Okay, now I feel alittlesorry for Patrick. He thinks I’m a good man.
God fucking dammit. So, Ryan can never come to this college. Not that I was planning on that, yet, but it takes it out of play as an option, and you never know when you might need a pivot. My frown’s not just for show anymore. I have a new problem on top of six other problems.
“I understand you have a role at this school, Patrick, but I think I need to be alone.”
Because I’d hate to run my fist through his throat. This is not the time for Patrick to follow the rules. If he wants to be a real friend to me, he needs to learn how to—at the very least—sidestep the rules. Overlook things. He’s too law-abiding for my friendship needs.
“Yeah, that’s fair. I’ll uh … I’ll be going.” Did his lip just tremble? Is he about to cry?Fuck.But I don’t have time for him. I’d better go check on my brother before he vacates campus.
The grass crunches under my sneakers as I make my way to the English department. My hand slides into my pocket to toy with the wedding ring I keep there. It’s not his heartbeat, but sometimes I just need to touch something that brings me closer to him, I guess?
Isn’t that fucking irony for you—the man who can’t be touched needs touch.
Something else in my pocket vibrates. I pull out my phone.Dick Weasel.That’s Clarence. I change his name depending on what era we’re in for him. He’s definitely in his dick weasel era. It’s just a text, which isn’t his usual style. His mission in life is to get revenge and ruin me, blah, blah, fucking, blah. But he also loves taunting me if he thinks he’s got something.
Spoiler alert: he never does. But it’s endless entertainment for me. He’s so bad at villainy. He reminds me of a kid that’s been introduced to fire for the first time. Poking at it. Tossing in full cans of pop to watch them explode.
Dick Weasel
Does Henry Savage know you married his son?
My blood freezes. Well, that’s not fucking funny. Or entertaining. Has he been taking lessons? I would have thought he’s picked up something from Uncle Jasper, but this is the first hint of talent in that arena.
It’s a carefully worded message that says two things. He knows I’m married. He knows the marriage is supposed to be a secret. But is this a real threat? Or is he taunting me as per usual? Fuck, is he going to use this to interfere with Luke’s inheritance? Or is this to force my hand to retrieve the inheritance?
This is already outside of his MO.
Arrogance will get you killed, Uncle Jasper’s voice echoes in my head. I can admit it; I’ve been arrogant when it comes to Clarence. But it was so much fucking fun. It was fine when it was just me, but I have a husband to protect now. I have to get Luke his inheritance fucking yesterday, so I can kill Clarence.
Shame. Killing isn’t my favorite. Not because I don’t enjoy it, but because the game ends. I’d rather play. But, like every game, the time to declare a winner comes. Only my games don’t end with a winner; they end with death.
Just what I love—chaotic scrambling. Everything was on track again, but motherfucking Clarence fucked that up. Now, I’m going to have to reveal my marriage to Luke. I don’t know what Clarence plans to do with that information but getting Luke his inheritance did a massive leapfrog to the top of my priorities list. Second only to keeping Ryan safe. That will forever be my first priority, now.
Okay, don’t charge in like a bull, Tate. Breathe.
I take a second down the hall from Luke’s office. If anyone saw me right now, they’d think I was having a panic attack. I’m not. I’m so fucking not. But I do check the stream of textmessages from my angry husband one more time. I need the rage they give me.
Since his slutty jersey pictures—there were so many more after the first one—he’s tried to get my attention with all kinds of shit that ratchets the ever-present boiling rage. Maybe it’s time I give him that attention.
No. No, you fucking can’t.
But I could fuck him back into submission. Own him. Mark him. Claim him all over again. Show him he should fear me. Yes. Best idea I’ve had yet. That will fix everything.
As if he can hear me thinking about him, I get a text.
Dollface
Did I ever tell you about the time I had a threesome? Husband and wife combo. God, she had nice tits. His cock was ass-wrecking big.
Me
I hope those skull emojis signal my level of murder, so he’ll fucking stop it. Know what? We need at least seven more skull emojis. I type them in and send!
Remember what I said about extra shitty? Here it is. Because it’s a maze we got lost in together, but there’s no way out. As much as I want to fucking let what he did go—because believe me, I’d sure love some of Ethan’s indifference right now—I physically cannot.
Just thinking about it …
My body shakes.
