Page 100 of Resist

“You’re the one who paid me like a whore,” I sneer, and it stops him dead in his tracks.

“Exactly. And right there is why this whole thing is futile.”

We stand so close together but a world apart. Him asking for things I don’t know if I can give him. Him saying things that I don’t understand.

Me letting the hurt and my fears and my insecurities come between us, but not knowing how to stop it.

The tears threaten, but I refuse to give him the satisfaction of knowing it. I refuse to give him another piece of me when inside there are so many broken ones to give right now.

“You’re right—it is futile.”

“I’ll always be the asshole, and you’ll always be the whore, and that’s all you’ll ever see.”

I stare at him, every smart comeback I could have managed numbed by the hurt caused by his words, and nod before turning on my heel, fumbling with the lock, and bolting from the building as fast as I can. When I make it outside, the air is sharp and cold, and as soon as I turn the corner and am out of eyesight of the doorman, I hunch over, hands on my knees. My chest hurts, burns, aches, and every part of me is filled with an indescribable shame and undeniable anger . . . and irrefutable heartache.

Ryker Lockhart could have said anything to me . . . anything at all, but those words cut the deepest. Those words put me in my place and let me know where I stand with him.

Disposable.

Dispensable.

Unwanted.

Just when I was starting to believe I wasn’t.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

Vaughn

“Vaughn?” Joey’s voice is hushed, his eyes wide when he sees me at the entrance of the facility. “Are you okay?”

I shake my head and don’t care that I’m still in my work clothes or that my mascara is probably in streaks running down my cheeks or that I look like I’ve been put through the wringer—because I have. “I came as soon as I saw the texts.”

And regardless of whatever I’ve been through, Lucy takes precedence over everything. Myself. My heartache. My needs.

“You sure you’re okay?” he asks as he puts his hands on my shoulders to stop me from bolting down the hallway toward Lucy’s room. His eyes fill with concern, and the sight of it has tears welling in mine.

“It’s just been a rough night, okay?”

“Your boyfriend?”

A half-hysterical, half-desperate chuckle falls from my mouth. “I don’t have a boyfriend.” Just saying that hurts, and I run the heel of my hand against my breastbone to try to assuage a pain I know the motion can’t ease.

“The Ryker guy?”

“Something like that.”

“I’m sorry, sweetie.” Joey pulls me in for a quick, comforting hug I don’t deserve, knowing Lucy was here needing me while I was fighting with Ryker. And it’s a hug I don’t want, don’t merit, because I just need to see my Luce.

“How is she? What happened?” I whisper. The lights are dim around us, seeing as it’s well past two in the morning.

“She had a rough day. She was agitated, combative—”

“That’s not like her.”

“I know. The day counselor was Jenn—”

“She loves Jenn.”