{18+ COMPLETE} For the past three years, Bren Hadaway has been preparing to die.
When he was sixteen, he watched his dad murder his mom. And ever since, he's been counting down the days until it was his turn to be at the end of a gun. And Bren has...
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When I woke up the next morning, it didn't take me long to realize that I was alone. A warmth was missing.
I jerked up, scanning the room for Bren.
He wasn't there.
He was gone. Gone. He was gone.
Stiff white sheets, a faint beeping noise, a pain deep in my chest, a pounding in my head.
Where was the boy with soft brown eyes—the one who told me I was worth everything?
If I was worth everything, why did he leave?
The door creaked open, jerking me out of my thoughts, out of my paralysis. The beeping stopped, the pain subsided. And all because Bren slipped silently into the room.
His head was bent, shaggy hair hanging over his eyes. It took him forever to close the door, trying to do it without making a noise. But this house was like a hundred years old, so it was an impossible mission.
When he turned, his eyes—those soft brown eyes—grew wide at seeing me awake and sitting up.
I breathed.
Had I been holding that?
No wonder I'd felt like I was going to pass out.
A dark, pained expression spread over Bren's face, and he turned around for a moment, resting his head against the back of the door. I jumped as his hand slapped against the solid wood. He stayed like that for a while—resting on the door. I honestly wasn't sure for how long.
But when he did turn back around, everything had returned to normal. He gave me a small smile and walked over to the bed. "I was just in the bathroom. Sorry, baby." His voice was so quiet, so reserved. "I didn't mean to scare you."
He knew. He knew exactly what I'd been thinking. I nodded, finally relaxing at hearing him. At seeing him coming closer to me.
His wandering gaze turned appreciative, and though it tried to stay on my face, I could see the struggle in his eyes.
And that's when I remembered I was naked.
I also remembered all of the things Bren had done last night, all of the very bad—but entirely good—things. I felt my cheeks flame as he continued to stare at me. I couldn't resist pulling the blanket up to my chin.
"Oh, so you're shy now?" Bren asked, teasing. He walked over and flopped down on the bed, resting his head on his hand, posing. "Last night you were all...draw me like one of your French girls, Bren." I couldn't help but laugh, and he added, "Except now we have iPhones, so, you know." He tossed me a lazy smile. "But you had the necklace and everything."
I gave him a little shove and then disappeared completely beneath the blankets, embarrassed. God, I couldn't believe that I'd done that. I didn't regret it—I just literally couldn't believe that I'd donethat.
