Promise Me Once by Paige Weaver

Author:Paige Weaver [Weaver, Paige]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Romance, Alpha Male, New Adult, Contemporary Romance
Publisher: Paige Weaver LLC
Published: 2015-04-17T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty–Four

Cat

“Your feet okay?”

I replaced the last bandage on my heel and looked at Keely. “They’re fine,” I said in a clipped tone. The truth was my feet were a mess but there wasn’t anything anyone could do about it. Might as well tell a little white lie and move on. “I won’t be wearing heels anytime soon but I’ll survive. I just won’t look good while doing it.”

The soft glow of a candle gave me just enough light to see Keely smile. I didn’t want to return it with one of my own because, shit, the world was falling apart. But the real reason I didn’t want to smile was because every single time I looked at her, I thought of Cash.

And that made me feel guilty.

I just couldn’t bring myself to tell Keely that I knew her brother. It didn’t matter anyway. It was one night. There would never be another.

“I like your apartment. It’s much nicer than mine,” Keely said, looking around from her position on my bed.

I frowned at her. “You live right next door, Keely. It’s the same apartment.”

She blushed. At least I thought she did but in the candlelight it was hard to tell.

“I…I like your furniture,” she said.

“Hmm.” I sighed. For the past hour we had been trying to make small talk but were failing big time. It was just a lame attempt to keep our minds off of what was happening, but it was impossible to forget.

“Hungry?” Keely asked, offering me one of the granola bars she had found in her apartment. Candlelight flickered over us, giving me just enough light to see what she held in her hand but it didn’t look appetizing.

“No,” I said, scrunching up my face at the cardboard-looking bar. But if I got desperate enough, I would eat it. My cabinets were bare. I wasn’t home enough to keep anything in them except for a bottle of tequila and a box of cereal. My meals came from restaurants or the little hipster coffee shops around campus.

Even if I did have food, if it needed to be cooked or refrigerated we would be up shit creek. The oven and stove wouldn’t work without electricity and the fridge sat dark and empty, warm and smelly.

“I’ll save it for Tate then,” Keely whispered, tucking the granola bar back in the messenger bag she had carried from her apartment.

I looked down at my brother. He was curled up on the bed, his back against my side. His knees were drawn up to his chest and his hand was under his cheek. I wanted to reach out and touch his shaggy brown hair, push it out of his eyes like I did when he was younger. Instead, I resisted. I didn’t want to wake him. If he could escape the fear and uncertainty of what was happening for just a few hours, I would let him. God knows I wanted to.

I looked around my dark room. We had been locked up in the apartment for nine hours.

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