Free Thorn: Carter Kids #2 by Chloe Walsh

“Come on.”
    “It’s true,” I hiccupped, handing him the bottle. “I wouldn’t know what to do with a man anymore.”
    “Well that makes two of us.” Sean slumped back and took a deep draw from the bottle. “I’m going through a serious dry spell, Teagan. Six months.”
    “Ha,” I grumbled, not feeling one bit sorry for Sean. “That’s nothing.” If six months was classed as a dry spell then I was living in a drought. “Try going without any for two years and then come back to me.”
    “You could always have Liam,” Sean offered after a moment before bursting out laughing.
    “Funny,” I shot back crankily. “But no, thanks all the same.”
    “Why not?” Twisting on the couch, he faced me. “He’s crazy about you, Teagan – always has been by the sounds of it. And you two had that thing back in secondary school.”
    “Liam and I are just friends,” I declared, flustered at the thought of being anything more than that. “Seriously, Sean,” I said crossly when he waggled his eyebrows at me. “We are just friends.”
    “Then you might want to tell him that,” Sean scoffed. “That guy has a soft spot for you.”
    “No he doesn’t,” I grumbled, not liking where this conversation was going. “Can we change the subject now? Please ?”
    “Fine. Suit yourself,” he replied, holding his hands up in the air. “But I really think you ought to give the guy a chance.”
    “I can’t give Liam a chance, Sean, because I’m still not over the last guy I gave a chance to,” I snapped. “So just back off. Okay?”
    Sean’s mouth curved into a knowing smile. “So that’s it,” he whispered as if the whole world suddenly made perfect sense. “You’ve been burned.”
    “I guess if you call having your heart annihilated burned, then yes, I’ve been burned before,” I grumbled. “I’m still burning.”
    “Want to talk about it?” he asked.
    “Nope.”
    “Want to get drunk?”
    “Definitely.”

 

     
    AS TIME PASSED BY, and my heart grew harder, shriveled up and died in my chest, I allowed myself to forget all about JD Dennis and his threat that night. I knew he was still out there, somewhere, but I didn’t care. I had nothing left to lose. All I cared about now was fighting…well, fighting and the sadist sitting on the bunk in front of me.
    “Stop moving, man, fuck!” Lucky hissed, shoving me backwards with the palm of his hand.
    “I’m trying,” I hissed out through clenched teeth, as I wrapped my hands around the metal bunk and braced myself for the pain. “Fuck, Lucky, I thought you said you knew what you were doing?”
    “I do,” my one friend in this shit hole of a place replied as he inked the side of my ribcage. “So stop crying like a bitch and let the master work his magic.”
    “Look at me,” I snarled, clenching the bars of the bunk when it felt like he was going to cut through my ribs. “I’m fucking bleeding out here.”
    I wasn’t a stranger to pain, but letting Lucky tat me with his fucked up concoction of ink was almost unbearable. “Fuck!” I hissed, when he nicked me for what had to be the fiftieth time. Throwing an arm forward, I swiped the cigarette that was balancing between his lips, and put it to my mouth, inhaling deeply.
    “There,” he mumbled, “Done.”
    Inhaling one final drag, I passed Lucky his smoke and climbed off the bed. “Jesus Christ,” I growled, looking down at my tender, bloodstained skin. “You fucking butchered me, man.”
    “You wanted a thorn in your side, Messina,” Lucky drawled, leaning back from where he was perched on the bottom bunk. Chuckling, he admired his handiwork with a shit-eating grin on his face. “And it looks like you’ve got one.”
     

     
    TODAY WAS NOAH’S BIRTHDAY and I found myself, like every birthday before that, standing in front of the postbox at the end of my street with a crumpled envelope in my hands. I had lost count of the number of times I wrote him a letter, only to chicken out