Page 75 of Claimed By Ruin

“Don’t fucking look at me!”

He still didn’t look away, and I reacted, pushing him with all my might. He went back a step, but recovered quickly, standing on his two feet like a statue, a tower I couldn’t topple.

“Don’t fucking look at me, Jack!”

I was the one who looked away, and I couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled out of my throat. “Of course,” I said, swiping the tears that seemed to come from nowhere.

“Of course what?” he said, his voice even, nonchalant. So reasonable, I wanted to rip his arms out of the sockets and beat him to death with them.

“Don’t look at me.”

He still said nothing, and I was so enraged, I was lightheaded. He went to reach for me, his brow contorted with concern.

“And definitely don’t fucking touch me. That’s how I got into trouble in the first place.”

“Asia, I⁠—”

“Left! You left! I needed you, and you left.”

He didn’t say anything, but his eyes widened, and for the first time since I’d known him, he looked truly stunned. Not even when we saw a dead man stand up did he look shocked. He did now.

“And because I said that, I fucking hate you,” I sobbed. The tears fell furiously now, and I didn’t bother to wipe them. “I hate you,” I repeated.

I screamed the words again and again. “You did this to me. You did this. You left me.”

He didn’t do anything. I wished he would. Say he was sorry, that he didn’t have another choice, that he’d never do it again. Something.

He didn’t.

I laughed again and looked away from him. I couldn’t handle it, seeing him, which meant seeing myself.

He paused for a moment. Looked like he wanted to reach out. Then shook his head. Clearly reconsidering.

“Good fucking idea. I would not touch me if I were you.”

His eyes flared. Jack, who was always ready for a challenge, had arrived.

“I hate you,” I whispered.

He glanced at me. “You trying to convince me or yourself?”

His words were like a dart, deflating me. My knees buckled, I swayed, but somehow I managed to stay on my feet. I kept my eyes on Jack, a grotesque smile stretching my lips.

“Getting right to the heart of the matter. But what can I say? It’s true. I should hate you. It’d be easier that way. But you were just keeping your word. You never promised me anything. You didn’t owe me anything. I knew that. You know the fucked up part? I needed you, Jack. And you weren’t there. It happened. It wasn’t the first time in my life. Assuming I can continue to live, it won’t be the last time. So no, you left me. I needed you. It sucked.

“But you know what kills me? What makes it—makes me so angry I can barely breathe? I wanted you. Bad enough to need you. Bad to want you. To let you in knowing that I knew better. That’s unforgivable. Because you know what? I chose this. I did it to myself.

“And now I’m here, a baby that I don’t know how the fuck I’m going to take care of on the way. An uncle who’s dying. A maniac who wants to kill me. And I still want you. How fucking pathetic is that?”

I let myself fall to the floor on that last word. Let the tears fall. Braced myself for Jack to come to me. He didn’t. Just watched me as I sat there, a pathetic mess, crying tears that I couldn’t stop and didn’t try to. Cried until my head hurt, until I was dizzy, until I wanted to puke. And then cried some more. I don’t know how long it was.

Didn’t actually fucking care. Jack must have sensed something. I heard him move. He took a step towards the door.

“Stay,” I whispered, my voice broken, quiet.

He was there in an instant, pulling me into his arms. “Always,” he whispered into my ear.

TWENTY-SEVEN