of the other, I step into my sister’s bedroom and sit on her bed.
    Flashes of memory flood me and it makes the dread build even more:
     

    I hear sniffling in the laundry room. It’s after twelve at night on a Friday and I just came in from a party with friends. I’d been pre-occupied all night, a certain strawberry blonde racing through my mind. It was approaching Rachel’s sixteenth birthday and we had discussed that that would be the day we take the next step. Every time it crosses my mind, my dick gets hard. Fuck.
    I can’t wait.
    Quiet whimpers sound out from behind the laundry door and my senses go on high alert. My parents are asleep, Rachel is at home, so there can only be one person crying in this room. Delilah.
    It breaks my heart to hear or see her cry, but more importantly, the shit makes me murderous.
    “Delilah,” I softly beckon.
    I hear shuffling behind the door and further sniffling, then a muffled ow , before I hear her answer, “Just a minute. Just, um, putting some clothes away.”
    “Lilah, I heard you crying in there, open up,” I tell her.
    She sighs heavily and slowly, slowly , opens the door. When I finally see her, puffy eyes greet me. I clench down and grind my teeth so hard that it’s a wonder they don’t turn to dust. My fists ball tightly and I feel bones pop in my knuckles from the force of it. Whoever made her cry is gonna fucking wish they hadn’t. I may be a budding lawyer, but Marshall Keyes senior didn’t raise a pansy.
    “What’s wrong, Lilah?” I ask as calmly as I can, which isn’t very calmly at all.
    “Marshall, it’s fine,” she dismisses, going to close the door on me.
    I shove my foot in and push it wider open. “Bullshit, Lilah, what’s wrong?” I demand.
    She groans and dashes falling tears away frustratingly. “It’s a boy,” she answers.
    Fucking boys .
    “What happened?” I ask softer now. As a big brother, I’ve found that certain topics have to be approached in different ways. Boy issues have to be treaded softly, with more compassion.
    She takes a large shuddering breath and everything tumbles out of her, “He told all his friends that I was a slut and they harassed me tonight, wanting me to put out. When I refused, they ridiculed me and embarrassed me in front of a bunch of plastic cheerleader bitches. Of course, I kicked him in his junk and threw beer on the rest, but it…it hurt.”
    “Who?” I am pissed and poised, ready to strike like a fucking snake. No one hurts my sister.
    “Wes Carrington,” she whispers, looking down.
    …of the Manhattan Carringtons.
    Fucking privileged son of a bitch. He and Delilah had been hot and heavy for the past two weeks. I asked her about him last night and she said she got bored and dumped him. Some guys would say that she asked for that treatment, that she can’t go around playing with guys’ feelings, but embarrassing and harassing a girl because she rejects you is a douchebag move, and I won’t let this douchebag get away with it.
    And he didn’t…if his apologizing to my sister the following afternoon – with a black eye and busted lip – was any indication.
     
 
    As I stare off through her window, silent tears trailing down my face, I wonder if she is safe…alive. I send up a silent prayer, hoping against all hope that she is and that she comes back to us soon.
    Her birthday is in two days. What a gift that would be.

Chapter Eight

    Rachel
     
    I heard the soft sobs drifting into my room and the sound was like a swift kick to the gut. Not until this horrible situation had I ever heard a man cry. It took the captivity of blinding light to plunge these very manly men, and myself, into utter darkness. The only sliver of light I have seen has come through being with Marshall again, but the pain is still there. The gaping hole left by Delilah’s absence is impossible to not notice, and being in this apartment again without her here makes my heart ache more than I can describe with