Page 319 of My Sweet Dollie, You Have to Love Me
He’ll never know you were here.
Part of me wonders why she’s so scared for him to find out what’s going on between us, if she’s really gonna end it tomorrow. Part of me thinks I already know. The fear in her small voice screams into my ears. She is still afraid of him, despite what she said earlier.
Thoughts of retracting my phone and telling her to stay run through my head, but before either of those things happens, she snatches it from my hand and hurries into the secret hallway.
Closing that door and sealing her in, I open the other.
“What the fuck do you want?” I snap, unable to hide my anger.
This short ass, who stretches to see over my shoulder and into my room, is exactly what I need to see to deflate my dick.
“Where is she?”
“Who?” I play dumb, just to watch his round face get redder.
“Your sister.”
“What do I look like, her fucking keeper?”
“I know she was in here a second ago.”
“Oh, really? Tell me, did she vanish into thin air?”
Shane’s still scouting behind me as my gaze drops down him. He looks clean aside from two chocolate stains, one on the front of his pants and the other on the side of his lip.
“See for yourself?” I step aside, stretching an arm out for him to enter.
A stubby finger pushes my light switch, illuminating the room. Shane’s feet pad my carpet, moving first to my bathroom, then to look under my bed. He ignores the sacks of Dollie’s stuff, not realizing my room is harboring all the things he wouldn’t let her keep. “I’m checking the closet.”
“You do that.” As I answer, he’s already dragging hangers across a metal rail to check if Dollie’s hiding behind clothes I haven’t worn since I was fifteen.
I pick up the pizza and take it to the bathroom trash can, only to find him in the center of my room when I return.
“I coulda sworn she was in here.”
I roll my eyes. My stomach rolls, too, that sour taste of vomit in the back of my throat again.
Heading to my nightstand, I open the bottle of water I keep there for bed and take a drink.
“You know what that’s called? Paranoia—a very dangerous thing.” I return the cap to the bottle, setting it down now that I’m done. The plastic crackles, making irritating background noises as I deliver a threat. “Wouldn’t want you to act on those false thoughts and have someone retaliating with some very real violence.”
I step forward. “Now, if you’re done, it’s the middle of the fucking night, go to bed. You need the beauty sleep.”
His judgmental eyes roam over me and my every scar, but he says nothing. A wise choice, given it’s my last probation meeting next week, and I won’t have someone watching my every move.
I’m not a violent person, not in the slightest, but Shane just angers me to the point I feel my blood boiling just by looking at him.
Stepping into his shadow, I stomp all over it, almost wishing it were his head as he steps into the hallway.
“Good boy,” I smirk.
The look he gives me for that comment, which brings him down a few pegs, is priceless.
“Fuck you,” he says, with a smile revealing food stuck in between his teeth.
Dollie appears in the hallway.
I dim my light to minimize the chances of her spying my clover, but it also limits what I see of her pretty face.
