Damaged: The Dillon Sisters by Layla Frost (good story books to read .txt) 📕

closed behind me but I still heard him shout, “That one!”

My grin faded as I walked Muppet down the hallway. Someone had doused themselves in perfume and it gave me an instant headache. It clung in my nostrils, making my stomach churn.

The privacy, no shared walls, and no shared common areas were even more reasons to prefer Alexander’s. His house smelled like him, not the scent of five different dinners mixing unappetizingly with someone’s cloying perfume.

I walked Muppet out to where my sister always parked. One of these days, I would invite her in to see my apartment, but not when I was already doing something as big as meeting her new man. And definitely not when it would mean her meeting mine. I wasn’t ready for that yet.

Ripping the Band-Aid off may have had its perks, but there was something to say for baby steps.

Approaching a big ass SUV, my steps slowed when my sister got out with a man. They looked like an expensive advertisement. She was all athletic body, gleaming hair, and professionally chic. Her chic may have come from fashion dupes, but she wore them better than most wore the real stuff.

And him?

My sister had done well.

Maybe not as well as I’d done with Alexander. I was biased, but still. Brando was a good representation of tall, dark, and handsome.

There was an edge to him that was a little scary, but I didn’t think that was a bad thing.

After the life we’d lived, we probably needed someone with an edge. Definitely more than we needed someone with a sweater vest.

“You smell awful,” Aria complained when I got within sniffing distance.

“Wow. Hello to you, too.”

“Did you shatter a perfume bottle?”

“No, the hallway is a delightful plethora of scents.”

Even though I stunk, Aria pulled me into a hug that I returned with one arm. Her brows were practically in her hairline when she pulled away, but before she could say anything, Muppet stole the show.

Way to help your auntie out, genius boy.

Jumping and barking, he greeted Brando like a long-lost pal he hadn’t seen in years.

I already like Brando because Aria liked him. But I trusted him because Muppet liked him.

“Gotta get this dog into manner school, Doc,” Brando said, though that didn’t stop him from scratching Muppet’s ears.

“Eventually,” Aria evaded.

“Soon.”

“Those places cost an arm and a leg.” She crouched on her heels to love on her pup. “And unlike some people, the only markers I have are made by Crayola.”

I gave a low whistle. “You sprung for name brand markers?”

“No, you know I live the dupe life. I can offer store brand markers.” Gracefully standing like she was the one with years of pageant experience, she made her introductions. “Briar, this is Brand. Brand, this is my sister, Briar.”

I accepted his outstretched hand. Muppet must’ve felt left out because he jumped up to push his snout against our grasp.

“How was my boy today?” Aria asked.

“Perfection as usual.”

“You’re just as enabling as Aria,” Brand muttered, but there was no venom or condemnation in his tone. It was resigned.

And that made me like him even more.

Aria rolled her eyes then focused them on me. “You look tired.”

“First I smell and now I look like shit? The flattery.” I pressed my palm to my chest. “It’s too much for my already inflated ego.”

“You know what I mean. Are you okay?”

“Yes. My under-eye bags and I are awesome, thanks for asking.” When she just gave me an expectant look, I dropped the snark. “I really am good. Promise.”

“What’re you up to tonight?”

Getting fucked so hard and so well, I won’t be able to walk to the door to get our takeout.

Which is also why I’m both tired and good.

“The usual,” I said. “What about you?”

“Brand’s going to teach me how to grill steak.” I opened my mouth, but before I could say anything, she amended, “Try to teach me.”

“Good luck,” I told Brand.

Brand shook his head and shrugged. I had a feeling he knew his task was a big one.

Aria and me…

Blue eyes.

Unconditional love for each other and Muppet.

A preference for edgy men.

And zero, absolutely zero, cooking skills.

It was the Dillon sister way.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Lucky

Briar

For being different

SOMETHING WAS WRONG.

Call it intuition.

Call it a premonition.

Call it paranoia, a pessimist’s mindset, or a knack.

Call it Great Aunt Sally for all I cared.

All I knew was I was right and something was wrong.

Walking through the lobby of Redmond Mental Health Center, the recycled air was stuffier and more claustrophobic than usual. There was a wired undercurrent.

And it was fucking heavy.

Once I was seated in the group room, the sensation didn’t dissipate. It grew.

Derrick looked sad at the best of times. But when he walked in after me, he looked clinically depressed. Like he should be sitting in the chair next to me and not leading the session. Another woman followed him in and lingered back, but it was Derrick who spoke. “I have some news to share.”

“Hold on,” Meghan said. “We have to wait for Jenna.”

But I already knew we wouldn’t be waiting. Because the specter of Death… he didn’t just haunt me.

Jenna was dead.

_______________

“I’M A GRIEF counselor here at the center. If anyone needs to talk, I’m always available.”

Jenna would need to talk.

Jenna fucking loved to talk.

Why didn’t she talk to me when she needed it?

“Because you can’t even help yourself,” the woman said.

“Rude,” I shouted. “I mean, yeah, true. But still. Rude.”

Except she didn’t respond. No one did.

No one would look at me. And for once, I wanted them to.

I screamed.

Until my throat was raw.

There was a heavy metal clank, and Alexander filled the opened doorway.

“Thank God,” I breathed, going to him.

Going through him, his body fading to a mist that made my stomach ache.

Then, he was gone.

They all were gone.

And I was tired.

So.

Very.

Tired.

“Briar.” Someone shook my shoulders. My lids shot open.

I was awake, but the dream still gripped my frantically beating heart. Not because Alexander was crouched next to where I was curled up on the couch and he was something