Biker's Claim The Broken Angel is Mine (Cora and Jake) novel Chapter 13

Cora POV

Scones took the phone, looked at the pictures again, humming, then turned it around and back as she

looked at them.

“That girl is flexible,” Scones suddenly said, and turned the phone to show me the picture she was talking

about.

“Yeah, she has always been that way, a cheerleader and did all sorts of acrobatics in high school. Me not so much. It never interested me. I prefer to be on the field, roughing out, rather than on the sidelines, being pretty. She was the prom queen and the best at this and that when it came to looks and fashion; she raised money; academically, she was mid–range, using me and my hotes to scrape through. It never bothered me that she went out and partied, had a good time, and then borrowed my notes to study on the last day or to do assignments. I believed we all had our talents and never judged her for her promiscuous ways. Should have seen the writing on the wall; I trust them too much. Making it easy to fool me.” I sniffled; I had tears running down my cheeks. As I talked about this, Scones called them healing tears, and said to let them all out so I could move on and get out of the rut that would set in if I let it. I knew she was right; what I had seen had played on my mind a lot, as I kept reviewing how it happened, and when it might

have started.

“It’s not wrong to trust those you believe are your friends. You had what you thought would be a lifelong friendship, I get it. You did nothing wrong. This was not your fault. You can’t blame your job or the long working hours for giving them opportunities to betray you. You are not responsible for how they behave; they have a mind of their own, and if doing that behind your back, and laughing about it in a sort of code, when around you, is not your issue, it’s theirs. They were content to hide what they wanted. I am sure if they said something, and said they wanted to be a thriple or whatever it’s called, you would have handled it. Understood or tried to. They didn’t just enjoy what they were doing in bed; they got a thrill from keeping it a secret. Knowing the risk of losing their friend, they did it anyway, and the longer they got away with it, the more they believed they would never find out and that no harm was being done. Don’t let their actions eat away at you and take the goodness out of you. Nothing worse than a bitter woman(“Don’t let that happen.” Scones was like my grandma’s. I miss her.

“Thanks.” I sniffed again, Scones handing over the tissue box, causing me to give a weak chuckle.

“Now, are you ready for this? Voice or text first?”

“Voice, let’s get them cleared so that I can get real messages. They had filled that box up and blocked their numbers. I don’t want them filling it up again.” I went to take my phone back, but she batted my hand

away.

“Who do you want to start with?”

“Step–brother, then ex–boyfriend, and so–called friend at the very end.”

5 Chapter 13

The voice chats were the same, starting with the so–called concerned voices: ‘Where are you?‘ You’re

late, or ‘aren’t you coming to dinner?‘, then became more concerned, sounding real, when no answer happened, and became angry for not replying. All three sort of said the same thing, which doesn’t surprise

1. me.

The text messages, Scones read them out. My ex–boyfriend, by the second–to last test message, was a bit of a surprise. He said he was worried that something had happened to me, so he broke into my apartment to find a guy asleep in my bed, and was angry that I was cheating on him.

Me!

Cheating on him, that’s a laugh, what a two–faced, lying sack of potatoes he is.

The last text was full of apologies because he jumped to the wrong conclusion. He was worried about where I was and whether I was okay, and he asked me to please get in touch with him.

Not yet, I won’t, not till I am ready to talk about what I have seen with them.

My step–brother was sent three text messages, all degrading as usual, and telling me to stop sulking and being a spoiled brat. He’s the spoiled one, not me, never has been. Once mum was gone and dad brought that viper home, all the niceties died, and that witch became a dragon overnight when she found out dad wasn’t as rich as she thought he was. Yeah, he’s the same. When he was being nice, it was because he wanted something from me; I learned that one early.

My ex–bestie was the worst; she was all sweetness and worry. All false concerns, now I can see them clearly. Was I always the tool she used? I tried to think of a time when she had my back, and except for being there when my mum died, crying with me, she was never there to have my back. I was always for her. At school, at parties, I was always the supporter. I had never seen it before. No wonder she’s panicking; she’s losing someone who was always there for her, not the other way round.

I was so blind.

Was I that hungry for acceptance?

To call someone my friend?

Was that what my boyfriend was?

Not a boyfriend, but someone to use and discard so easily?

“Seeing things differently, aren’t you?” Scones asked as she patiently watched my face change from tears to anger to hurt, denial, and then back to anger, and finally to realisation.

“Yeah, I am. I knew what my step–brother was like, but never put the other two in the same bracket. It looks like I have been the chump all the time. How can I move forward? To trust again? To learn when someone is being true and faithful, like how do you know? I was so blind. I couldn’t see it for what it was, or didn’t want to see it that way.” I was back to tears running down my face, and all trust was lost all over again. “One step at a time, Cora, one step at a time. Your first step was to see the truth in the matter; your next

vvaples La

step will be how you handle it. Do you want to confront them, or stay hidden? No rush, but if you want my

advice, the sooner you rip that bandage off, the better. Leaving it too long will hinder your healing.” Scones

held me to her and let me cry on her shoulder. I was full of snot, hurt, and exhausted from all this

emotional baggage being opened.

We sat for a while, looking over the back of the compound. I could see men walking about, doing a perimeter walk; it was peaceful here at the moment. The sun was getting lower on the horizon, and the night party would soon start. We had to get back downstairs and start warming the food and preparing other finger foods.

But Scones didn’t rush me, letting me take the time I needed to get myself back together again.

“Your room is two doors down. Go wash your face and clean up. Meet me in the kitchen.” Scones helped me up, and handed me the crutches. Walked me to my door, and then hurried down the hallway and down

the stairs.

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify