Of course nothing’s there.
Shit.Shit.
I plow my fist into the wall, cracking it, but the burn isn’t near enough to calm the anger rushing through my veins. How the hell could I have been so stupid? How the hell did I fall for it? An ache as sharp as an ax cuts straight through my chest, my legs suddenly unsteady.
He left. Again. Only, this time, he didn’t just abandon me.
He fucking used me.
A vibrating sound pulls my attention to my phone on the counter. I stare at the number on the screen for a long second before picking it up.
“What is it, Mac?”
“Hey, man. Just checking on your dad.”
I frown, wondering if I heard him right or if the searing anger is messing with my senses. “What?”
“Your dad. He was pretty messed up when he left last night. I wanted to make sure he got to you all right.”
Bowing my head, I exhale through my nose. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about the fight.” He pauses. “Hold up, he told me you knew. He said—”
“I don’t know shit. What happened?”
“He came looking for a fight. I tried to hook him up with a beginner—you know, someone to take it easy on him—but he insisted on the biggest guy. I offered Hammock or Ray, but he had his eyes set on Donovan from the start.”
Fucking Donovan? Even I don’t sign up for his fights. He’s dirtier than Slick.
“Did he say why he wanted Donovan?”
“Beats me, except maybe for the bigger payday. But I warned him it was a sure loss, tried talking him out of it. Like I said, he insisted. He wasn’t even surprised when he got his ass whooped though.”
I shut my eyes, trying to hear through the sudden ringing in my ears. My voice is empty when I thank Mac for checking in and hang up.
I can’t believe it.
The bastard set this up. He got beaten to shreds just so I’d break and give him cash. Either that, or he was so desperate to get ahold of big money he jumped straight for the hardest fight with nothing but dumb hope. I shake my head, running a shaky thumb along my lower lip. I know in my gut that’s not it.He wasn’t even surprised when he got his ass whooped.This was intentional.
Guess he was right after all—he does know me better than I thought.
My phone crashes into the side table, turmoil blinding me; I don’t remember throwing it until it’s out of my hand. When a choked sound works up my throat, I can’t tell if it’s a trapped scream or something worse.
What makes people like him know he can do this to me? To Mom? Do we have huge fucking signs on our foreheads saying, “use me, leave me?” Maybe “breakable” in neon lights? I work so hard, so damn hard, to build unyielding walls around myself, and he still knows exactly how to get in.
Exactly how to crush me.
It’s like I’m sixteen years old, and he’s walking away all over again ...
I tug on the door, jiggling my key, but it still won’t budge. My backpack slips off my shoulder, hammer-like raindrops sliding down my hair and through my shirt.Come on, stupid door.
My eyes shut for a guilt-stricken moment as I jam the key in harder, fingers shaking. I need a shower—as if washing the scent of perfume and sweat off my skin will make me feel better.
It never does. Nothing ever does.
Except for maybe Mom. A light flickers in my chest at the thought, and I yank the unyielding knob in frustration. She’s probably upstairs right now, sitting at the bench beside the window, waiting for me.Waiting... More guilt rises up my chest, thick and bitter. I’m the dick who left her waiting, and for what?
For nothing.
