“We need to talk,” I tell her the second she walks in the door.
It’s well past midnight. I grit my teeth, trying to keep the accusation about the hour from poisoning the well before we even start.
She kicks her shoes off frustrated. “About what?” she asks, avoiding my eyes.
“Can you just sit down for a second?”
She drops her bag on the floor. “Jax, I’ve had the longest day. I just want to go to bed.”
“Look, I didn’t know what the fuck was happening at first,” I start, the words scraping out of my throat. “Then I did, and I let it happen.”
“I got that already,” she snaps. “You said so ten times.”
“No, you don’t fucking get it,” I step closer, getting in her space, forcing her to look at me. “When you tried to say something… I shut you up. When you tried to move… I held you there. I watched it all happen to you. And I didn’t do a goddamn thing to stop it because some sick part of me thought you were getting off on it.”
“Jax, I…” she starts, then stops, shaking her head like she’s trying to physically dislodge the memory. “You’re not wrong. It was so fucked up, but… shit, how do I say this… I… it’s fine, okay?”
“So why are you still pissed?” I ask, because I’m a fucking idiot.
“Why am I pissed?” She drags both hands through her hair. “Oh, let me see…”
She starts pacing. “Is it the fact that your little snip-snip was a complete waste of time?” she shoots back, her voice getting louder. “Or the fact that your grandfather thinks the fucking tar is going to make you knock someone up anyway?”
I stay quiet. I’ve got this coming.
“I guess whether that heir comes from me or not isn’t really an important factor anymore, right?” Her voice cracks on the last word, and it hits me unexpectedly.
“Sisk—”
“Or maybe,” she keeps going, her voice climbing, “it’s the fact that the only way we’re fucking anymore is if the tar decides to crawl into me instead of you?”
Her hands fly up in frustration.
“Or maybe—maybe—it’s the fact that any hope I had of dealing with the drugs in this city is completely out the window.”
She laughs again. “Stupid me, right? Thinking I could actually fix something.”
Her pacing gets faster, more frantic. “Oh! And then there’s Millie.”
My head lifts. “What about Millie?”
“I found her passed out on the steps tonight.”
“What?”
“Steps,” she repeats, pointing a finger at the door. “Outside her building.”
“Is she okay?”
“Well, I got her up and that shitbag Yutrey opened the door like it’s no big deal. He told her to get inside and then shut the door in my face.”
I get up then sit back down.
“And yes,” she adds, turning back to me, her eyes burning, “even with all this shit…”
She points a finger at my chest, nail digging in like a pin. “What pushed me over the edge is the fact that your precious ex is downstairs, drinking like she’s just waiting to see if she gets to play with your new piercings.”
I blink.
