Page 82 of Clinch'd

“What if I don’t want revenge?” I ask softly.

“Either way,” he says with a shrug.

“Right,” I say, attempting a smile but it’s rather pitiful if his grimace is anything to go by.

The problem is, I can’t get his words out of my head. He may be doing this to be an ass, but it’s hard not to perseverate on being less than. I mean don’t get me wrong, I’m devastated that he’s fucking my sister but to be told point blank you don’t compare? Way fucking harsh.

“Fine. Here’s the deal, Cooper fucking Jackson hates the thought of me being happy. So, we make him think we’re in love,” he says with a curl of his lip, “and it will drive him crazy.”

“You’re supposedly my cousin,” I mutter, ignoring the pulse of desire I have to rub it in Cooper’s face. Maybe I do want revenge. If I’m out and about with Beast, he’ll think I don’t care about him and Lorri. Maybe.

“Whatever, if he hasn’t figured out that it was a game, he’s stupider than I thought,” he mutters.

“So, we…what? Pretend to be dating?”

“Yep. It’ll make him crazy.”

“What’s in it for you?” I ask, studying him, carefully.

Beast has never cared about me before. I’m not stupid enough to not be suspicious.

“Other than fucking with that shit? I’ve got a bitch up my ass.”

“I’m sorry what?”

“She’s all over me. Won’t let up. Maybe if she thinks I’m with you, she’ll back off,” he says, moodily.

“Did you sleep with her?”

He gives me a look and I sigh. “So, you slept with her, she caught feelings and now you want her to go away? Is that about, right?” I ask and he winces at my shrill tone.

“She knew the deal,” he grumbles.

“Right. Men are pigs. Aren’t they?” I ask in disbelief.

He smirks. “Yep, and you’d have been better off remembering that when you fucked dickwad.”

“I can’t believe I’m going to say this, but fine although you need to pretend like you actually like me.”

“What do you mean?” he asks, rolling his shoulders and I cast my eyes to the ceiling.

“Hello, you can’t walk away and leave me to get out of the car by myself. Stuff like that,” I say and his brows furrow.

“Really?”

“Yes, women don’t like to be treated that way, it shows a rather obvious lack of respect.”

“Huh.”

The last week has been both agonizing and super slow. When I’m not at work, I mope around my apartment and stare at Lorri’s things, missing her. Which is weird, because I’ve spent years wishing she would grow up and move out and here she is gone and I’m the one left behind.

We haven’t truly been apart since she turned eighteen. After our mother died, we were separated when we were placed in foster care. I was eight years old and therefore a lot harder to place for adoption than my sweet, precocious four-year-old sister. It took about a year, but she eventually found a forever home while I bounced around until a kind older couple took me in when I was fourteen.

They didn't adopt me, but I fostered with them until I couldn’t take it any longer and like a little shit, I ran away. I lived in places I’d rather forget and beyond the memories of my parents the things I did rank up there as the top worst experiences of my life.

Lorri still speaks to the family who raised her and I’m lucky that they didn't think to keep us apart, which meant I was able to visit her from time to time and eventually we stayed in touch via phone.

When she turned eighteen, she moved in with me and she’s been here ever since. I’ve had a lot of time to think about it and I’ve come to realize that it was never Lorri who needed me but the other way around. I kept her here by paying the bills and basically being her free ride, because subconsciously I think I knew it was the only way to maintain that connection.

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