Page 166 of Please Hate Me

Mason smiled, but Seb rolled his eyes.

Nope. If I watch this any longer, I’m going to get mad at him.I needed a distraction, an excuse to get away from the table without voicing that I was irked. Dishes were done, and the table was clear…. There was a suitcase by the door.

Laundry.

I scooted out of my chair, drawing looks from everyone at the table. I quickly blamed the interruption on my need to take care of chores, and no one batted an eye... until I grabbed the suitcase.

“Sophia, that’s mine.”

I looked back to see Sebastian staring at me with no hint of a smile on his lips. His throat bobbed as he swallowed, and I wondered if he was nervous. Served him right if he was.

“That’s fine, you’re family. I’ll just do it!”

I held the luggage to my chest as I ran through the kitchen and into the laundry room. At first, I just wanted an excuse to get away from Sebastian’s negative energy, but now I needed to know what he’d brought into my house that he didn’t want me to see.

Rapid footsteps followed behind me as I dropped the suitcase onto the top of the dryer and unzipped it. By the time Sebastian opened the door, I had found the thing he was so desperately trying to hide.

“Sophia, I—” His words cut off when I held up a shirt caked in so much blood it should have warranted an emergency room visit…ifit had been his.

“Shut the door. Now.” I ordered.

His eyes were wide as he complied with my request. As soon as the door was closed, he spun around to begin pleading his case.

“I can explain, I—”

“You’re messy,” I interrupted.

He blinked twice. “I’m... what?”

“Messy,” I repeated as I opened the washing machine. “That’s what my mom says, at least.”

Actually, she’d told me Sebastian was a cold-blooded killer who had more in common with a snake than a human. Apparently, he liked to stalk his targets for weeks on end before striking, and when he finally made his move, they always had to call someone to clean up after him.

Just like a man, to make a mess of an activity that should be pristine.

“...Your mom?”

I nodded, wondering which mom he was picturing, waiting for him to ask: Heather or Victoria?

Surely, he could figure out it wasn’t Heather. After all, she spent more time raising Seb than his mother did. Either way, I’d never tell him which. It felt dangerous for someone like Seb to know where he got his orders from, even if I knew he’d never get a chance to hurt either of my moms.

Not while I was around.

I tossed his shirt into the washing machine, along with a sizable dash of peroxide. Bleach and detergent worked okay, but peroxide was the only cleaner that could completely get rid of blood.

“I assumed she meant at work, but you’re not very neat at home either.” Honestly, he only cleaned when I asked him to, and even then, he was sloppy about it.

“At work?” Sebastian laughed, “Sophia, I work alone. I’m—”

“You’re a hitman for S.H.A.D.E.”

Strategic Homicide and Anomaly Deterrence Enforcement.

I couldn’t remember the actual title ofhisjob, but hitman was close enough. He was hired to track, identify, andeliminateserial killers.

I turned the knob on my washer, set it to a quick wash, and turned it on. Once the blood was gone, I could throw in a full load.

Finally, I looked back to see Sebastian’s brow fused in a look of confusion.

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