Page 55 of Shattered Oaths

Shaking my head at myself, I roll the paint on the barn walls faster, needing a distraction. Thankfully, Hunter reappears and joins me, picking up his own paint brush.

Just a few short months ago, I was sick of hearing about his wedding. But now I’m that desperate for something,anythingto help take my mind off Bella that I find myself turning to him, paintbrush in hand and saying, “So, how’s wedding planning going?”

CHAPTER 24

BELLA

The dull thud that has lingered behind my eyes all morning deepens as I push open the door to the hellhole that is my childhood home.

The putrid scent of stale vodka and mouldy food smacks me in the face with a violence that makes my already sensitive stomach roll. My top lip curls involuntarily.

“Mom?” I call out, holding back a gag.

I could try to breathe through my mouth opposed to my nose but I’m afraid of inhaling something that might possibly kill me. I lift my t-shirt over my nose instead. Not that it does much.

“Mmm,” a mumbled response comes from deeper within the house and it’s quickly followed by a loud retching sound.

Same, sis.

With burning eyes, I tiptoe, yes,tiptoebecause I’m afraid my shoes will stick to thecarpet, through the living room and past the kitchen toward the downstairs bathroom.

The door is open, my mom’s feet poking out of it as she kneels on the dirty tile and throws up into the toilet bowl.

Concern hits me and I step a little closer. “Are you okay?”

She heaves again; this time nothing coming out and nods her head. “F-fine.”

“Are you sure?” I ask, my t-shirt still pulled over my nose.Thank God.The smell of the house might not have been enough to send my stomach over the edge, but the smell of vomit definitely would have.

I step back into the kitchen and search for a clean cup. It takes three attempts of opening cupboards before I find one and I eye it wearily, not certain it’s clean at all.

Rinsing it under the tap quickly, I fill it with water and return to the bathroom, offering it to my mom. Her head lifts, turning slightly and she shakes her head, pushing the cup away with a disgusted grunt.

“You need some water,” I insist, pushing the drink back at her. She rejects my offer again and I roll my eyes.

After another few minutes, my mom moves to stand on shaky legs and my arms shoot out, nose protection forgotten as I ready to catch her if she falls. She tuts, shooing my hands away as she pushes past me.

“What do you want?” She finally asks, her voice hoarse from the years of chain-smoking and the violent throw-up session.

I scoff. “Nice to see you, too,Mother. I brought you some food.”

Her eyes scan the kitchen, landing on the bag of groceries I dumped on the countertop as I passed it. Shesniffs, wiping at her mouth with the sleeve of the ratty over shirt she’s wearing.

She doesn’t thank me for the food. Not that I expected it at this point. But instead, she turns and pulls the fridge door open, reappearing with a glass bottle that’s half filled with clear liquid. My blood boils.

“Are you fucking serious right now?” I almost yell, yanking the bottle from her grip as she brings it to her mouth. Liquid spills down her chin and her weathered grey eyes widen.

“What do you think you’re doing?” She gasps, lunging for the bottle and I hold it above my head.

“You’ve just thrown up the entire contents of your stomach and the first thing you reach for isvodka?!”My voice is loud, my tone incredulous as anger builds inside of me.

“I don’t see what the problem is, Isabella,” she argues, reaching for the bottle again.

“The problem,Mom,is that you are killing yourself. Don’t you see that?” Despite my anger, my voice hitches on that last part, my eyes burning with tears that I refuse to shed.

This isn’t the first time I’ve had to physically wrestle the bottle out of her grasp. It’s not the first time I’ve had this exact argument with her. But unlike my brother, I’m not able to just give up on her.

Killian still pays the bills. He keeps the lights on and the water running, but that’s it. He used to give her an allowance of some kind, but that stopped when she disrespected his wife. And as much as I wish I was capable of just walking away and never looking back, I can’t.