Page 99 of Beat of Love
Like he had with the punching bag last night — seeing his enemy’s face in the leather, beating him to death all over again.
“And I wouldn’t’ve been in that fucking bar in the fucking jungle and met Kamila fucking Carvalho. And I fucking certainly would not have become …this.”
The word sat there, filthy and final.
Trent’s voice was gentle, but it didn’t flinch. “What do you thinkthisis, Rafferty?”
“Tainted,” he scoffed. “That’s what my brother called it. Like I’m something that leaks poison.”
“I presume by brother you mean Aidan, not Sullivan.”
“Yeah.”
Because Sullivan was at the ranch too — him and his perfect princess living their perfect life, flying in for the long weekend like royalty. Which they were, of course. Not that Rafferty had seen much of his so-called twin. They were holed up at Aidan and Cecelia’s place, where he — Rafferty Lawson, addict, tainted disgrace — wasn't welcome.
Persona non grata, full stop.
And as for all that twin brotherly love? Sullivan could take it and shove it right up his self-righteous ass.
“And Aidan still won’t let you interact with the boys?”
Rafferty gave a sharp humorless laugh. “Fuck no. Not allowed even within spitting distance. He looks at me like I’m toxic. Like if I so much asspeakto them, they’ll catch whatever disease he thinks I am.” He dragged a hand over his buzzed hair, over the nape of his neck. “And maybe he’s right. I mean … Iama fucking addict.”
Trent didn’t argue.
He didn’t reassure either.
Just let the words hang there.
Then.
“But yesterday … the wedding made me remember … I’m the outsider.”
Trent’s brows lifted, and he wrote something on that infernal pad of his. “That feeling, being outside, that’s not new to you, is it?”
Rafferty blinked, fingers drumming a restless rhythm against his thigh. Childhood memories flickered behind his eyes like a scratched-up film reel, disjointed, grainy, impossible to pause or rewind.
His lips twitched. He stared past Trent, eyes locking on some vague point beyond the office walls. Nowhere, really. “No.”
“When did you first feel alienated from your family?”
The answer rose easily. “It started with Sinead.”
“You think your family blames you for her disappearance?”
“Iblame myself for her disappearance.”
“Why?”
“I should’ve reacted sooner.”
“How old were you?”
“Almost four.”
Trent leaned forward slightly. “A mere baby yourself.”
Rafferty flinched.. His fingers stilled. His breathing grew shallow.
