Page 72 of Vicious Sentiments

He comes to the threshold, pausing, and I see it. The disappointment. But I can’t tell if it’s because of my state or what he had todo for me. With two long strides and no hesitation, he throws the blanket off of me.

“What are you doing?” I panic.

“Enough wallowing. You need to be better than this,” he grunts and grabs my ankle. He slides me to the end of the bed and then shoves his arms under me.

I’m cradled against his chest before his words even register. “Better than what?” I ask, even though I know what he means. I think I just need the distraction from how nice his chest feels.

“I’m not going to feel bad anymore. You aren’t going to lock yourself in here and try to bury what happened. You need to grow a pair,” he huffs.

I wriggle against him, suddenly angry, because he’s right. I’ve endured so much, so similar to the display in the kitchen, albeit without death, and I’m suddenly put off when it happens to someone else? Someone who deserved it?

I need to get it together because the way Julian made it sound, this isn’t some shocking event. Margo only seemed pissed off because it was in her house. The sentiment ofdon’t shit where you eatcomes to mind.

“You won’t last long here otherwise,” he says, as if reading my mind. “And I’m not going to baby you like Julian.”

At the end of his sentence he lowers his body and drops me into the bathtub, clothes and all. I gasp, expecting ice water but I’m met with a warm hug and bubbles seeping up around me. I’m quickly soaked and partially stunned.

“So take a bath, clean yourself up, and get your shit together.” He starts to stalk out and my own voice surprises me.

“Wait!”

He freezes and then slowly turns. “What?” His eyes burn into mine and my mind turns to mush. WhatdoI want?

I sit forward in the water and grab the ledge. “I’m sorry.”

He narrows his eyes and raises his chin. “For what?”

I open my mouth and then snap it closed. I don’t know how to tell him how I feel.

He groans and walks back over. “What could you possibly be sorry for?”

I look away from his gaze and stare at the bubbles. “For what you had to do.”

He makes a balking noise. “For what I had to do?What the fuck are you talking about?”

“If I hadn’t…” I start but I can’t bring myself to sayif I hadn’t been so weak.

“Woah. Woah. Woah. You think you need to apologize formekilling your dad?” he sounds incredulous and I look up to see a similar expression.

He sits on the edge of the tub and smirks. “I mean if you want to take the blame…”

I manage a little eye roll and he grows serious. “You are more fucked up in the head than I thought. You do know that what happened was in no way your fault right?”

“But if I hadn’t—”

“Shut up. Nothing you could have done would have stopped me from losing my shit. Even if he hadn’t laid a finger on you, I probably would have done the same. Just one look at that piece of shit and I would have been able to tell. He had it coming, and I’d do it again if given the chance. Men like him don’t deserve to live. The sooner you realize that, the better off you’ll be.”

His lips pull down suddenly. “Now, if you’re mad at me, you better get over it.”

“I’m not mad at you.”

“Afraid of me, whatever.”

“I’m not afraid of you either.”

“Then what’s your problem, why are you hiding up here?”

I bite my lip and absently push at the bubbles, realizing the real issue.

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