“I don’t want to,” I admit, “but at the rate I’m going, I’ll probably wake you up screaming.”
She takes my free hand, pressing our palms together. “How do I help? When you do?”
It’s the last thing I expect her to say. For a moment, I’m speechless, struggling to find an answer. She stays quiet, breathing softly against me. “I don’t know,” I say eventually. “I don’t think you can.”
“I’ll find ways,” she decides, and a soft noise falls out of my throat. I tug her closer to me, but something’s wrong. She’s not relaxed.
I frown. “What is it?”
“What’s what?”
“You’re all tense.” I squeeze her butt. “Go soft.”
“I can’t believe you don’t think you’re bossy,” she mumbles, obediently letting her body relax against me. Happiness rumbles through me, and she laughs, petting my chest. “You’re purring.”
I bury my lips in her hair. “What’s wrong?”
She winces. “Do you think X will respond to what I said at the press event?”
“Honestly?”
“No. Please present me with your most elaborate lie.”
“Yes.” I press a kiss to her ear. “I do.”
She swears under her breath. “Badly?”
“I don’t know. But we’ll deal with it tomorrow. We’ll keep you safe, princess. ‘S’long as you let us.”
She sighs, sitting up and leaning over the edge of the bed. I watch through hooded eyes as she pats around the pile of discarded clothes on the floor, eventually pulling out her phone. She settles back down next to me, bringing up her twitter account, and starts writing a new tweet. I look over her shoulder. It’s just three words.
I’m sorry X
She publishes the tweet and drops her phone, grimacing with disgust.
“Let no one say I didn’t try,” she mumbles, curling up against me, her eyes falling closed. “It’s his move, now.”
Thirty-Two
X
It’s very easy to make a petrol bomb. Almost worryingly easy, really; any old criminal could do it.
After Briar left the press event, I was upset for a very long time. For hours, I paced up and down my cabin, crying, screaming, breaking things. Trying to decide what I should do.
It’s the middle of the night by the time I make my decision.
I drive myself to the nearest gas station to buy petrol, some cloth, and a glass bottle of pop.
I am very, very, very angry.
I admit, I’m not thinking clearly. My head is in a haze. I’m just so mad at Briar. I have worked so hard, building her a home. I have spent years sending her gifts and messages. And she’s thrown it all in my face.
Well. I’ll show her. I know where she’s staying. I think I might just pay her a visit.
As I’m checking out my shopping, I see a couple of young teenagers loitering in the candy aisle, holding hands. I stand and watch in disgust as the guy bends and kisses the girl on the lips. They start making out, right in the middle of the store.
Fury lashes through me, so strong I almost drop my shopping. Why the Hell should a fifteen-year-oldboybe able to get a girl, when I can’t? Things like this make me feel so angry I want to kill someone.
