Page 37 of Vengeful Rotten Casualties

My ears twitch at this new knowledge. “Is she?”

He shrugs again. “Not sure, but he’s worried she might be so I thought I’d feel you out. See where your head’s at.”

“You wanted to see what I know,” I guess. And fuck, I know absolutely nothing. It pisses me off to admit that, especially considering how close Micki and I used to be. But the Micki now is nothing like who she once was. She’s harder. More secretive, for sure. Calculating. And I get that she’s had to be.

“Do you have any clue what she’s planning to do with Bennington’s father when she gets a hold of him?” Brax asks.

My hand grips the handle of my duffle bag, but I don’t lift it and swing it over my shoulder immediately. “Honestly?” I release a slow breath, watching the hard beat of my pulse tick in the veins in my arm. “I don’t have a fucking clue what’s going on in her head. She doesn’t tell me shit.”

Braxton is quiet for a moment and then he hums under his breath. “That’s a problem.”

I growl and rip the duffle up to sling it over my back. “I fucking know that,” I snap. “But things aren’t the way they were before. Shit’s different. She doesn’t trust easily anymore.” I’m damn lucky she’s sticking around as much as she is, and I know it. I know she’s using me and I don’t even give a fuck. I want her to use me more than she is. I want her to include me in whatever it is that she’s planning, but there’s been no conversation. We haven’t cleared the air. Hell, we haven’t even talked about what happened to her for the last five years. We’ve danced around the fucking subject and it’s driving me to the brink of insanity.

“If she’s not trusting you,” Brax says, “then you need to find a way to make her, and if you can’t make her then you’ve got to get the information in any other way you can.”

I cut a glare his way. “Are you suggesting I put a tail on her?” I can’t say the thought isn’t tempting.

Braxton lifts his shoulders and lowers them again. “I’m suggesting you do whatever it takes.”

“Whatever it takes…” The words drift off my tongue and they sound so fucking easy. Easier than actually putting them into action, but that’s just the way with everything, isn’t it? I scrub a hand down my face and turn away. “If you want more information about what Ava’s doing, ask her yourself,” I call over my shoulder as I make my way across the field towards the parking lot. There’s no response, but I feel Braxton’s gaze on my back the entire way.

* * *

The anxiety never alleviates.That itching sensation merely intensifies, even later in the night when I’m lying in bed with a sleeping Micki against my naked chest.

It’s an unfamiliar nagging in my gut that makes me think I’m slowly losing my goddamn mind.What is it about her? Why her? Why was it always her? Why will it always just be … her?

Micki moves in her sleep, groaning slightly as her eyes roll behind her closed eyelids. She moves against me, pressing into my chest before her face nuzzles down between my pecs. My lips twitch. Just like a cat. She used to do that when we were kids too—snuggle and rub her face against me in her sleep. It’s good to know that at least some things never change, even if the whole world tortures you and forces you to outgrow your innocence far too soon.

I’m not an idiot. I know that there are things she doesn’t tell me. Everything about the last five years of her life is vague for a reason. She doesn’t want me to blame myself, but that’s not something she can help. I already do. I always will blame myself for the shit she went through. I’ve felt the way she freezes against me when I touch her intimately.

We’ve not spoken about ityet, but her past lurks like shadows on a cave wall dancing around us, telling a story so grotesque that it makes my gut churn. It’ll be with her forever and my only saving grace is knowing that so will I.

I wrap one arm around her and drag her closer against me as the heater kicks on, pumping out warm air across the room. Feeling the hot puffs of her breath against my skin, I close my eyes and beg for sleep. The universe must answer my plea because the next time I open my eyes, warm sunlight is pouring in through the windows of my bedroom and the mattress in front of me is empty and cold.

I quickly sit up and scan the room, a now familiar panic etching into my mind, but other than the door hanging open when I knew I’d closed it the night before, there’s no sign of Micki. My heart beats faster as I toss the covers to the side and snatch up a discarded pair of boxers. I storm out into the hall and practically run towards the kitchen, only slowing my pace when I hear the beep of the coffee maker.

She’s not gone. She’s still here.

Rounding the corner, I spot Micki—freshly showered and dressed—as she pours coffee into a white mug at the counter. She turns as I enter the room and arches a brow. “Were you that excited for coffee?” she asks, her lips tilting up.

My heart slows down. Beat by beat as I step towards her. I can’t help myself. I tell her the truth. “I thought you’d left.”Again.I don’t say the word but it hangs in the room like an invisible accusation. A barrier.

Her smile falls slowly until her lips are pressed tightly together and the pretty pink skin is stretched tight. Her brows scrunch and she looks up at me from beneath her lashes. “I’m not leaving,” she says, her words quiet. They don’t make me feel better because even if she doesn’t say it, I hear the ‘yet’ in her tone.

“What about after you’re done?” I ask. “With Bennington and everyone else? What happens when you’ve gotten your revenge?”

Micki doesn’t reply immediately. Instead, she turns back to the counter and sets the coffee carafe back into place before setting her mug next to it. Her hands curve over the counter’s ledge, and I take another step towards her.

“I used to know what you were thinking,” I say. “I used to be able to look at you and know everything inside your mind, but now…” Now she’s as unreadable to me as an ancient text. Understanding her thoughts is like digging through a pile of sand for one specific grain. Impossible. Frustrating. Damning.

Micki releases a slow breath and as she starts talking, my feet stop too. I’m right behind her, close enough that the heat of her skin touches mine. “My revenge doesn’t mean absolution from the things I’ve done or the things that have been done to me.”

“That’s not what I asked,” I tell her. I’m shocked by how steady my words are because inside, I’m fucking shaking. Terrified that I’ll wake up again and she’ll be gone—disappearing into the wind like a gust of smoke. There for a second and then dispersed until there’s nothing left but a fading memory. “We haven’t even talked about what happened to you. Are you ever actually going to tell me?”

She doesn’t look back at me, determined to avoid my gaze as she speaks. “I think you’re already aware of the kind of things I went through. I don’t want to bore either of us with the details.”

“Bore?” I shake my head and grab her by the shoulder, turning her forcefully and making her look me in the eyes. “Don’t bullshit me, Micki. You might have changed in the last few years, but you’re not a completely different person. I know what you’re fucking doing. You’re protecting me because you don’t want me to feel guilty. Well, tough shit. I already feel guilty.”

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