Page 90 of Bad Kind of Love

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Wes

“Are you sleeping with him?” The words catch at the end of my throat, slicing my insides as I repeat the same question.

The sinking feeling in my chest was nothing compared to the rage that consumed my body. Staring down into the eyes that once made me fall to my knees, they were now smeared in black makeup that stained her cheeks.

Just say no, I begged as her betrayal began sinking in and her face contorted in sorrow.

I was no longer staring into the eyes of the beautiful girl who I first met. This person was different… I had no fucking clue who I was looking at now.

“Jesus christ.” I shake my head while taking a step back, trying to process everything in my head. Unable to meet her eyes, the anger inside me rises, and the voice inside my head screams at them both.

How could she do this to me?

Her hand reaches out to comfort me, but all I see is red.

“Don’t touch me, Becca.” I growl, imagining all the times she’s touched my dad with those hands. “I can’t even fucking look at you.”

My dad’s tall frame stands behind Becca, like her protector as he watches me like I’m the fucking bad guy. His expression was like acid to the eyes as he stood there silent. Most likely grinning ear to ear on the inside that the girl I loved chose him over me.

“You’re fucking dead to me.” I hissed up into my dad's heartless eyes, and then dropped them to Becca’s. “You both are.”

Her eyes widened and her hand flew to her chest.

That’s right. Fucking stings doesn’t it?

My heart felt stomped on, repeatedly taking blows until the pain eventually turned numb. Numb to heartbreak and everything to do with Becca O’Connor.

With one last look, I stormed away, sprinting as fast as I could down the lawn. I heard Becca call out to me, begging me not to leave.

Her cries stung, but her betrayal stung more.

With no direction in mind, I run until my lungs collapse and the need to get as fucked up as possible seems to be the only solution to healing this pain.

Pulling out my phone, I call Hunter.

“Anything going on tonight?” I wheeze, trying to catch my breath. Hearing voices in the background, I can tell he’s at a party.

“Hell yeah, come to Vicky’s house.” He slurs through the phone.

“I’ll be there.”

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