Page 119 of Vicious Saint
“One is all I need.”
After the pile of shirts are in my arms, I climb awkwardly to my feet and push past him. “God, you’re such an asshole.”
“I need you to stay away from me,” he states behind me as I toss the shirts, along with some other clothes in my duffle.
“Trust me. I want nothing to do with you.”
Except, thanks to our parents, Saint now haseverythingto do with me.
“And as for my sister—”
With more vigor than necessary, I shove my slippers in the bag. “Let me guess. You’ll out me if I don’t stay away from her too?”
My eyes follow cautiously as he strides around to sit on the bed.
Then, I nearly topple over and die when I hear him say, “No, I won’t.”
“You won’t?”
He shakes his head, and it takes every bone in my body to stop me from asking why. To just take the win while the Saint I used to semi-tolerate is still here.
“What’s the catch?”
Why the hell am I the way that I am?
“No catch. You make her happy.”
Pursing my lips, I respond, “Okay, then.”
Saint’s lost in thought as he gazes across the room long enough for me to finish packing.
I sit next to him on the bed, where he shoots me a side eye before returning to his thoughts.
“I mean it, Jimi,” he finally says, more as a plea than demand. “You need to stay away from me.”
“I already told you I would.”
“Good…because it won’t end well for you if you don’t.”
14
Saint
My engine roars as I speed past every car on the West Side Highway, knuckles flexing painfully around the steering wheel imagining it’s my father’s neck.
How could he?
How fucking could heallow this shit?
His new wife must have one holy cunt if she was able to convince him to let Hendrix stay in my dorm.
I stab call on the touch screen above my dash to try him again…letting out a deep groan when it goes straight to voicemail.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” I slam my palm against the steering wheel.
I try Theory this time. Goes to voicemail.
“Where the fuck are you?” I spit the question after the tone, then continue my assault on the end button.
