Page 186 of Vicious Saint
“That’s in the past. Let it go.”
“It’s not that easy.”
“And you think what I’m doing right now is? Look at me!” He punches his chest. “I’ve never sought any girl’s approval besides my sister. Asked before taking. Relinquished my power. There’s a lotta fucking firsts I’m fighting here too.”
Firsts…
A keen sense of awareness pierces my chest, making me wince.
Like every other good intention, Saint’s performance with Annalie was nothing more than his twisted way of seeing if I want to be with him. Of showing he’s willing to let go of his freedom, reputation, even the war within himself and between us.
For me.
Something, in the entire year I’ve known Saint, I’d never even imagine he was capable of.
Vic was right again.
“How was I supposed to know?”
“You weren’t,” he responds, filled with honest disappointment. “You were supposed to trust me.”
Here lies the gruesome irony.
That, in spite of every molecule screaming inside me, my trust in Saint has been the only constant in our relationship since day one.
It’s why I spent a week tangled up in him, not once considering he’d still be having sex with other girls.
“Saint…I...”
“Just fucking forget it.”
A throat clears by the door, and when I look I find Bex and Archer, eyes wide with disbelief.
Realization hits that they’re here while I’m undressed…in front of Saint. Who they still think I hate.
“Sorry, Carlo let us in.” Bex cringes. “Are we, uh, interrupting something?”
Archer purses his lips. “Read the room, Bex.”
Saint opens the nightstand drawer, pulling something out and into his pocket before closing it. With a quick once-over on me, he says, “Nah. She’s all yours.”
My mouth opens, but the words die in my throat when he turns, walking out, making me feel alone in a crowded room.
25
Saint
I’ve been pacing the floors of Theory’s bathroom for almost an hour, trying to outrun the dark clouds in my head before the sky opens up.
“In like a balloon.” I squeeze my eyes shut, sucking in a long, hard breath, then exhale it slowly. “Out through a straw.”
I continue this way, using the technique as one last ditch effort to rid the images forever haunting me.
Doc McStuffins T-Shirt.
Matching doll.
Pink skirt.
