Amongst The Wildflowers (Fleurs d'Amour Book 3)

by Amali Rose

  "Don't look so horrified, Keely. You got off just like I did. Nothing bad happened if you enjoyed it." He points toward my legs. "You might want to clean yourself up before coming back up."

  I wait until he opens the door I'm standing beside, walks though without a second glance and leaves before I look down to my thighs. His release slowly makes its way down my legs, mixed with blood, leaving a pink smear in its path.

  It takes me over an hour to clean up and collect myself enough to walk out the patio doors where the party is now in full swing.

  "Sweetheart, there you are. Where have you been? You missed the announcement." My mother throws her arm over my shoulder, tucking me into her side. "Honey, this is Larry. Larry, this beautiful girl is my Keely Jane."

  Larry, standing a few inches shorter, and about fifty plus pounds heavier than my mother, extends his hand. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Keely. You and your sister are all your mother talks about."

  I just stand there, not responding to the offer of a friendly handshake.

  "Keely, you're being rude." Mom squeezes my shoulder to get my attention.

  "Oh, honey, it's okay. It must be difficult meeting new people." Larry’s smile grows as I feel a presence behind me. "I'd like you to meet my son, Thomas."

  I look over my shoulder and see Thomas, beer in one hand, his other hand in his jeans pocket, looking completely relaxed. "You must be Keely. Nice to finally meet you."

  "Now that the kids have met, I have a couple I want to introduce you to." Larry grabs the hand my mother has draped over my shoulder and leads her away.

  Thomas comes to stand beside me as I look ahead. He takes a swig of his beer before bending down to whisper in my ear, "Bet you hate me now."

  He chuckles, bouncing on the balls of his feet as he takes the few steps off the deck to the grass, fading into the bustling crowd.

  I didn’t know a young woman could grow a hate so raw and consuming in a blink of an eye.

  I do now.

  Chapter 1

  Keely

  "He's gone, Keely. He's fucking gone and it's all my fault."

  "Go pack your stuff, I'll get you on the first plane out of here."

  "He just left. He saw us and he just left."

  His constant mumbling wasn't helping the situation. I needed to light a fire under his ass, and fast. His despair was getting a bit much, so just like the kiss, I did the only thing that came to mind.

  I slapped him, hard.

  His eyes immediately came into focus. "Kee, what have I done?"

  Helping him off the floor, I grab his elbow and wrist and pull him up. "Listen to me." I place both hands on either side of his face and pull him down to my level. "Go pack your shit. I'll call the airline to get you home."

  He stares at me for a few beats, then turns and heads toward his room.

  The image fades all too quickly when I suddenly become aware that someone is standing beside me. Lying on bed sheets that no longer smell of jasmine, but the floral scent of Bounce, I crack an eye open to see the blurry image of a set of knobby, pasty white knees.

  Only one set of knees I know of that can rival those of an eighty-year-old man's... Nala's.

  I lift myself off the bed, just enough to bring my arms up from underneath my stomach, and brace my weight on my elbows. I blink my eyes a few times to get them to focus.

  "About time you woke up. I thought you were dead."

  "Nala?" I tilt my head up to see my sister, dressed in a white wife beater shirt, blue boxer sleeping shorts, and her sandy blonde hair in braided pigtails that hang over her perky tits. "Where am I?"

  "You don't remember?" She takes a sip of the coffee I'm desperate to grab from her.

  "Where am I?" I roll on to my back and take in my surroundings.

  The walls and ceiling are painted black. The bedside table and dresser on the opposite side of the room are fire engine red. The bedding I'm cocooned in is silver. When I look over the side of the bed, I see a black garbage container filled with what looks like vomit.

  "Is that from me?"

  Nala sits on the bed, bouncing a couple times, sending wave after wave of nausea through my tired and worn body. Not to mention, the blinding daylight that’s bouncing off every lacquered surface and hitting the back of my retinas.

  "Could you close the blinds, please?"

  "Uh-uh. We need to talk, and you need to stay awake."

  "At least give me some coffee."

  Nala leans toward the bedside table, grabs a Starbucks size coffee mug and hands it to me. "How are you feeling?"

  Blowing on the piping hot liquid, I follow the dancing streams of steam before turning my attention to my very unimpressed little sister. "Like I've been beat by a drunken midget."

  "What?" Her eyebrows crease. "Whatever. So tell me, who's Rourke?"

  I take a sip of coffee and wait for it to settle my stomach acid. "Rourke?"

  "Do you not remember anything from yesterday?" She crooks her leg up on the bed, facing me head-on.

  "Should I?"

  "Well, you called me a few days ago saying you were getting on a plane to come home. When I met you at the airport, two stewardesses had to help you off the plane and into a waiting wheelchair. The entire cab ride here you talked about fucking up with Rourke and that you loved him."

  She takes another sip of her coffee while she waits for me to answer.

  At first, the image of me being led to my seat on the airplane flashes minutely, and then the constant flow of alcohol in those tiny little bottles flashes in quick succession until I recall the entire flight home like a real-time movie.

  When I fuck up—and this was a massive fuck up on my part—I self-destruct. The evidence is now sitting in the garbage can by the bed.

  "Oh God."

  "Yeah. You've been out for a day and a half now. I'm not sure how much longer I can hold Mom back from busting down my front door."

  A new wave of nausea hits, along with a massive hot flash. I am no longer human. I place the mug on the floor just in time to start dry heaving into the garbage can.

  "Great to have you home, big sis. Wish I could stay and watch you die, but I got classes, and then I have to work tonight." She gets off the bed and walks to the door. "I left you a little present on the windowsill. Make sure to crack the window open before you spark up."

  Once the dry heaving subsides, I hang my head over the side of the bed to see the door close behind her. Wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, my eyes focus on the window that's above the dresser. Not so much the window itself, but the ashtray with something white resting on top.

  I love my sister.

  Pulling the sheets back, I roll onto my side to kick my legs out of the sheets and get to a sitting position. Once my head stops spinning, I shuffle one foot in front of the other and sit on top the dresser, crack the window open and light up the joint.

  The instant calm throughout my body is a welcome feel after the last few days I've had. I bring my knees up to my chest, tapping the balls of my feet on top the dresser while I take my time, savoring every mind-numbing hit.

  I’m so glad to be home.

  Down The Rabbit Hole is coming October 2018.

  Get your copy here!