Page 26 of Wicked Scorn
“You don’t get it, do you?” he murmurs, almost to himself. “I don’t want anyone else looking at…” Jeremiah stops, gesturing his hands up and down my body. His jaw flexes as he takes in my short dress and white knee-high socks. I can see the possessive heat rising in his face.
“I don’t really care what you want,” I counter, my voice rising. “You think smashing my computer and barging in here is protecting me? You’re out of your mind, Jeremiah. Get out of my room.”
He takes a step closer, closing the distance. His breath is hot on my face when he confesses, “I’m not going anywhere until you do give a fuck what I think. I’m not trying to hurt you, bunny.” It’s only on the last word that his tone softens and he sounds like the Jeremiah that I used to know.
He’s invading my space with his towering frame. His green eyes blaze with anger and hurt. “Not that I owe you an explanation, but I went through some stuff and I’m trying to work through it. Just because you aren’t hurting me doesn’t mean no one has.”
“Who? I want a name,” he growls, his breath hot against my face. “I’m not playing twenty questions, bunny. Who was it?” He doesn’t bother asking me what the person did and by the look in his eyes, I don’t think it would matter if I said the guy breathed in my direction. He’s off the rails.
Chapter 10
Jeremiah
My chest is heaving, and a small ache resides in my gut and in my fucking leg from kicking this goddamn door in without any boots on. Sneakers don’t really give you the support you need. And then my girl opens her mouth and I know whatever comes out next will set me into a spiral.
“Someone put hands on me before,” Oakley spits out, her voice trembling but defiant. The words hang in the air, sharp and jagged, slicing through the tension between us.
“Wait, what? What do you mean someone put hands on you?” My voice drops, anger and concern fighting for dominance. I take a step closer, trying to catch her eyes, but she turns her head away. “Who fucking touched you, Oakley?”
“Back again to play the hero?” There’s so much anger in her tone, so out of place with the softness of her usual speech, it stings. “You weren’t here when I needed you.”
“Fuck,” I mutter under my breath. Confusion and frustration swirl in my gut. “I didn’t know—I would’ve been there.”
Her eyes flash with pain, tears threatening tospill over. She’s shaking, her usual composure shattered. “You don’t get it, Jeremiah. You left me, remember? Royce left me. No one was there.”
“Oakley, look at me.” I reach out, gently placing my hands on her arms, feeling the tremor in her body. “Tell me who did this. I need to know.”
Her gaze finally meets mine, a storm of emotions swirling in those crystal blue depths. “I don’t know who it was. He came out of nowhere, took me by surprise.” Her voice breaks, barely more than a whisper.
“Fuck,” I mutter under my breath, frustration and rage boiling inside me. “I need to know what that bastard did to you. I won’t rest until I make him pay.” My grip tightens slightly, full of protectiveness and desperation.
“Sure, Jeremiah,” she scoffs, pushing back a lock of hair with a hand that’s too steady for the rest of her trembling form. “Just like you and Royce used to protect me? Just how easy was it to push me to the back of your mind?”
The accusation hits like a physical blow, and I feel my face contort into a snarl. “That was different, Oakley. This—” I gesture vaguely at the setup around her, “isn’t you.”
“Isn’t me?” Her laugh is hollow, devoid of humor. “And what do you know about me, huh? Since when do you care?”
“Since always,” I snap back, anger and concern warring for dominance inside me. “Since before your brother decided I was the enemy.”
Her blue eyes flash, nothing but storms brewing in their depths. “You left me alone, Jeremiah. All alone.”
The air between us crackles, heavy with unsaid words and pent-up emotions. I fight the urge to reach out, to pull her away from this dark spiral, but I know if I touch her right now,without permission even just to wrap her in my arms it will set her off. Not after everything. Not right now.
“Oakley,” I say, and my voice is raw, stripped of any pretense. “Talk to me.”
She turns her head away, and I can almost hear the walls slamming up around her. But I’m not going anywhere—not this time.
“Jeremiah, let it go,” she pleads, but there’s no way I can. Not after hearing this.
“Not happening, Oakley. Not when someone hurt you.”
Oakley’s eyes well up with tears, her vulnerability on full display. She looks at me and I see the pain etched in every line of her face. “You left me. My brother left me. No one was there to protect me!” Her voice cracks, raw emotion spilling out. “Now I’m fucking broken and trying to put the pieces back together, and all you’re doing is making it that much harder.”
Her words hit me like a punch to the gut. I never wanted to abandon her. I never intended for her to feel so alone. Guilt gnaws at my insides as I take a step closer, reaching out to gently place my hands on her arms. She’s trembling beneath my touch, but I need her to understand that I’m here now.
“Freaking fine, just to get you to stop nagging me,” she whispers, finally agreeing to something. The room falls silent save for our ragged breaths, the weight of her unspoken pain hanging thick in the air between us.
I perch on the edge of a chair I dragged to sit right in front of her on the bed, my eyes fixed on Oakley’s hunched figure. Fear seems to cling to the walls of her cramped room.
