Damaged: The Dillon Sisters Layla Frost (ebook reader with highlighter .txt) 📖

Impulse pet adoption may have been high on my list of pet peeves—pun intended—for anyone else, but Aria wasn’t just anyone. I knew she’d give the former puppy mill pup a great home. And, selfishly, I was looking forward to playing with whichever one she got.

I’d be the cool pup-aunt—all the fun, none of the responsibility. I could spoil him good and then send him home.

We talked about her free-but-not-really-free dinner before my stress forced its way past the awkwardness, making me blurt, “Seriously, though. Are you gonna be okay? Between loans and starting the practice... I can give you some money.”

And by I, I meant Alexander because I was broke as a joke.

“How do you have extra money to lend?” Her shock was clear as day.

“I’m a hermit who hates shopping.”

And there are advantages to… dating? Sleeping with? Putting the fun in dysfunctional with?

Whatever. There are advantages to having an entanglement with a tech nerd rich dude.

Aria swore she’d be fine before we hung up so she could go on her date with the hot firefighter. And, since I was trying to be an adult like her, I refrained from making a joke about her touching his hose.

I just encouraged her to lose her panties on the way home.

Baby steps toward adulthood.

I tossed my phone down and pressed play to resume my Netflix binge, but the unease that sat heavy on my chest made it impossible to focus. I braided, unbraided, and rebraided my hair—something that usually grounded me. But it didn’t work.

If I were with Alexander, he’d be able to distract me with his mouth. Either with his banter, his kiss, or his oral skills. Any or all would work. Unfortunately, he’d had to go to his Portland offices and wouldn’t be back until the next morning. It was a good thing I’d resisted his sexual manipulation and hadn’t agreed to stay at his place, otherwise I’d have had to explain to Aria why I needed her to drop Muppet off at a secluded, mystery house.

She may have bought that I could give her a loan because I was a hermit, but I doubt she’d believe I could afford that mansion thanks to my frugal spending.

With no other diversion, I kept thinking about Aria and her three Ds—debt, dog, and date.

She didn’t want my help with the debt. And there was no way I was helping with the date—we weren’t a Jerry Springer episode. But I could, and was excited to, help with the dog.

Bringing up the discount pet supply website the rescue used, I started browsing items for Muppet. He’d need a bed, of course. Balls and chew toys, definitely. And if I wanted to be his favorite, I’d need to stock up on treats. The good meaty kind, not the cheap crap. I wasn’t above bribery.

I added everything I wanted to the cart before texting Sue to ask if I could use the shelter’s code to knock the price down even more. Even though I was spending money I didn’t really have—apparently that was the new Dillon sister motto—it helped settle my anxiety.

For a few minutes.

Until a thought occurred to me, making it roar louder than before.

If Alexander would’ve killed me like I wanted… Or if he hadn’t stopped me from taking a razor to my veins…

I wouldn’t be here to help Aria. I wouldn’t be here to watch Muppet.

The realization was like an itch. Brief. A blip. But once it happened, it grew. It spread. It buzzed and burned until it was all-consuming and impossible to ignore.

Rather than going to the auction, my poor sister would’ve been dealing with the repercussions of my selfishness. She wouldn’t have rescued Muppet. She wouldn’t be getting ready for a date with a firefighter.

She’d be too busy grieving and feeling guilty that she hadn’t been able to fix me.

My heart thumped wildly in my chest, pounding so hard, it tripped over itself. Sweat beaded on my forehead and moistened my palms even as I shivered from the ice that slushed through my veins.

Dealing with me was a burden to Aria.

But me trying to rid Aria of that burden was selfish and cowardly.

Round and round, my thoughts circled. Twisting. Tying. Like thorny vines, they wrapped around me, squeezing and slicing until I couldn’t breathe.

Until my very existence hurt.

My phone rang and rang, but I didn’t pick it up.

Couldn’t.

I knew he’d be able to hear the pain in my voice.

When the ringing stopped, it buzzed with a text. I could lie in a text.

Tech Nerd: What’s wrong?

Me: What? Nothing.

Tech Nerd: Don’t lie to me, flower, I can see something is wrong.

See?

A crackle filled the air, making me jolt as tears sprung to my eyes.

“I’ll be right there, flower,” the warbly voice said.

The cameras. He replaced the fucking cameras.

Whether it was warbly from the tech or the blood roaring in my ears, I wasn’t sure.

“No!” I shouted, but the crackling was gone. I picked up my phone and tried to return Alexander’s call, but it was his turn to not answer.

Me: I’m fine, I swear. Don’t come over.

Standing, I grabbed the camera he’d put back on my window. I held it up and forced lightness I didn’t feel. “I thought you told me you weren’t a total stalker. Nothing is wrong. I’m fine.”

It was all a lie.

He was a total stalker.

Everything was wrong.

And I was far from fine.

Would someone who was fine be fucking their stalker?

No.

No, they would not.

I threw the camera into the garbage and grabbed my phone to shoot off another text in case he hadn’t been watching.

Me: Nothing is wrong, stalker. I’m fine. See you tomorrow.

I should’ve gone in search of other cameras. I should’ve done something more productive than sitting on my kitchen floor in front of the garbage, fighting the vomit and bile that was choking me.

But I didn’t.

Couldn’t.

I sat there, staring at old tea bags, takeout containers, and the damn stalker cam as I wondered.

I