Page 32 of Broken by my Bully
“Kai must have hurt you badly.” Maybe if he’d phrased it as a question, his statement wouldn’t have caught me so offguard.
“I—what?”
“When you were children. Did he hurt you?” His voice is gentle, almost therapeutic.
But Riversiders don’t snitch, fuckingever.
“Kids can play rough sometimes,” I say breezily.
His smile is too smug. Too fucking self-assured. “Especially when there’s no one around to supervise.”
Something about the way he says it makes me think he already knows.
About the woods.
About our games.
Abouteverything.
“You’re not alone anymore, Miss Lee.”
He gives me a lingering scan, the corner of his mouth curling up terribly seductively. Or maybe it’s just the sight of those two men clutching each other so passionately that’s turned me into such a horndog.
“If you ever need to talk, my office hours are very flexible.”
I scoff before I can stop myself, and for a split second, something dark crosses his face.
“Wounds need the proper care to heal, or they’ll scar.” He takes hold of my wrist, digging his thumb right into the bruise Kai left there. I gasp, ripping my arm free.
“Don’t let him leave you scarred, Haven.”
Haven
I wince when I accidentally slam my car door. Jeez, I’ve got to be more careful. The state this thing’s in, it wouldn’t surprise me if the fender falls off. Auto repairs are definitely not in my budget. Not that I even have a budget. You only need to plan your money if you actually have some.
The faint hum of Pie Palace’s white neon sign greets me as I walk around to the front of the building. I tug at the hem of my outfit—a faded mustard-yellow smock made from cheap polyester.
I couldn’t care what I look like. I just wish the thing didn’t itch so much.
It’s not like anyone from AHC is likely to see me in it. This diner is so close to Riverside, no one from the upper suburbs would dare eat here for fear of catching poverty.
I’m working behind the counter tonight, which I love because it means I can keep a flipped-open textbook hidden just out of sight to study from when I’m not serving customers.
“Coffee and pie.”
I take my pen out of my mouth and blink up at the guy sittingopposite me. I was so zoned in on my textbook I didn’t notice him walking in.
As soon as I see his face, it feels like someone’s dragging my polyester dress up my back.
“Uh, yeah, sure. Coming right up.” I try to sound chipper, but there’s an uneven cadence in my voice.
I know this guy. Sure, Agony Hollow is a small town, so no duh, but I saw him like less than an hour ago.
In a car stopped behind me at the intersection as I was driving to work from the campus grounds.
I’m not imagining it.
Same wire-framed glasses and slack expression.
