Page 41 of Maddox
“You did what?” I snap, spinning around.
“What was I supposed to do? You weren’t talking to me,” he shouts.
“Not talk to Peter,” I bellow, and he steps back, holding out his hands.
I can’t believe he called my stepdad. Will this get back to my mom? She’s teetering on the edge as it is.
Hearing from Micah could be the last fucking straw. Doesn’t he understand just how screwed up this is?
He was there the day my brother died. Grow a fucking brain…dick.
“Look,” he says after a moment. “He told me you ran away. I’m worried about you, babe.”
My anger thaws in the wake of his genuine concern but it doesn’t change the facts. I don’t trust him and I’d rather live with my useless dad than fight with Micah.
He ruined something that I stupidly thought was special and while I no longer obsess over his actions, I’m still hurt that he can’t see what he did was wrong.
“Look, I gotta go,” I mumble, ignoring his halfhearted goodbye.
Of course, Micah proceeds to text me over and over until I’m forced to turn off my phone just to have a few minutes of peace.
I’m sure he wants to get back together. Either that or he heard that Becky’s pissant boyfriend stopped me in the hall yesterday to ask me out,again.
I said no, obviously but this asshole has to take it out on me. Not that it’s his business anyway.
I can’t believe that I spent so many years kowtowing to him, walking on eggshells to make sure he didn’t get mad. For what?
“Delaney!” Joey calls from the living room.
Rolling over with a sigh, I open my door and say, “What?”
“Answer the fucking door,” he grunts, and I step down the hall.
Who the hell could that be? Draven?
When I peek through the curtains, I groan. How the fuck did Micah find me? Why?
“You gonna have friends over, get the damn door yourself,” Joey grumbles.
“Fuck off,Dad,” I sneer, and he whips around.
“Little bitch. Shoulda left you in a ditch. Helen’s been too soft.”
Crossing my arms, I lean over his pathetic stinky ass and growl, “Why didn’t you?”
His eyes flicker and he looks away while he chugs his beer. When he’s done, he crushes it in his meaty hand and says, “Don’t matter now.”
“Doesn’t it? You’re a drunk ass loser. What do you know?”
We’re both shocked when he pops me in the mouth before sitting back, his eyes wide.
Grabbing my face, I step away as he says, “Shut the fuck up. I saved your ass, you little bitch.”
“Really?” I sneer.
“Yeah,” he hisses. “You think you’re so smart. You’re fucking stupid. Just like she was, hanging all over those fucking saints.”
Saints? As in the MC?
