“It’s not a good time for me,” I try to explain, and at once want to punch myself in the face.
Not a good time for me? What the fuck is wrong with me?
So much is wrong. So much. She has no idea.
If she wasn’t angry before, those words will definitely make her furious. I can’t believe I’m such a fucking idiot. Surely there must have been a better way to put that.
It’s not a good time for me, Piper, unless you want me to murder every person we cross paths with today.
Please don’t talk to me about what happened, Piper, or I might just blow myself up at a busy intersection.
Maybe some other time, Piper. Some other time when I can actually find the fuckers who hurt you and skin them alive, instead of taking out all my anger on innocent bystanders.
I don’t want to scare her. But if I hear it from her, I definitely will.
I know she’ll have to tell me about it eventually. But I can’t go into it unprepared. I’ll need to spend some time steeling myself for it first. I’ll need to make sure Liam and Dane are already bound in some basement somewhere, so I can start the torture right after.
There’s probably a better way to tell her all that other thanIt’s not a good time for me, but if there is, I can’t think of one.
I glance at her, but she’s back to staring out the window, her arms wound tightly around her.
“Piper,” I try again. “That’s not exactly what I meant.”
She nods abruptly.
“Please don’t be angry at me, cricket.”
She’s shaking her head now, just as abruptly and just as fast.
“You’re angry at me, aren’t you?” I guess.
“No,” she whispers. “Sorry.”
That word again. Why the fuck does she keep doing that?
If she really isn’t angry at me, then whatever she’s feeling must be a whole lot worse.
I don’t think I’m selfish for trying to avoid a subject that would have me go absolutely ballistic, because the truth is I’m trying to protect her from my reaction. But I can see that that explanation won’t cut it for her. I need to be strong for her, and be the person she can talk to.
She deserves that, and I will do whatever I have to to become the person she deserves.
I take a few very long, very ragged breaths to steel myself forwhat will be probably the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life.
Notfollowing through on the urge to burn down the world.
My childhood urge to kill her has nothing on this.
“Go on,” I say at last. “Tell me.”
If she wasn’t angry before, she definitely is now. She shakes her head furiously, and I realize I might have made my words sound a little too much like all of this is a chore to me.
But the strength I’ve managed to muster up is not going to last indefinitely.
“What have you been assuming that you need confirmation on?” I insist, and then it suddenly hits me.
I don’t need her to tell me. I know exactly what she’s thinking.
And it’s going to be really fucking hard not to burn down the world right now.
