Total pages in book: 185
Estimated words: 191421 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 957(@200wpm)___ 766(@250wpm)___ 638(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 191421 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 957(@200wpm)___ 766(@250wpm)___ 638(@300wpm)
“What?”
“The one when you said he got you drunk and set girls on you. He,” I take in a trembling breath, “didn’t do that, did he? He didn’t…”
Lucas’s frown is thick, his features crumpled up. “What difference does it make now? That was years ago. That was —”
“Answer me,” I snap. “Did he or did he not do that?”
Another sharp sigh from him. “No, he didn’t. In his usual fashion, he was playing the babysitter that night, okay? I got drunk and I was very close to kissing this girl. And he stopped me. He reminded me that I had a girlfriend I needed to think about. Who wouldn’t kiss me, by the way. But that’s in the past, all right? And we’ve already talked about this. I don’t care about all that. And you shouldn’t either because I didn’t. I didn’t kiss anyone, and so can you come back to me? Can you finally see that I’m the right guy for you?”
“It was me,” I say then.
“What?”
“I kissed Reign that night. I was the one who started it. And I did it because I’d wanted to kiss him for a very long time. Because I loved him. Since the beginning. And I love him now.”
He freezes.
Goes still. At my confession.
That I only gave to hurt him.
Yes, I can admit that. I can fucking admit that I did it to hurt him.
Because he hurt him.
Didn’t he?
He hurt my Reign. He’s been hurting my Reign for years now.
He knew everything.
Everything.
He knew that his best friend — his brother — wanted me. He knew that I wanted his best friend too. Not to mention, he lied about Reign. On so many occasions. Because that Halloween thing wasn’t the only time he’d lied. It wasn’t the only time Lucas had told me something that Reign had done and my hatred for Reign increased.
And he did all that because he knew I liked Reign too, didn’t he?
He saw how crazy we were for each other, right from the start, right from the beginning.
But he still came after me.
And while I don’t care about myself in this scenario, I do care about him.
My Bandit.
So yeah, I did it to hurt him.
“You fucking bitch,” he breathes out, his eyes all harsh and angry.
And then I don’t care. I don’t care if my blanket slips or I lose all my dignity, I go for him.
I go for his face. His hair, his chest. His fucking groin.
I go crazy on him. I go nuclear.
And I don’t stop until I hear sirens.
Cops.
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
The Bandit
“You okay?”
“Yeah,” I say to my brother, looking out his car window as he drives and I watch the world go by.
He sighs, shifts on his seat. “They’re not going to press charges.”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“Because, well, we’re not going to press charges.”
“There’s nothing to press charges for.”
“He did break your nose.”
I shrug, choosing to remain silent.
There’s nothing to say except I wish he had broken more than my nose.
For a little while there, when Mr. Adler was kicking me in the ribs, I had high hopes that he’d break at least one of them. But no such luck.
I came out mostly unscathed.
A few bruises, one broken nose and a night in a holding cell.
That too only because I insisted.
I said I’d go back to the Adlers’ and finish what he had started, and so they kept me inside until I was sufficiently calmed down. And well, because I told my brother to not throw his weight around and lawyer up.
If my dad was alive, I’d stay there forever; he’d make it so.
As it is, he’s gone and my brother has this delusion that I’m a good guy and don’t deserve to spend my life in jail. Not to mention, he has enough money to make these things happen and here we are.
Me riding back in his Bentley after spending a night in jail.
“You could’ve fought back.”
“No.”
“Don’t you go to that boxing gym? So it’s not as if you don’t know how.”
“Didn’t want to.”
He makes a non-committal sound. Then, “Well, maybe this will help with your dwindling street cred. Given that your old bruises were fading away and now you have new ones.”
“Yeah, meetings should be interesting again.”
I hear a chuckle. “So you love her.”
I watch a tree with pink flowers go by. “Yes.”
No use denying it.
No use calling it something it isn’t.
It’s love.
Although I’ve only recently been informed of this.
That the thing I feel for her is called love.
This irrational jealousy. This insane obsession. This crazy need to get close to her, to somehow get inside her body and live there. To somehow get her inside mine so she could live wrapped around my heart.
If I had my way, I’d call it sickness.
But I guess love works too.
Or maybe on someone like me love does look like sickness, I don’t know.