Surviving Storm by Nicola Jane EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Authors: Nicola Jane
- Language: English
- Genre: Erotic Mysteries
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
LOTTIE
Mental health. Everything comes back to mental health. I stare blankly at
the counsellor. She’s got no interest in me. They never have. I could spill
my guts out to this woman and never see her again, then I’d have to tell the
exact same story tomorrow to the next one. It’s a pointless game we keep
playing.
“So, you’re telling me this was an accident,” she says doubtfully.
I nod. “What can I say, a TikTok video gone wrong.” I shrug, and she
stares at me for a few seconds before signing the paperwork.
“I’m gonna check on you tomorrow,” she says. “Will you be at this
address?” She holds up the clubhouse address.
“Yes,” I mutter.
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“And who is collecting you today?”
“I’m not sure,” I say. “My brother or one of his brothers.” She frowns in
confusion, but I ignore her and send a text off to Sara, my real brother’s ol’
lady.
Me: Can you come get me from the hospital? Small accident when
making a TikTok, nothing to worry about but don’t tell Lake.
Sara: I can’t lie to your brother. I’ll send someone to get you now.
Wait at the main entrance.
Me: It isn’t lying, it’s just not telling him.
Lake’s been in my life for a few months now and we’re working on our
relationship. It’s not perfect by far. Our mum left us both, although I spent
longer with her. She had Lake young and gave him up for adoption. I was
born a few years later, and she tried to be a mum but got it so wrong, so I
ended up in care just like Lake.
I stand outside in the cold. It’s freezing today, and I came here in
pyjamas. Hearing the rumble of a bike, I sigh with relief, but that soon
vanishes when Storm, the newest club member who transferred from
Nottingham, stops at the kerb and takes off his helmet to assess me with his
dark eyes. I reckon my counsellor would take one look at this hot mess and
tell me he’s a psychopath. It’s something in his eyes.
He steps off the bike and moves towards me with the stealth of a lethal
animal. Without a word, he grabs my arm. I try to pull away, but he’s strong
and his grip is bruising as he pushes up my sleeve. He stares at the
bandages and then, without any questions, tugs and unwinds the sticky tape.
I’m either too shocked or too mortified to object.
He stares at the deep lacerations across my arm with interest, pressing
his thumb next to the deepest one. Spots of blood pool on the surface and it
coats his digit. “What are you doing?” I whisper, almost as mesmerised as
he is.
His brow furrows because I’ve interrupted his trance-like state, and he
wraps the bandage back around my arm. I gasp when he pops his thumb
into his mouth to clean my blood away.
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