A Drop of Pretty Poison: A Brother’s Best Friend Romance (Pretty Poison Trilogy Book 2)

Have you ever watched someone you love spiral out of control? Felt the desperation of wanting to save them but knowing there’s nothing you can do? It’s a special kind of hell to spend every day hoping and praying that they’ll pull through this, but not knowing for sure that they will.

Laiken going to have lunch with Monty’s mother is a move I never saw coming. I know she’s been having a rough time, but it feels reckless—and not to mention self-mutilating. The guilt is already destroying her. Does she really need to make it worse by spending the day there?

But the message this morning was clear.

She was going, whether I liked it or not.

Thankfully, there’s nothing like a little manual labor to work out your frustrations.

I grab a piece of drywall from the pile and stand it up, hauling it over to the wall it needs to go on. As I line it up and start to hammer the nail into it, I think about what Laiken is doing right now.

Is she okay?

Is she getting upset?

Is the ghost of Monty watching her in the bathroom like the sick pervert he was?

The sound of the sheetrock cracking echoes through the room and my eyes close as my head falls back. Motherfucker.

“Okay, that’s the third piece you’ve damaged today,” Cam tells me. “At this rate, all the walls are going to be made of spackle.”

I huff. “Well maybe if someone wasn’t hogging the nail gun…”

He chuckles, coming over and finishing this piece for me. “Yeah, we’re not doing this. That’s not the issue and you know it. What’s going on?”

“I don’t know,” I say as I run my hands over my face. “Laiken is just…a lot right now.”

“Yeah, I’ve noticed,” he replies sadly. “What’s she doing now?”noveldrama

A part of me considers not telling him at all. He’s going to be just as pissed off as I was. Even Mali agreed it’s a bad idea. But my anger has subsided now, and all that’s left is worry.

I take a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “She’s seeing Monty’s mom for lunch today.”

His jaw drops. “Has she lost her goddamn mind?”

“Yeah, I’m not answering that.”

He looks around, shaking his head while he tries to figure her out. But good luck. I’ve been trying to do that for the last couple weeks. It’s not going very well.

“I’m worried about her, H,” he tells me.

I sit on the stepstool. “Yeah. Me too.”

It’s quiet for a moment, both of us thinking about the same thing. I had hoped that she would go back to how she was before this in the same timeframe that Mali did. And in a couple ways, she has. She finally went back to work after taking four days off and I don’t have to force her to eat anymore. But in other ways, she seems dead inside.

It’s like there’s a piece of her that never left that island, and that scares the shit out of me.

“I don’t know, man,” Cam murmurs. “Maybe it’s time to get her some help. Professional help.”

My eyes narrow at him. “What?”

“There are a few places I found that we can bring her to for an evaluation.” He pulls out his phone and starts messing with it. “They specialize in grief counseling, and if they admit her, she would only have to stay for a few weeks before they transition her into outpatient therapy.”

I’m shaking my head before he’s even finished. “No. Absolutely not.”

His shoulders sag in defeat. “Hayes, she’s crumbling.”

“You think I don’t know that?” I snap. “Fucking Christ, I have to see it every day. But the girl she was before this is in there somewhere. I know it. And I’m not going to abandon her by shipping her off to some loony bin.”

“H,” he tries, but I have no interest in whatever else he has to say.

“No. Okay? I said no. She’s my wife, and I’ll be the one to take care of her. End of fucking story.”

Throwing his hands in the air, he looks frustrated, but he gives up—for now, at least.

I walk over to the table where I left my phone and check the time, but I see a text from Laiken waiting for me.

Hey. Leaving lunch. Just want you to know that I love you and I’m sorry about earlier. We’ll talk tonight.

My chest swells a bit. Moments like these are when I see the old her still managing to shine through. The message is from an hour ago, which means she’s probably at work by now. Still, I type out a response and send it for when she gets done.

I’m the one who’s sorry. I’m just worried about you, Lai. But you’re right. We’ll talk tonight. I love you. ❤️

I don’t want to get my hopes up, but this feels a lot like finding the light at the end of a long, dark tunnel.

FOR THE FIRST TIME in a couple weeks, I walk into the house with a smile on my face. I’ve been dying to get home. I thought about leaving early, but we had to get shit done if we want to meet certain deadlines and not fail any more inspections. I can’t wait until the bar is done and I can be the boss who leaves for lunch dates in the middle of the day.

Or sex dates. Those are good, too.

Laiken is sitting at the small kitchen table—the one we have only used once since I moved in. She’s not even doing anything, just staring off into space. I go up to her and press a kiss to her forehead. But something about the smile she forces onto her face feels off.

“How was work, babe?” I ask as I grab a beer from the fridge.

Her voice comes out lifeless. “I didn’t go.”

Fuck. So much for turning a corner. Now it feels like we’ve gone back three steps. Dread runs through me at full force. I know I shouldn’t have gotten my hopes up. Not with how unstable she’s been lately. But that text sounded so much like her, the real her, that I couldn’t help it.

“Baby,” I sigh, sitting across from her. “I know you’re hurting and I’m sorry you lost your friend, but you can’t throw the rest of your life away because of it.”

She scoffs. “That’s easy for you to say. You never liked Monty.”

“No, I didn’t,” I admit. “I couldn’t. He wanted to take away the one person in my life that I can’t live without.”

Her eyes meet mine with a fire inside them, but while normally I’d be glad that she’s feeling something, this seems to be directed at me. And the words that come out of her mouth make me feel like I’m the one who took a gunshot—but mine was straight to the chest.

“Is that why you shot him?”