Page 31 of Endgame

He moved his head.

“I’m sorry, Rourke,” I whispered, knowing there was nothing else I could say.

“She deserved better,” he grunted, eyes locked on the ceiling. “It was no way to go.”

“No. It wasn’t.”

“I’m still mad.” He let out a harsh laugh. “You’d think that after fifteen years the anger would have simmered down, but nope.” He exhaled heavily. “I’m fucking burning with it most days.”

“It’s understandable.”

“Is it?” He turned to face me then, his blue eyes burning holes into mine. “Maybe I’m broken inside.”

“I haven’t lost a parent like you have,” I replied, eyes locked on his. I only had one. “So, I won’t tell you I know how you feel. But I understand the feeling of being powerless. I can imagine what that does to you.”

“Why are being like this?” he asked after a pause.

“Like what?”

“Understanding,” he muttered. “Kind?”

I shrugged. “Maybe I’m a little broken, too.”

“Maybe,” he whispered, blue eyes piercing me. “Are you?”

“Am I what – broken?”

He nodded.

Facing the ceiling again, I exhaled a heavy sigh. “Probably.”

Rourke was quiet for the longest moment before asking, “What broke you, Six?”

You…“A long list of things,” I replied instead.

“Care to share?”

“And give you more ammunition to use against me?” I laughed harshly. “No thanks.”

“I deserve that,” Rourke replied with a sigh.

He did.

Another minute passed before he said, “My father thinks I need therapy.”

“What do you think?”

He looked back to the ceiling and exhaled heavily. “I think…” He sprang up without finishing his sentence and climbed off my bed. He looked down at me then and that cruel smirk was back. “I think he needs to stop bringing home new wives and their fucking strays.”

Ouch.

Turning back to face the ceiling, I closed my eyes and swallowed deeply.

The sound of my bedroom door clicking shut did little to ease my racing heart. I wouldn’t sleep a wink tonight.

Rourke

SHE WAS FUCKING WITH my head real bad. Goddamn, I couldn’t concentrate worth a shit on anything but Six.

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