Page 110 of Rule the Night
I’d been hurt when I’d left Cassie’s Cuppa. Hurt and humiliated. Poe was working in his studio, but I hadn’t bothered to say hello even though I was usually curious about his piece and how it was coming along.
My anger had been slowly building. Now I was fuming.
Remy lifted his eyebrows. “You okay, killer?”
“Stop calling me that,” I snapped.
He furrowed his brow. “Want to talk about it?”
I measured milk and poured it into the saucepan, then turned on the burner. “No.”
There was nothing to say.
He hesitated for a long moment, like he wasn’t sure what to do. “Okay, well I’m here if you change your mind.”
I tried to focus on my custard when he left the room but a storm was raging in my mind.
How dare Bram?How dare he?
He’d watch Poe fuck me, watch me give Remy a blow job, but he was going to pretend like he didn’t know me in front of the redhead at Cassie’s Cuppa?
Fuck. Him.
I’d been putting up with his shit for over two months, and I was done with a capital D.
No pun intended.
I whisked the milk, then started cracking eggs into a mixing bowl. Remy had been right: I’d broken two of the eggs when I’d slammed them onto the counter, but it didn’t matter. They had to be broken for the custard anyway.
I replayed the scene in the coffee shop, whisking furiously as I remembered Bram’s face when he’d walked by, the way he hadn’t seemed to know me.
Or even see me.
I was horrified when tears sprang to my eyes. Why was I crying overBramof all people?
I stopped whisking to swipe the tears from my cheeks with the back of my hand. I’d beaten him home, which meant he’d stopped somewhere else after the coffee shop, but I wasn’t willing to risk the possibility that he’d come home and see me crying.
He didn’t deserve to see me crying. And also, I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction, because I was pretty sure he was fucked-up enough to be happy that he’d hurt me.
I peered into the saucepan and saw the tiny bubbles around the edges that said the milk was about to boil. I turned off the heat and removed the pan from the burner.
I whisked the egg mixture into the milk slowly, making sure the heat of the milk wasn’t cooking the egg, and for a blissful minute I wasn’t thinking about Bram.
I thought you hated him.
I was surprised to hear June’s voice in my head.What’s it to you? And what are you doing here?
She didn’t usually talk to me while I was cooking.
Just making sure you’re okay, M.
I’m fine.I finished whisking and dropped the bowl loudly into the sink.This is all your fault you know.
You’re blaming me for being dead?She sounded amused.
Yes. If you hadn’t died, none of this would be happening.
I’m sorry, M.
