Broken Trouble (Broken Storm Series Book 1)

Chapter 19

The ride back to the ranch was filled with awkward silence, the air in the truck made me feel claustrophobic. The need to open a window for fresh air kept nagging at me, but I refused to move, not wanting to draw attention to myself.

I barely even noticed when Starre's truck separated from the rest, heading towards her own house.

I knew there was no immediate danger to myself, but with what had happened, I could never be sure of how things would go when we got back to the ranch. Just because I wasn't the one who did something completely insane and stupid, didn't mean I wouldn't be the one blamed for it.

I knew that from experience. I had always been the one to take the blame for others mistakes, rather it was the person punishing me or someone else, it was always my fault. I was the one that was held responsible. I was the one who received the beating.

The last time it had happened, was by the last people who had adopted me. Their daughter had came home late one night from a party, drunk and high, too out of it for the parents to be able to punish her right away for it. So, instead of confronting their daughter about it in the morning, they had came to my room, looking for an outlet for their anger and disappointment.

I hadn't been expecting anything that night, already asleep in my bed when they stormed in. Being woke up to having someone dragging me off bed and onto the floor to receive a beating had surprised me. Instead of curling up into a protective ball and waiting the beating out like I normally did, I had scrambled up and tried to get away. When the woman grabbed me, I had backhanded her.

It was the worst mistake I could have made at that moment and the beating was worse because of it. I could still remember the man's fists landing punch after punch as his wife screamed hysterically, scratching and yanking at my hair while making sure I hadn't been able to curl into a fetal position to protect myself.

When they had finally exhausted themselves with beating me, the man had carried me out onto the balcony and threw me off it.

Their pool had broke my fall, though in the state I had been in, which was barely conscious, I couldn't swim very well. I had clung to a blow up duck for what felt like hours, until I finally had the energy to get to the edge of pool and crawl out, right before I passed out.

When I'd woken up a bit before dawn, I had walked away from that house and never looked back.

That night was the reason why I kept my doors blocked or locked now.

I had spent a few months being passed from foster home to foster home, until I had left one and wound up at the ranch, accidentally burning down their barn. I twisted the end of my shirt in my hand nervously as we pulled up into the ranch yard. I was slow to get out of the car and even slower to head inside. There was a grim mood that hung over tonight, which I only felt when something really bad was happening.

Jayden had hurt himself, almost getting himself killed, and the night wasn't even over with. Now it was punishment time and I braced myself, wondering if and how they would twist this around so I was the blame of it all.

When a hand brushed my back lightly, I flinched and lurched away from the touch, my body shooting straight into flight mode.

What stopped me from running was looking back and seeing Wyatt's eyes as he watched my reaction, his body relaxed and his eyes holding a calmness in them that was contagious.

I had shown my weakness by flinching away from him and he obviously had no intentions of hitting me. I bowed my head, avoiding his eyes in embarrassment.

We stood there in awkward silence for a minute before he moved forward, holding an arm out behind me and waiting. I looked up into his eyes in question, but only found the ever lasting patience that made Wyatt who he was. Instead of touching me again, he was offering the same gesture as before, only this time waiting for me to accept it.