Page 18 of Hate Game

“Yeah. Get in the way of my fun times, and there will be hell to pay.” I reach for my glass. She sidesteps me and pours my drink down the sink.

“Do your best, Malice.”

“Oh, I will.”

“Ooh, I’m shaking in my shoes.”

My gaze shoots to her feet. Her shoes are ratty, but her small feet are cute as fuck. And her feet are moving toward the front door.

“Goodbye, Mr. and Mrs. Sterling. I’ll send my first report next Sunday.”

“Thank you for offering your services, Rue.”

“Of course. I would do anything to help Malice. My sisteradoreshim.”

She bats her long lashes, and I nearly vomit in my mouth. I know I’m the last guy on Riley’s mind. I walk my parents out.

“What will happen to the house?” I ask Dad.

“It stays the way it is until the authorities are done with their investigation.”

“Once that’s done?”

“Your mom and I will deal with it when we get home.”

“When is that?”

“The end of the year, Son. There’s a change of plans. Mom has business in Italy.”

Mom owns and runs an online home furnishing business and boutique. She pulls me in for a hug. “I love you. We’ll FaceTime tomorrow.”

“Sure. I love you too.”

I let go, and she slips her hand into my dad’s. They make their way back to the charred house using the flashlight app on his phone.

A surge of guilt crashes over me. I knew better than to leave people unsupervised in my parents’ house, and for what? I kid myself into believing Cassie would help me forget the one girl I cannot get out of my head.

And now here she is, living under the same roof. But I’ll be damn if I go down that dead-end path. Rue deserves stability, and I am far from stable.

7

RUE

Malice’s parents walk away, leaving me alone with a guy I never want to be alone with again, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

I am tired of crashing at one place or another, week after week, of sneaking in and out of places that aren’t mine. I’m tired of mooching off my friends and their generosity. Or do they feel sorry for me?

My mother is MIA, and I don’t know where my father is. At least I know where Riley is. She’s in Dumas, finishing her last year of college and keeping an eye on our grandfather, my mother’s dad.

Riley texted, “He’s sick.” I want to see him, but does he want to see me? Riley is his favorite, and I’m a regret and a disappointment.

“Your mom said only the upstairs bathroom has a shower. Do you mind if I go first?”

“There’s no need getting my permission. You do what you want anyway.”

He couldn’t care less, as though his parents’ house didn’t catch on fire.

“Winslow thinks the fire was intentional.”

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