Page 25 of Endgame

“Are you asking me if I hate you, or are you just adding to the already laden down list of reasons why I should?”

His smile widened. The deep dimples in his cheeks that appeared when he smiled were beautiful. I was instantly angry with him because of it. Why did he have to be so nice to look at? Ugh.

“You’re a strange one, Six,” he finally said. “I’ll give you that.”

“I’m astrangeone?” I shot back, but Rourke didn’t answer me. He was already half way out of the room.

Rourke

I DEDICATED THE whole weekend to football. Working out with Daryl, going through drills and plays with the guys; basically running myself into the ground.

When I finally walked my stinking ass into the house late Sunday evening, I was met with the sound of my sister crying in her bedroom.

“Amelia?” Immediately my hackles rose, and I was on the war path. Storming down the hallway to her bedroom, I shoved the door inwards and stalked inside, ready to kill the motherfucker that had made her cry. “Mills? You okay?”

When I walked into her bedroom and my eyes landed on her empty bed, confusion swept through me. I could have sworn I heard crying. Stilling my body, I listened carefully, straining to hear the sound again.

And I did.

I fucking heard it again.

Except it wasn’t coming from Amelia’s room like I had thought.

Confused and feeling edgy, I trailed back down the hallway to the main foyer.

More crying filled my ears.

Louder this time.

Goddammit.

Swinging around, I barreled towards the living room door and pushed it open. Immediately, my gaze locked on Six who was sprawled out on the couch and crying like a freaking baby.

“What’s wrong?” I demanded, feeling oddly worried.

She looked away from the television screen she’d been glued to. Big grey eyes full of tears met mine. “Oh m-my g-god,” she cried, wailing uncontrollably. Tears were pouring down her cheeks as she heaved uncontrollably.

“What?” I looked around frantically. “What the fuck happened?”

“They killed him,” she screamed, pointing back to the TV. “They fuckingkilledhim, Rourke!”

I tore my attention from her face and looked at the television screen. Immediately I recognized the program Six was watching as an episode from that fantasy TV show everyone seemed to love so much – myself included. Instantly, the penny dropped.

“Are you fucking serious?” I demanded, shaken up. “You’re crying over a goddamn TV show?”

“You don’t understand,” Six wailed, still crying. “I’ve invested all this time into…and they…they just…omigod, Ican’t! I can’t cope with this.”

“I thought you were hurt in here!” I growled. “Goddammit.”

“Turn it off,” she squeezed out, tone pleading. “Please, Rourke. My heart can’t take it.”

I gaped at her. “Are you serious?”

She nodded frantically, still crying.

Shaking my head, I muttered a curse and walked over to the TV set before switching it off. “Happy now?”

“I don’t think I’ll ever be happy again,” she whispered, wiping her nose with the sleeve of her sweater. “If this is what mourning someone’s death feels like, I don’t want to form another relationship for the rest of my life.”

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