I don’t know whattheirfucking excuse was, but mine was all for a lie.
The rage building in my chest isn’t directed at Haven anymore. It’s hot and black and aimed squarely at the person who’s been pulling my strings like I’m his personal puppet.
Years of rage. Years of cruelty. All for a lie.
I want to wake Haven up and beg her to forgive me. I want to go back in time and never look at that fucking photo he sent me.
Instead, I just lie here in the dark, listening to my best friend breathe, wondering how many of Ezra’s lies I’ve swallowed whole.
…he showed me his scars, told me who gave them to him…
My heart gives a hard thump, stomach filling with lead.
What else did Ezra tell Rooke?
What else does our professor know about my life?
I fist my hands, cracking my knuckles as I stare up at the ceiling.
Beside me, Haven lets out a quiet, “Mm…” like she’s wondering the same thing as me.
Chapter 60
Haven
My foot bumps against Kai’s leg, causing a sudden dull ache from my wound that forces me awake. Which prompts a desperate signal from a very full bladder.
I might have been able to ignore the pain long enough to fall asleep. Might even have convinced my bladder it can hold another pint or two.
But then the thoughts roll in, and I’m doomed.
First and foremost, that fucking photo.
It swirls around in my head like a scene from a low-budget horror movie. That Kai could have thought it was real is fucking hilarious. I’d still be laughing if I wasn’t devastated.
How could he think it was me?
Does he think I went off the rails after our disastrous meeting on my sweet sixteen? That I turned into some super whore who fucked anyone with a dick who glanced my way?
Ugh.
Now I really need to pee.
Judging from the light pouring in through Kai’s dorm room window, the sun is already up. Should I chance sneaking through the hall and hope no one sees me?
I struggle to sit up because of the heavy arm draped over my hip. Kai is so fast asleep that sliding it off me doesn’t even wake him up.
My lips twitch into a smile as I study him.
His hair’s disheveled, face slack with sleep.
How the fuck can he look so gorgeous when he’s busy drooling all over his pillow?
With another ache from my bladder, I’m not left with much of a choice. Well, there’s Kai’s waste paper basket, and a potted ficus that already looks like it’s given up on life, but I have enough to fill up my car’s gas tank, and I’m not risking it overflowing either container.
Yawning, I gingerly extract myself from bed, forcing down the urge toaccidentallykick him. Because thenI’dbe the asshole.
I still can’t believe he carried me all the way back here last night…without complaining. Bet he thinks I owe him like a hundred blow jobs to make up for it.
