Page 88 of Brutal Sin

“Don’t get angry.” She held her hands up in surrender. “I know it’s the last thing you want to hear. And that’s why I didn’t tell you the night in the parking lot. I walked away, just like you wanted me to. But I can’t be with you tonight and pretend I feel differently. I can’t lie by omission.”

He wanted to believe everything he heard. If it wasn’t for the alcohol, the nervous breakdown, and the fucked-up news about his mother, he probably could’ve convinced himself this wasn’t a hallucination. Problem was, it seemed too coincidental to have the one thing he wanted laid out before him within accessible reach. It was too good to betrue.

“Say something,” she pleaded.

“Give me a second.” His head spun, liquor and disorientation having their wicked way withhim.

He wanted to sober up. He needed to soberup.

He side-stepped to the sink, snatched an empty glass from the rack, and filled it with water. Gulp after gulp, he downed one glass, then two, his impatience making the numbing intoxication a heavy liability.

“Don’t worry about it.” Her voice drifted. “I’ll see myselfout.”

“No.” God, no. He just needed a minute.

He gripped the counter, lowered his head and breatheddeep.

“It’s okay. This response is better than the rage I anticipated. I thought you’d yell atme.”

Because that was what he’d done in the past. It was all he knew how todo.

Focus.

He mentally repeated a suitable response, over and over, to make sure it seemed worthy. “I feel the sameway.”

She was quiet, deathly silent.

He glanced from the corner of his eye to find confusion staring back at him. He didn’t know if he’d spoken aloud or if the mantra in his head had grown in strength.

She didn’t acknowledge him. She probably didn’t know what he was talking about because all the things she’d said were a figment of his imagination.

Fuck.

“Ella?” He straightened and told his insecurities to fuck off. “I feel the sameway.”

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