Page 310 of My Sweet Dollie, You Have to Love Me
“I have a lot on my mind.”
“Like what? Who was the cake even for? Not your freak brother, right?”
“Stop,” I cry out.
“Stop what? Pulling your hair?” He yanks on it that bit harder, pulling out even more strands. “Or insulting your ugly brother?”
“Just stop,” I plead, so much desperation in my tone.
“You’re fucking disgusting, do you know that? And you wonder why I look at other girls. All your ugly scars, all your insecurities?—”
“How can you even say that to me?” I tremble as more hate leaves his mouth.
“Because I don’t fucking care about you anymore. I just don’t fucking give one shit about you!”
No, that was proven years ago, and even as I tremble in the corner, I can’t stop myself from letting him know that I already knew that. “Is that why you sent me a letter from Ambrose, threatening to kill me?”
His hand in my hair tightens enough for him to lift me from the floor and throw me onto the bed. He looms above me, his knees pinning me down. Real fear stops me from fighting back.
I freeze beneath his sweaty body, memories of the last time in the foyer strangle me. I feel his hand wrap around my throat before he touches my neck, and mentally, I need to escape from it. New memories, ones with Ambrose on the sofa, flood my mind.
The way his touch nervously skated up my thigh.
God, Ambrose?—
Shane must see all my thoughts play out on my face because the anger becomes too much. His red cheeks glow as he shoves my phone in my face and spits, “You act so innocent. But you’re nothing but a fucking slut.”
I shake my head, tears leaking from my eyes, because in some way, I feel like he’s right.
“Does he have your number?”
“Ambrose?” I play dumb.
“Don’t say that cunt’s fucking name around me! I don’t want him near you, talking to you. I want him out of your fucking life. Block him, and I’ll block them.”
I can’t even talk to tell him that he’s being ridiculous. That I won’t cut Ambrose—someone I’ve cared about my whole life—out of my life, in exchange for him to do the same with randoms from the internet.
Not now…
Not when I know everything.
Not when I feel the way I do. My heart is with Ambrose. It beats different when I’m with Ambrose.
“BLOCK HIS NUMBER. DON’T SPEAK TO HIM. SEE HIM FOR WHAT HE IS. SCUM!” I jump at the harshness of his tone.
Shane’s hate is still met with my silence, and that results in him reaching for my phone.
I can barely breathe as he taps my screen. Air stalls in my lungs, waiting for him to click on certain messages. Certain emails.
He waves the phone in my face, my contacts screen in my view. He’s typed in Ambrose La’Darragh, and nothing has come up.
“Why isn’t he showing up?”
“I’ve never asked him for his number.”
A big breath leaves me, and a new pain arrives as he throws my phone into my face, and it hits me in the teeth.
“I don’t fucking believe you!” he screams into my ear as I turn my head and cup the pain.
