Page 88 of No Saint
He was with her on Saturday, right before he had walked to my house. I didn’t know how to feel about that. He’d chosen meover her, but the way she was looking at him—like he was the only thing she’d ever wanted. I knew that feeling well.
Just when I thought I could finally be brave and admit my feelings for him, when I had hope, doubt shoved its bony fingers in the old, barely patched cracks of my heart and pried them open.
I passed Cassie’s phone back as sirens rang out somewhere in the town. “Why would I care who he talks to?”
“Because you do.”
“I don’t?—”
“Not according to the heartbroken expression on your face right now.” She shoved her phone back into her apron pocket. “Look, he’s your ex. I get it. But have you thought that maybe he’s leading you on as some kind of payback?”
Everything in me recoiled at the prospect of Wolf even being capable of something that cruel. But I didn’t want to admit that, yes, I had considered it. “He’s not leading me on.” It was a weak defense.
“Sharing a bed with you isn’t leading you on?” She ticked off her fingers. “Driving you to school, breakfast, taking you to Dayton…”
I felt like Monroe was the angel on my shoulder, and Cassie was the devil. Or was it the other way around?
“It’s not like that.”
“I’m just saying, the guy hated you two weeks ago. Like, major lingering butthurt. He blackmailed you, Jade.” She shrugged a shoulder. “And he was hanging out with his ex last night.”
She was right. When we’d first moved into the house, I had felt the hatred pouring off him. Who was I to say what a person was capable of when hurt? I’d been absent from Wolf’s life for a year and a half—a stranger. I couldn’t trust my own emotions where he was concerned, everything felt through the hazywarmth of first love. I loved him, and probably always would, but by the looks of it, he could just as well love Nora. And she hadn’t broken his heart.
Twenty-Two
Wolf
Back in Pikestown, Dog’s paws dug into my thigh when I drove into the Kanga Mart parking lot. I’d spent the last hour listening to Mrs. Seaton lecture me on how she’d seen me look at Jade in Wal-E-Mart. How I’d kept glancing back at her in the truck when I dropped Dog off yesterday. I hated how people with more life experience had no problem pointing out what I already knew but wanted to deny.
I pulled into a spot, cracked the window, and then placed him in the passenger seat. “Stay there.”
Dog huffed when I reached for the door. “Don’t dig up the seat, and I’ll get you Doritos.” Promising Doritos to a dog if he behaved felt oddly familiar to how I handled Hendrix.
I went straight to the back of the store, scanning the selection of chips. When the bell over the door dinged, I glanced over the shelves. A habit born of years of shoplifting and watching for cops. A cop would have been a more welcoming sight than Blocked-My-Number Brent strolling in, the black eye I’d given him now a nasty yellowish-green. He either didn’t notice me on his way to the restrooms, or he’d chosen to ignore me.
I grabbed a bag of Original Doritos, trying to tamp down the anger rising in my chest like a provoked cobra, fangs out and hissing. That motherfucker was the reason for half the emotional bullshit I’d endured the past two years, not to mention my suspension.
The bag crinkled in my hand when I imagined the smug-ass expression that must have crossed his stupid face when he’d blocked my number. When he’d kept me out of the way and stolen my girl. Of course he had to manipulate Jade into dating his sorry ass.
He’d destroyed not one but two of my dreams.
I told myself he wasn’t worth it. To be the bigger person, pay for the damn chips, and leave the store, but the thought of him snaking his way into Jade’s bed had me frozen in rage. Then I thought about him possibly having slashed her tires. I told myself that was the reason I chucked the chips onto the shelf and headed to the back of the store. That he’d crossed a line by fucking with her, but the truth was, he’d crossed my line a long time ago.
I rounded the coolers, snatching open the restroom door.
Brent stood at the urinal, dick in hand. He didn’t glance over his shoulder until the lock clicked, then his face washed white. “I just…” He crammed his dick back into his jeans. When he went to move around me, I snatched him by the shirt and slammed him against the cinderblock wall hard enough to force a grunt from his lips.
“You slashed her fucking tires on Friday night?”
“What? No.” He shook his head. “I haven’t seen her since…since Tuesday.”
I used more of my weight to press him to the wall, and he winced.
“I’m serious. I wouldn’t do that. I swear.”
“You think I’m going to believe your bullshit?” My grip tightened.
He clawed at my hand, panic crawling over his face like a little bitch. “I-I love her.” Those words were akin to acid burning through my veins. “I wouldn’t?—”
