Page 144 of Inflame

I shake my head at him, pulling the sheet up to cover my chest. I no longer feel comfortable in front of him. I no longer feel desired. And the safety net that I once saw in him is shredded apart, just like every fucking good thing I ever had in my life. “Aninterlude?”

“Yes, Claire, dammit. This was just—”

“You didnotjust describe what we have together as a fucking filler activity.” My tone comes out angrier than I expect, when deep down I am devastatingly sad. Destroyed and broken. I’m as expendable to him as I was to Ethan. And even now, as my heart shatters apart into a million unrecognizable pieces, I imagine taking Nic back in this moment—if he would just say sorry.

But he doesn’t say sorry. He doesn’t say anything. He just fucking stands there watching me move further and further away from him emotionally, without a care.

It’s almost like he likes toying with my most vulnerable insecurities, breathing life into them, and reminding me that at my core I’m unlovable. Not even my family wants me.

“I don’t have relationships, Claire. I just fuck for fun.”

“Glad I could be a palate cleanser for you,” I state sarcastically, throwing myself out of bed to find clothes to wear. I walk over to my unpacked luggage and pull out a long-sleeved dress and slide it over my head, forgoing any undergarments. “Why are you trying to waste away what we have together? Huh?” I ask, charging toward him. I place my hands on his chest and push. “Why? How do I deserve this treatment? We have never been casual. Why are you trying to act like we were? I am your brother’s fiancée’s best friend, and you are basically treating me like shit. A fucking bed warmer? Really? This is really happening? What are you scared of, Nic Hoffman? And why was I tempting enough for you to want to bed in the first place? Out of all the women you could have shoved your cock into, why choose me?”

His jaw ticks over my ranting words. “I have a type, Claire.”

“Oh really? And what type is that, Nic?”

“I like bad girls. Ones who stray. Ones who know the fucking score.”

His words burn like a wildfire raging through my body, inflaming everything into a fiery ball that culminates and settles in the pit of my stomach. I feel disgusted and betrayed by this idea that we could be good for each other, when in reality, he is the worst type of man for me. In all of my dating history, I have never had someone hurt me as much as Nic Hoffman has hurt me in this very moment—not even Ethan.

I don’t want to be his bad girl. I don’t want to be his anything.

Tears well up in my eyes, and I wipe harshly to keep them from falling in front of the very man who caused them to form in the first place. I don’t want to shed them. Nic doesn’t deserve to see my raw emotion. He doesn’t deserve any part of me.

My nose runs as my eyes refuse to stay dry. I sniffle into the sleeve of my dress, trying to force the zipper of my luggage to close. I huff and tug, trying to press down on the case at the same time I pull on the metal handle of the zipper.

Nic walks over to me to assist, and I shove him so hard to stay away from me.

“Don’t you come near me!” I snap, picking up the luggage sideways and carrying it toward the door, with articles of clothing sticking out of the sides.

“I’m sorry, Claire. I never wanted—”

I turn around in the frame of the door to glare daggers at his pale form, making him stop midsentence. He has the promise ofneverwritten all over his face. How could I be this stupid? Everything is so obvious when I take off the rose-colored glasses and really see him for what he is. His hollowed heart doesn’t need fixing—it needs destroying. And I can only hope that no woman after me ever feels the rage I have boiling inside for this weak man.

“Let me—”

“No! Not another word.”

I have heard enough from his mouth. He has the nerve to look sincere. What a fraud!

“I’m sorry.”

“Oh, don’t do that. Don’t give me the fake fucking apologies. And what do you have to be sorry for when this was probably your ultimate plan the whole time?” I watch as his face pales, and his eyes look off to the side of the room. “It was, wasn’t it? You bastard!”

“Claire—”

“I hate you. I fucking hate you. I hate everything about you.” But not any more than I hate myself for falling in love with a man who only was destined to break my heart.

“I know,” he says solemnly.

“We are over. So even if you manage to get your egotistical head out of your ass long enough to see what you are missing out on, I will never go back to you. I have too much self-worth to degrade myself any more than you have done in this moment. I deserve better.”

“I know.”

“You know what the biggest side effect of sleeping with you is, Nic?” I ask, hoisting my luggage up so it doesn’t fall out of my arms.

“What?”

---