Page 36 of Vendetta

“Come here, Leighton,” he says, staring at the ceiling.

“No.”

He repositions his body and lifts his head up, so he can see me. “Come here,” he repeats.

I ignore him.

“You telling me that you don’t want to come here and lie in my arms until I have to leave?” he says, his voice knowing. I do want that. I want that more than anything, but sometimes we don’t get what we want.

I should know. I've wanted him all my life, and he was someone else's.

“What changed since this morning?” he asks, sitting up.

“I had some time to think things through.” I make it sound harsh, angry. I sit down in his chair, staring across the room. “Where were you the other night?”

“What?”

“The other night, when you came home drunk. Who’s Amber?” I don’t know why I ask it. It will only hurt me more once he admits he left me to go and screw someone else’s brains out, but maybe it’s what I need to hear.

His eyes widen. “Fuck.”

“Just tell me.”

“Leighton,” he says softly, reverently, so much emotion in that one word. He rubs his face wearily, looking frustrated and tired. He mutters something under his breath and then stands up and walks toward me, a purpose to his stride.

He lowers to a crouch in front of me, as close as he can get without actually touching me.

“Nothing happened,” he says, his eyes roaming my face. He takes my hand in his. “Nothinghappened.”

I look away. I don’t believe him.

He lowers his head and I close my eyes, shuddering when his lips make contact with my skin. His mouth lingers on my cheek, and I can feel his reluctance when he moves away.

“Do you want me to stay?” he asks, his eyes guarded. He already knows what I'll say. I almost want to prove him wrong.

I shake my head. He nods once, and leaves the room without looking back.

I stare at the door for a few minutes after he leaves, wanting him to come back, but needing him not to.

I bury myself into the chair,his chair, and let the tears put me to sleep.

10

DEVON

I drop off her breakfast, and try to talk to her, but she ignores me. Hours later, when I bring her lunch, it’s the same thing again. She doesn't say anything to me at all, doesn't even spare me a glance. But at least she eats the food.

How much of a jerk was I, leaving her like that to go and see another woman? Even if I had done it, if I lost myself in Amber, it would never compare.

She's drawing, a lot. The first sketchpad is full, and when I first stole a glance at what she's been drawing, it caught me off guard. Why I deserve to be the focus of her drawings is beyond me. She shouldn’t waste her talent on me.

I'm the monster that brought her here. I'm the monster that's going to take everything away from her, until she's gone as well.

What the fuck was she doing in that parking lot, following George? She's not stupid; she should have known better.

My pocket beeps with a text message, snapping me out of my thoughts. I shift in the chair, pulling out my phone and glancing at it quickly to read Hayley’s message that she’s coming overtonight. My uncle clears his throat at the interruption, looking at me disapprovingly.

What is this, a fucking school? I'm so sick of this crap, the way he just silently disapproves of everything I do without actually telling me how much of a failure I am in his eyes.

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