AUCTIONED TO THE COWBOYS (AUCTIONED #3) BY STEPHANIE BROTHER – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Authors: Stephanie Brother
- Language: English
- Genre: Contemporary romance
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 4.3 MB
- Price: Free
TAYLOR
THE DEVIL YOU KNOW
Standing in the lingering evening sunlight, I trace my fingers over the
outline of the fading bruise on my cheek.
It doesn’t hurt anymore, but the memory of how it got there lingers
past the pain. The light from the front of the house and the crudely parked,
rusting truck outside reveal my father’s home. The familiar sinking feeling I
get every time I return here takes my breath away.
The bag of buttery pastries and pies clutched in my hand smells
delicious. Hopefully, it’ll be enough to quell his temper. Swallowing hard, I
know I have no choice but to go inside.
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One day at a time.
It’s the only way I get through for Molly.
Glancing again at the neglected house I call home, I drop my head and
carry myself on autopilot along the weed-lined path of our front yard,
careful to avoid the cracks. Voices carry through the front door, and my
heart kicks up a notch. Reaching for my keys, I give myself another
moment before I go inside, trying to control the tremble of my fingers.
I’m careful to open the door quietly, almost holding my breath.
“Taylor!” Molly runs and hurls herself at me as I step into the dingy
hall with its lingering dampness.
She’s still slightly shorter than me, but it won’t be long before she
catches up. I hold her close, and she rests her head against my shoulder. Her
relief at my arrival is palpable, and I plant a kiss firmly on the top of her
head.
“How was the trip today? Did Mrs. Gulliver let you bring some books
home?”
She doesn’t get to answer my question. My father’s shadow looms in
the hallway like a specter. I close the door behind me, even though the
danger is in front of me. He’s accompanied by the smell of sweat, liquor,
and something smoky and stale.
Sensing Molly’s heightened unease, I stroke the top of her head,
curling her silky blonde locks between my fingers to let her know that I’ll
keep her safe.
The four-year age gap between us feels much more significant, as
though the daily trauma we experience has forced me to age and trapped her
in childhood.
I flinch as something flies past me, shattering violently against the door
as splintering glass showers like a rainstorm. The broken pieces fall to the
mat around me and Molly. Glinting in the low light of the hall, they almost
look like frost.
“Make dinner. And clear up this goddamn mess before someone gets
hurt.” Dad turns and staggers back into the den. “You need to lay off the
donuts, girl!” His voice is tinged with ridicule, and I try to block out the
insult, dusting myself down.
After giving no response, I head into the kitchen to find the dustpan. I
don’t take the bait. When I return, Molly’s sunken hazel eyes fix on me,
seeking reassurance.
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