I shifted, fingers digging into my thighs. “Sure didn’t seem like you liked it.”
She laughed, a broken sound. “I liked it. That’s the problem. I didn’t want it to stop.”
I couldn’t take it. I turned toward her, so close now I could taste the heat coming off her skin. I reached up, thumb grazing her jaw, just to see if she’d flinch.
She didn’t.
She tilted her face up, eyes on my mouth. “Why are you like this?” she whispered.
“I don’t know.” My voice was shredded. “You fuck me up.”
Her hand found my wrist, squeezing just enough to ground me. “I hate it.”
“I do too.”
She licked her lips. “So…what, then? Just keep pretending?”
“If we didn’t pretend, I’d probably ruin you.”
Her laugh was like breaking glass. “Too late.”
I leaned in, helpless, aiming for her mouth. But footsteps pounded down the hall and I jerked back, pulse wild, hands falling to my lap like I’d been caught stealing.
She scooted away. Gone.
Sabrina bustled in with bowls, giving us a look. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah,” Amelia said, voice paper-thin.
She stood, stiff and deliberate, and thanked them for dinner. At the door, she didn’t look back.
I sat on the couch, insides scraping raw, watching her silhouettevanish in the porch light. I let the fire in my chest burn, contained, furious, starving.
I didn’t follow. But I wanted to.
Fuck, I wanted to.
It wasn’t normal anymore, not for me. All I could think was how close I’d been to losing control, not in violence, but in wanting.
That was the most dangerous kind of losing control.
Possessive thoughts kept licking up inside my skull like fire.
If anyone else touched her like I did, I’d break something.
I hated myself for it.
I hated my father for building this in me. Rage as love. Control as safety. Possession as proof. I hated Amelia for making me want what I didn’t deserve. And I hated myself most of all because the hate didn’t erase the truth.
It only fed it.
Wanting her wasn’t a sweet feeling. It was a slow, consuming violence and I was losing the fight to keep it caged.
THE PRESENT
AMELIA
Today was the day of the wedding, and instead of joy, my heart ached.
