Page 62 of Backfire
“Why do you hate me?”
Devlin didn’t say anything. He just leaned back and studied my face. But I needed something to help me sleep at night. I needed a reason or excuse. Something to help my mind wrap around the way my body responded to him. Because none of this made any sense.
“Did I do something to you?”
He tipped his head and uttered one word. “No.”
“So why do you hate me?”
“Why do you care?”
As far as strange situations went, this was right up at the top of the list. There I was having a conversation about hatred with a guy who had his finger inside me. This definitely was not how I saw my day going.
It wasn’t like Devlin’s opinion of me would change who I fundamentally was. Nor would it affect the outcome of my life. Unless he really did snap my neck, that is. So, why did I care?
I mulled that question over before finally coming to a conclusion. “I don’t want to feel this way about you.”
“You think I wanted the responsibility of taking care of a needy fucking brat?”
Yeah, that’s it. We were done.
He didn’t fight me when I shoved him off me. “I didn’t ask you to take care of me, Devlin.”
“Yet here I am,” he snarled, venom dripping from every word. “Tethered to someone who should’ve never been born.”
“Don’t think so highly of yourself.” I shook my head and walked over to turn off the shower. “Responsibility like that requires a level of maturity you clearly don’t have.”
I’d like to see Devlin Adair spend years making sure an insane person ate every day.
“You’re treading a thin line, Sydney.” His eyes narrowed as his voice lowered an octave. “I’d be careful where that next step lands you.”
A part of me wanted to scream in his face. When had Devlin Adair ever sacrificed anything in his perfect little life? When was the last time he put someone else’s needs before his? But it wasn’t worth playing his game.
He wasn’t worth it.
The only amount of my time that Devlin was worth was the second it took me to glance over my shoulder and say, “Get the fuck out of my room.”
The term “chip on the shoulder” was defined by kids in foster care. Politics didn’t have shit on the way girls competed for attention, while boys fought for power. It was a literal jungle where people like me wanted nothing more than to skate by unnoticed.
Being invisible was the only way to survive the chaos. Even then, people still tried to pull me in. There wasn’t a dick move I hadn’t witnessed, and through it all, I still managed to keep my composure.
Then I came here, where Devlin Adair took all of my calm don’t-give-a-fuck-attitude and smashed it under his boot.
Ten years of keeping my cool was gone with seven little words.
“Get the fuck out of my room.”
I’d never tasted rage like that. Even now, hours later, the bitterness was still there. If Devlin had continued his assault and chased me out of the bathroom, I would understand why anger lingered in my system. But he didn’t. Devlin didn’t even say a word to me when walked out of my room, and that was somehow worse.
Devlin Adair dismissed me, and now I was planning his murder. I’d been going over and over it in my head, plotting out every last detail, right down to what I’d do with the body. A tap to the head and a dirt nap felt a little too simple.
Don’t get me wrong, I’d love to piss on his grave—he’d do the same to mine—but it was all a little mundane. Tossing him into a pit of hungry animals…
Now that seemed more fitting. It wasn’t very often that someone got to watch a bunch of pigs tear their enemy apart. I think I saw a couple of farms on the way out here.
Giving the elastic one final twist around my braid, I craned my neck and gazed out the window over the treetops. Not that it did me any good. The town was only visible from the front of the house.
Back here, there was nothing but miles and miles of rocky hillsides and greenery. I’d never seen so many spruce and pine trees in one place.
