Page 34 of Vendetta

I kept waiting for that nausea to kick in. I kept waiting to feel different. I just killed a man, for fuck's sake. But none of it came to me. It disappointed me. For sure, it meant I was a bad man. It thrilled me because, yeah, I'm an Andre. I have the proof lying in front of me, its head blown apart.

“I've made a bit of a mess,” Stevie said into his phone.

I shake off the memory of that day long ago as I walk the aisles of an art supply store in Cambridge. I never feel bad after I kill someone. Usually, I just get it over and done with, and then I move on. There are no feelings associated with it.

So I ignore the overwhelming feeling of satisfaction as I pick up random drawing supplies: pencils, colored and graphite, sketching pads, charcoals.

The girl at the checkout gives me a flirtatious smile. “Oh, you're an artist?” she asks, batting her eyelashes.

“No, my girlfriend,” I answer automatically, returning her smile politely.

“Lucky girl.”

“Yeah.” A stand with erasers and sharpeners catches my attention, reminding me I didn't get her any. I grab some and add them to my pile. I look around to see if maybe I could have gotten something else as well, but decide it's enough.

It's more than I should be getting. I bet Hayley will love this.

I stop on the way home at a donut place. I frown, trying to remember if I know what her favorite kind is. In the end, I just get two boxes with every choice available.

I open the door, and Hayley looks up at me, smiling until she sees the bag in my hand. Then she purses her lips, shaking her head. Leighton is on the bed, her gaze fixed on the television,ignoring me. I drop the bag on the floor and place the boxes with donuts on the bed, then walk over to Hayley. She stands up and gives me a kiss on the cheek as I give her a half hug.

I catch Leighton rolling her eyes.

“Leighton,” I say. She ignores me.

“That took longer than you said,” Hayley says, jabbing my chest with her finger. “I have to go, but I'll be back tomorrow to talk.” She glances at Leighton, and then looks back at me. “Don't think you're off the hook.”

“I'll be here.”

“I'll see you tomorrow, Leighton.” Leighton harrumphs, but doesn't say anything. Hayley shrugs, giving me another smile, then turns and leaves the room.

I lock the door from the inside, then pick up the bag with the art supplies and cross the room. The pencils clatter against each other as I spill the contents of the bag, breaking the thick silence in the room. Leighton's eyes stray to the heap on the bed, the hard lines on her forehead softening for a moment, then she looks at me, and I almost do a double take at her shuttered expression. Her eyes are guarded, not giving away any hints of what she’s thinking.

I start to go to her, but then decide against it, and sit in my chair instead.

“Can I trust you with those?” I ask her, pointing at the pencils.

“What could I possibly do? Stab you to death with a pencil?”

At this, I get up and walk over to her, taking a seat next to her on the bed. She's trying to look anywhere but at me, so I take her chin in my hand and make her look me in the eyes.

“I wish things were different, Leighton.”

“But they're not. You have to do what you have to do, Devon, and I have to do what I can to protect myself,” she says, crossing her arms over her chest in a protective stance.

I search her eyes, trying to see how serious she is. Her breath hitches as I skim the pad of my thumb over her bruised bottom lip, her lips parting slightly in invitation. I lean in and take the same lip my thumb just grazed between mine, needing to taste her, our foreheads touching and her face still cupped in my hands.

I expect her to respond, to kiss me back as I taste her lips, to tangle her fingers in my hair and pull on it until it hurts, but she doesn't do any of that.

“Kiss me back, dammit,” I whisper against her lips.

“Please don't touch me again,” she responds. I let go of her as if she's on fire. “You're being so unfair to me, Devon.”

I get up and cross the room before I do something to make things worse.

“I'm sorry,” I say, my back turned to her as I unlock the door. I don't think I've ever apologized to someone so much in my entire life. I look back at her sullen expression once more and then leave the room.

LEIGHTON

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