Page 67 of Hell of a Mess
Those three words slammed into me, and I had to gasp to catch a breath.
Why had she called him? It was me she needed. ME!
“Why?” I asked, my own voice sounding foreign to me. Just like the onslaught of emotions I had no fucking idea how to endure.
“She felt that it was time to get to know her family. This is a good thing. For everyone.”
No, it wasn’t. Not for me.
Unable to stand in here and listen to his bullshit while her room was void of any piece of her, I stalked past him and into the hallway, not stopping as I slammed open my door and went inside.
“I expected you’d be unhappy about it, but I didn’t think you’d react this way.”
Why was he still here? I swung my gaze over to see him standing in my doorway.
“Go.”
He sighed. “Jesus, Luther. Do you have…feelings for her?” He asked the question as if he couldn’t believe the words coming out of his mouth.
Why? Because I wasn’t supposed to have any fucking feelings?Well, I hadn’t before her. But I sure as shit had them now. My skin felt too goddamn tight. Oxygen was limited.
“I said, go,” I growled.
I stalked to the bathroom and slammed the door, blocking him and anything else he might say out. I didn’t need that right now.
Not when I felt like my…my…my what? Why did I feel like this?
Because you need her.
But she left you. She doesn’t need you. No one ever fucking needs you.
I stared at myself in the mirror. My fists curled tightly at my sides.
I’d been fine, not being needed. My life had been fucking perfect.
Until she’d blown it open and changed everything.
As I pounded my fist on the hard marble countertop, the beast inside me let out a roar of fury while my eyes burned and began to glisten in my reflection.
What the actual fuck had she done to me?
Twenty-Nine
Lace
“Jayda said you liked boiled eggs and berries for breakfast.” Mal sounded uncertain.
I stared down at the plate in front of me. He’d served me this yesterday for breakfast, too, and I did my best to eat it. Swallowing was hard. It stuck in my throat, and I had ended up nibbling some. The sight of eggs and berries without the whipped topping made me think of Luther. And every time I thought of him, my mood seemed to sink more. Which was an issue because I thought of him all the time.
Mal had been so nice and welcoming. I didn’t want to seem ungrateful or rude. Trying to smile when I was supposed to and respond to his conversation attempts helped keep me from thinking of Luther constantly, but not for long. He was always there, waiting to invade.
“I do,” I assured him, although I didn’t want any food. Myappetite had left completely. After forcing two French fries and a few bites of my pizza down last night at dinner, I’d excused myself to the bathroom and thrown it up. “I’m just not very hungry this morning.”
The concern in his frown made his brows draw together.
“Are you feeling unwell?”
I shook my head. “No, I’m fine.”
