Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 117820 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 589(@200wpm)___ 471(@250wpm)___ 393(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 117820 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 589(@200wpm)___ 471(@250wpm)___ 393(@300wpm)
“You should have come back the minute you were free.”
“I was fucked up. I wasn’t sane.”
“Free of your brain then! I don’t know but you should have reached out when you were well.”
“I’M STILL NOT FUCKING WELL, KANE!” I shove him again. It’s all too familiar. “I’ll never be well. I’m damaged. I’m poisonous. I’m unlovable. I’m vicious.”
“Yeah, well so am I and you still loved me anyway.”
“I killed a man in cold blood and I don’t regret it.”
“So did I,” he whispers.
“That’s not the same.”
“Isn’t it? Let you steal his money. Left him there. Didn’t call for help. Didn’t even fuckin’ care. You still sat on my dick years later and I never wanted to change a thing about that moment.”
I bite my lip. “I don’t know what the point in any of this is.”
“The point is, whether we wanted it or not we were in this life together. You left me, not on purpose at first but then on purpose and fuck you for that. Got a kid out there I could have helped you find.”
“She’s in the wind. There’s no possible way.”
“So you say but you didn’t give me the option to find that out for myself.”
“You want me to say I’m sorry?”
“Yeah,” he responds and for a moment I see how haunted his eyes are. He’s not doing a good job of hiding it. “I do. I want you to say it, I want you to feel it and I want to fucking see it.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about the baby that was stolen from me.”
“From us,” he corrects. “Unless it’s not mine.”
I almost laugh at that weak attempt to goad me. He doesn’t stop me as I sit back on the couch. “When are you leavin’, Kane?”
“Right now, just came back to say goodbye and wish you luck in getting your shit together.” He tugs on the lapel of his leather jacket and digs into his pocket for a mint. “You’re an incredible tattoo artist, Immy. You’re a shit fuckin’ person.”
“Ouch,” I respond, my tone deadpan. “Thanks for the burn. Let me rub myself down with some aloe.”
Angry, he shoves me backwards onto the couch, forcing me to uncurl, and grips my face, forcing me to look at him.
“You said you hated me.” He squeezes harder. It doesn’t hurt but it isn’t pleasant. “You ain’t got nothin’ to hate me for.”
“Cept maybe your shit grammar.”
His eyes narrow. “Table’s are turning Imogen Hardy. Because now for the first time since we met. I hate you. For real. I fucking hate you. Wish I’d never met you. Because you’re in all my bad memories too. Now you’re in the worst.” He bites on my lower lip, like he wants to make me bleed but can’t quite bring himself to do it. I hold his fiery gaze but don’t flinch, despite the pain, and after a moment my lip pings free and he stands and rights himself. “Unless you find my kid, don’t contact me. We’re back to how we were before we ever fucked except this time I mean it and this time I don’t want to stick my dick in you.”
“You’re a liar and a shit one. You’re a worse liar than me.” I follow him, round him, and press my hand hard against his chest.
“Move out of my way.”
“You don’t hate me. You wish you did. That look in your eyes isn’t hate, it’s pity. You hate that you pity me. I get it. I’ve got nothin’. I’m nothing like the girl I used to be. The girl you loved. The girl you thought you’d find here today.” I press even harder and focus on the feel of his heart beneath my palm, it makes me think of the time I held his heart in my hand when the world was an easier place. Even though the world was a hard place, it was still so much easier than this. “So no, you don’t hate me. You’re running because you know I’m not gonna make it through this and it fucking hurt you too much the first time.” I grab his dick through his jeans and his nostrils flare. “And don’t lie and say you don’t want to stick your dick in me. You’ve been hard since I walked into that fucking church back in Faceless. It’s why you got here so fast after Marshall said I’m still pining after you.” My fingers wrap around his girth, he’s even bigger than before. Evidence that a man’s dick doesn’t stop growing at seventeen. “There isn’t anything left for you here but this. You want who I was, you ain’t getting her. She doesn’t exist. But you want a taste? I fuck harder now than I ever did back then. All you’ve gotta do is ask.”