Page 48 of Craving Venom

I push through the door so hard it smacks against the wall, making the few people inside look up. Jason turns his head, and when his eyes land on me, he freezes.

“Fancy seeing you here.”

“Faith?”

“Oh, good. You still know my name.” I tilt my head. “That’s surprising, considering I was under the impression you were fucking dead.”

His mouth opens, then closes. His jaw works like he’s trying to find an excuse, something to make this less insane.

I don’t let him.

“How could you?” My voice wavers, but it’s not weak. It’s too full of anger for that. “Do you have any fucking idea what I went through? At least when you were dead, it made sense that I was sad. It made sense that I was drowning in grief, that I—” I choke on my own words, and fuck, I hate him for this.

Jason shifts uncomfortably. “Faith, I—”

“Who even was it?” I snap. “Who the fuck called me pretending to be your mother? Who told me you were gone?”

His gaze darts to the girl beside him.

Oh, fuck no.

“Are you fucking serious?” I turn to the girl, who looks way too uncomfortable for someone dating a walking corpse. “Did you know?”

Her eyes widen. “What? No, I—”

Jason finally finds his voice. “Faith, just calm down.”

I grab his coffee and hurl it at him.

The coffee hits Jason dead center, splashing over his shirt and dripping onto the table. Some of it splatters onto the girl beside him, dark stains blooming across the sleeve of her sweater.

She gasps, jerking back in shock.

And for a split second, I feel satisfied.

Jason fucking deserves it. Every drop. Every burning second of it.

But then I see the girl.

She’s not the one who faked her fucking death. She’s not the one who let me sob into my goddamn pillow for months, wondering what the last thing I said to him was, if I could have saved him, if he regretted leaving me behind.

She’s just a girl,

And I did to her exactly what Jason did to me.

The library is dead silent except for the distant conversation from the far end of the room. The weight of a dozen stares presses down on me.

I swallow hard, forcing my breath to steady.

“I’m sorry,” I say. Not to Jason. I look at the girl, who’s still frozen, fingers twitching toward her sleeve, torn between wiping it down or blotting. “That wasn’t fair.”

She blinks, probably as stunned as I am that I actually apologized.

Then I turn, shoving past the chairs, the tables, the goddamn eyes burning into me. I need to get the fuck out of here.

Jason calls after me. “Faith, wait.”

I don’t.

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