Nothing Feels Better by Brit Benson

Author:Brit Benson [Benson, Brit]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Amazon: B09WW3VQ7L
Goodreads: 57992131
Publisher: Brit Benson Books
Published: 2022-05-23T00:00:00+00:00

“Your test is tomorrow?” Jesse asks later, and I nod.

We’re snuggled up on the living room floor under a blanket because, after coming down my throat, Jesse claimed his legs wouldn’t work.

“You want to celebrate after?”

I shake my head no. “I actually have an appointment with a tattoo artist.”

“Sexy,” he purrs into my hair, and I laugh. “Rib tat?” I’m momentarily taken aback before I remember that he has my list memorized.

“Yeah.” As I speak, I drag my fingers up and down the strong forearm that’s wrapped around me. “I always wanted one, but Patrick didn’t like them, so I never got one.”

“I’m glad you’re doing it. What’s it gonna be?”

I grin and press a kiss to his chest. “Secret.”

He chuckles, and we sit in a comfortable silence for a bit. My eyes are drifting closed when he speaks.

“Classic, what happened to June?” His voice is a whisper, but I can still hear the emotion in it. The concern. He’s not just asking because he’s curious. He’s asking because he cares.

“ATV accident,” I say, then take a deep breath. “It was my fault.”

I turn my face, so it’s resting on Jesse’s chest. I breathe him in, and he rubs his hand up and down my back. I focus on that motion, on his touch, when I start talking again.

“We were with a bunch of Patrick’s friends, and they’d all been drinking and riding these ATV trails that one of the guys put all around his property. He owns a farm and a bunch of land just south of here. One of the guys had taken June out on the trails earlier in the day, but that was before they started drinking. I told Patrick, I told all of them, the moment they cracked open the first beer that the kids weren’t to set even a finger on any of those ATVs.”

The familiar anger creeps up like bile burning my throat, and I clamp my eyes shut and breathe through my nose. My eyes sting with regret anyway.

“When Patrick drinks, he gets stupid, and sometimes, he gets mean. But you never really knew when he would get mean, you know? Sometimes he was sweet and fun, and other times, he’d get ruthless. It was like playing Russian Roulette every time he drank.”

I feel Jesse tense, but I don’t stop talking. I can’t. It’s like once I opened the floodgates of this memory, there’s no closing them back up.

“When he drank, I’d usually just keep the kids away from him. It wasn’t hard, really. He’d be gone most of the time, and then, when he finally stumbled home, the kids were already in bed. But this time we were stranded out there on this damn farm. And he was with his friends, and they were drinking and being loud, acting dumb. It was late, I was exhausted, and then Jude started crying. June was sleeping curled up in a lawn chair with a blanket, so I left her, and I took Jude to the truck.

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