Page 30 of Vendetta

“You didn’t tell them I left the door open. Why?” he demands, his voice hardening.

“Why, Leighton?” he repeats when I don’t reply.

“Why do you think?” I spit back at him, hating him for asking this question.

He puts his hand on my sore shoulder lightly, careful not to hurt me. “Tell me. I want—I need to know why you'd protect me, after everything?”

“Because of this,” I snap, leaning forward and capturing his lips with my own. He responds instantly, taking my mouth in a punishing kiss. He starts to suck on my bottom lip, and I run my hand up his shirt, feeling each taut muscle of his six-pack. He moans at the contact, but gently pushes me away.

“Fuck,” he whispers, sounding defeated.

“I know what’s going to happen,” I say sadly, huffing out a breath. “I know it doesn’t change anything, but right now I don’t care. Kiss me, Devon.”

Slowly, he brings his lips to mine, and gently kisses me. He pulls back a little before kissing me deeper, his tongue tasting mine. I make a sound in my throat when he gently sucks on my bottom lip, carefully avoiding the cut on it.

The door suddenly opens, and we pull away from each other, but not quick enough.

“What the fuck, Devon?” Hayley says, her eyes wide in disbelief. She looks shocked, but I don’t miss the flash of anger that crosses her face when she looks me straight in the eyes.

“Hales,” he says, sitting up in bed. She turns and leaves, slamming the door behind her. Devon jumps out of bed, but to my surprise he kisses me quickly on the forehead before following her out. The sound of the door locking makes me squeeze my eyes shut.

DEVON

I stuff the keys in my pocket, running after Hayley. I don't reach her until she's outside, and I see her retreating figure heading toward her car.

“Hales, wait up,” I yell after her. She stops, her shoulders squared. I jog to where she's standing and turn her around to face me. The expression on her face surprises me. I fully expected her to be... I don't know. Sad, devastated, brokenhearted.

Why did I even expect that? She's the one that broke up with me.

No, she's livid, now, fuming.

“What the fuck were you thinking in there, Devon? I could have been anyone. Anyone!”

I raise my hands up in a calming gesture.

“Don't treat me like I'm some raging lunatic. Are you fucking crazy? You didn't even lock the fucking door. You'reluckyit was just me. You could have just lost everything over some slut.”

“Hey, now,” I say, a serious tone to my voice.

“Then what was that? If I walked in there a few minutes later would I have seen something far more compromising? You denying what I just saw?”

I could. I could tell her it's not what it looked like and she'd take my word for it, but I don't want to lie to her. I never did. And it's exactly what it looked like.

“Thought so,” she says smugly, her hands on her hips. She sighs. “You're never so careless.”

“I know,” I tell her, glad that she seems to understand. “I can't seem to do anything right these days.”

Her eyes find mine. “You can talk to me. I wish you never stopped.”

I swallow, hard. I stopped talking to her, my best friend, because there are things she's better off not knowing. I couldn't tell her how torn I felt about myself, about who I am, who I want to be. The reasons that make me question everything about me. She just wouldn't understand.

And, if I'm honest, I don't want to hurt her. I hate to admit it, but she was never it. She knows it, too, it's why she broke up with me—not that she loved me either, but she doesn't need me throwing it in her face.

So I ignore her pleading eyes and say, “What are you doing here?” instead.

Her shoulders slump, defeated. Another sigh. “I came to check on you. Dad said I should,” she says, and then shakes her head. “But you seem to be doing just fine.”

“Hales,” I start, but she interrupts me, lifting her palm in front of my face.

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