Page 9 of Sinister Legacy
The last thing I want to do is pretend I give a shit about his football practice, but he keeps insisting.
The newspaper rustles, and my heart does a little jump. Some call it ‘love’ when anxiety is involved—that little spike of anxious anticipation.
I call it delusion.
My clit loves this particular delusion.
“I heard the season is going well,” my mom says with a soft smile directed at Liam.
Tuning them out, I stare wide-eyed at the newspaper article before I launch myself across the table and rip it from my stepdad’s hands.
“What the…?” he blurts, looking shocked.
I flip page after page with shaky hands until I stare at the photograph of Jessica’s smiling face.
High school student murdered in a home invasion.
Liam takes it off me and scans his eyes over the text. “There are no details yet.”
“It’s too soon,” I whisper, glancing at my mom. She has grown pale, sipping her coffee to distract herself.
“What’s too soon?” Liam asks, handing the newspaper back to my stepdad.
“Details. It only happened yesterday.”
We sit in silence while Mom drinks her coffee, and my stepdad reads the paper.
“I can’t believe she’s dead,” Liam breathes out, easing back in his chair. “A home invasion? This is Blackwoods. Nothing ever happens here.”
My stepdad clears his throat, lowering the newspaper.
Liam’s eyes widen. “I mean, apart from…”
“It’s fine.” I scoot the chair back, in no mood to bring my biological father into this.
Liam follows me upstairs to my room, where I make a beeline for my bag on the desk chair. “Are you mad at me?”
I shoulder it, turning around. “Mad at you?”
“Well, you seem off.”
I blink at him. “Jessica is dead, Liam. What do you want from me? She was your friend.”
Dragging a hand down his rugged face, he breathes out a sigh. “I’m sorry. I just…” He drops his hand. “I can’t believe she’s dead.”
I stare at a spot on the wall as he walks up to me and cups my cheek.
“Whatever you feel right now is fine. With your dad—”
I cut him off with a glare. “Don’t bring him into this, Liam.”
Holding his hands up placatingly, he crowds me against the desk. His white Henley stretches tight across his shoulders, and his light-blue jeans hang low on his hips. “I’m an insensitive dick sometimes.” He lowers his hands and puts them on my waist. “I just want to make sure you’re okay.”
“We need to go to school.”
“We can take the day off if you want. No one would blame you—”
Shouldering past him, I leave my room. Jimmy Hill has held me back for as long as I can remember. I refuse to feel this affected every time something bad happens.
