Our Fault Book 3 Novels & Stories

By 2:30, the girls are restless and climbing in every truck on the floor. Finally, the sales guy places the keys in my hand. The speedometer only had ten miles on the dash. Which is perfect. We drive home all excited. Adamo jogs past, shouting compliments about the new truck. He ask will i be running on Monday, and i say yeah because I want to have a real conversation with him. Inside, Isla stands there again. “So… you got your truck?” She finally speaks. I don’t look at her. She raises her voice. “Shane, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for all of it. For hurting you. For breaking our family.”

“Yeah. And you almost got us all caught.” “It wasn’t my fault!” “Stop denying, Yuri. It was clearly your fault! I told you to leave your stupid book to the infirmary but you didn’t.” “It dropped accidentally!” “Accident or not, it could have mostly send the four of us in jail.” “Stop it already! Just be thankful that the police didn’t see us.”

“The house, well, the fire was so large that something inside exploded. Debris flew and—” “And you got hit by something.” This was your fault, Fiona. “I’m so sorry,” I whisper, trying to push back the guilt. It eats at me like a flesh-eating parasite, spreading through my entire body until I almost become numb. Except I don’t. I feel every bit of the heaviness that weighs on me. I’ve never wanted anyone, especially someone I care about, to get hurt for me. “It wasn’t your fault, Fiona.” “But it was. You got hurt because I—”

"Merri is the one who deserved to die not my brother. This is your fault Madam, you killed my brother!" Faith's mother was quick to strike her daughter's cheek. Disgusted, of all things she had never taught her daughter to kill, maybe steal here and there but not kill. Mrs Cunningham was appalled, no words came out. Hearing a muffled cry, Merrigold ran out, heading straight for her brother's comfort. Austin ran after her, she was shaking with tears. "It's all my fault, someone died because of me??!" She cried, Austin held her against his shoulder. Crying, she felt responsible. She did not know what she had ever done to Faith but the unsettling feeling was an innocent boy had died and Merrigo

"Come on, Rain. Open the door." Nothing. I hesitated, then let out a sigh, laying my hand against the wood once more. "I'm sorry." The silence between us drew out. "I know you're blaming yourself," I went on. "I know exactly what's running through your head right now. That if you had done something different, Faith would be safe. That it's your fault Nathan took her. That it's your fault anyone is in danger." Another pause. Then, barely above a whisper, "It is my fault."

It’s all about faith. °°° The story ends here. Thanks for reading. Follow me on my I*, and get to know about my next book which is about their kids. Also, read my another book Beta Nocholas. It's a werewolf romance. Thanks again :)

***the previous chapter is the last chapter in which Amory’s POV will appear. We have now arrived at the point of the original book ‘Damaged’ on the chapter titled ‘Three Years Later’ if you wish to read both books as they occur in-sync with each other*** Amory is behind the bar dressed in a black halter top with black booty shorts and silver stilettos, which is typical for her, and I see her kick into high gear when Sy starts waving to get someone’s attention. We all know that this is do-or-die time! But a couple of drunk dumb fucks smashed to the ground behind me, breaking glasses and spilling liquor everywhere.

Terzo was in pain, not physically, and it tugged at my heartstrings. “You can’t take all the blame, Terzo. It was my fault, too. I pushed you away because I got mad, but I have the right to get mad. Don’t I? If there’s one person to be blamed, it’s my father. He didn’t believe me when I said, I didn’t have that damn book. And you almost died because of that.” Shock flickered across his face. His hard features softened, replaced with warmth and tenderness. But that was it. He didn’t say anything.

Keys, phone, weight at his heart where a badge used to sit and where a smaller, stoppered bottle now did. At the door, Gabe paused. The light through the high window had gone a step dimmer, clouds gathering like bad news over the cove. The church hummed the way buildings hum when they’re old enough to know better. “Frank,” he said without turning. “If this is my fault—” “It is not,” Frank said, severe. “It is old, and it is hungry, and you were in the wrong place with the wrong kind of courage. Guilt is an easy door. Don’t hold it open.”

Hank tries a symbol, but nothing happens. “Be careful,” Damon warns. “There could be a limit to how many mistakes we can make.” “Or some kind of punishment,” Elena says. That possibility is enough to push me close to the edge of panic. Taking a deep breath, I step back, trying to get a wider view of the surface. And then I see it. Like a sudden flash of knowledge, it hits me. "It's threes," I say, pointing. "Three symbols light up at a time."