Page 130 of Jig's Last Dance

“I am too, that I ever fucking saw you in that damn bathroom. That I drank the shit Jig gave me. That I went back, knowing my brother hated him.”

She looks down at her feet, and I glance away.

I know this shit was barreling down on me anyway. I can’t blame them for it all, but Jig’s actions hurt more than I’m willing to admit, despite the fucking circumstances.

It’s created a monster in me, and the monster wants to be fucking free.

“Look, I get it. He lost something. An eye for an eye. But it’s over now. He’s dead. What more is there to say?” I mutter.

“He’s lost,” she says simply.

“Yeah, well, so am I. Doesn’t mean I’m gonna walk back into that nightmare. For all I know, he’s still gunning for me.”

“He was never gunning for you, Alice. Even if that’s what he convinced himself. Jig doesn’t have it in him.”

“Oh, really? Then how did I end up in his bed after drinking spiked whiskey?” I mumble, rubbing my forehead.

“Bad life choices?” she says dryly.

Giving her a look, I step away from the wall. “I don’t know what you’re saying. All I know is that he tricked me into believing something that wasn’t real. And now I’m dealing with the fallout.”

“Wasn’t it though?” she asks softly.

“Hey,” Jig says coolly, and I turn to study him.

He looks better. Fully healed and fucking hot. But I can’t bear to see him, so I move to go around until he grabs me by the waist and leans into my face. “Where you off to, sunshine?”

He doesn’t look all that torn up about me. In fact, his eyes are so icy, I could make ice cream.

Whatever. Now that I’m here, the hurt bubbles over like a toxic tide, and I can’t hold it back despite my desperation to silently say goodbye.

“Back off,” I hiss, and his brows slam over his nose.

“I don’t think so. We have unfinished business.”

“We have nothing to say to each other.” I poke him in the chest for good measure, and he grabs my hand, folding it against his heart. The heat feels good against my tingling fingers, but I push it aside and allow the rage I’ve been suppressing to flow through me.

Yes, my brother did something horrendous, but this fucker used me in the worst possible way. Wrenching away, I lean in until our lips are almost touching and say, “I’m not interested in your games. Go find some other bitch to fuck over.”

He smirks, licking my bottom lip, and I gasp as he says, “Is that right? I think you’re wet for me right now. Shall I check?”

I scoff, slamming my hands on my hips. He may be right, but my heart also feels brittle in my fucking chest. “I think you’re scum. I think you’re worse than fucking Iris. You with your hate and self-righteousness. Go fuck yourself.”

I step around him again, and this time he doesn’t stop me. Escaping inside, I wince at the competing sounds of hundreds of video games assaulting my ears.

A headache is brewing. I need to regroup and make a beeline for the bathroom before locking myself in a stall.

“Shit,” I say, rubbing my aching sternum. I wish for so many things, but of them all, it’s that Jig was truly someone I could turn to.

With him gone, the world is an empty place, and I’m clinging to a ledge with nothing to break my fall should I go over.

“Let me in.” Someone taps on the door, and I mutter, “Occupied.”

But whoever’s on the other side doesn’t care, and when she taps again, I open the door.

“What?” I say, falling back as Iris steps inside and closes the door before leaning against it.

Incredulous, I say, “What do you want?”

---