“No.” She sighs. “I know who I am. I know what I am. A hole for you to fuck. It doesn’t even have to be a wet hole.”
I’m burning with rage. Frustration. Yes, even shame. There’s nothing like having a bright, unforgiving floodlight pointed at you to expose every last flaw. I’m at a loss for words. Nothing I say is going to make a difference, anyway. Such as how I wouldn’t go to the lengths I’ve gone to for a mere hole to fuck. She might think she understands how things work in my world, but if she truly had a clue, she’d know the repercussions for sheltering her might be dire. I’m sure I don’t have many friends right now.
She plotted to kill my daughter, yet she’s still alive. That alone ought to prove she means more than a fuck toy.
The more I think about it—all the examples of what I’ve done for her, the risks I’ve taken, the enemies I might have made—the deeper my rage grows until I want nothing more than to hurt her. Why is that where my impulses immediately lead? Because there’s no other way for me to vent this. Being underestimated, disregarded. Who the fuck does she think she is?
She thinks she’s the girl I roughed up last night. Little does she know that was nothing compared to what I did earlier.
Things still haven’t improved when we board the helicopter to Corium. Now I don’t care to try to make amends. In fact, it’s better this way. She might have done me a favor. I didn’t know how to tell her what’s coming once we arrive. Now, I almost look forward to it. The excuse to push her away for good, knowing she’s too pissed at me to take it personally or ask for a bunch of explanations.
There’s a reason we’re doing this at night. I sense her apprehension as we step down from the helicopter. I led her through the snow and into the school not so long ago. It feels like years. Then I had righteous anger on my side. Disgust. I wanted her to suffer. I wish I knew what I want now.
At least the halls are darkened and empty by the time we step over the threshold and into the familiar entry hall. She does her best to pretend to be brave, but I know relief when I see it. Nobody is here to witness her arrival. Nobody to threaten or blame her. I’m sure that will come later, but it’s her problem. I’ve already made the mistake of getting far too close to her. This is as good a time as any to remind her—and myself—of the way things should have gone from the beginning.
When I push the button leading to the dorm level rather than the floor where my apartment sits, she speaks for the first time since the plane. “Where are we going?”
“The dorms, of course. Where did you think?”
She stares at that lit button like it holds the answers for a moment. Her bottom lip disappearing under her teeth. “I didn’t think…”
“What? You didn’t think I’d let you stay in your own room? It’s about time you did.” We step off the elevator with me in the lead. She waits a beat as if afraid of running into anyone on this level. I can’t blame her. But it isn’t as if I would let anyone harm her in my presence. I doubt that would offer her much comfort at the moment, though.
“Come on. Your room is up here.” Roughly halfway down the hall, I use my master key to unlock the door before swinging it open and stepping inside. “You should be more than comfortable here. It’ll be an upgrade from having to share a space with me.”
I keep my tone clipped, professional while I examine the space. It’s typical of every other room—nothing more, nothing less. The notion of giving her bleak, shitty accommodations did occur to me, but I’m not a complete bastard. Besides, I allowed Aspen’s mistreatment when she first came here, and I only ended up regretting it. Some lessons I manage to learn.
Still, there is a great deal of difference between making sure she has the basics and making things too easy for her. So while the room is clean and furnished, it’s a step down from what she’s accustomed to after staying in my apartment.
One glance at her tells me that’s not what she’s concerned with. “I didn’t know I would be here alone. You didn’t tell me I wouldn’t be staying with you anymore.” Her expression is one of horror.
“What? Did you think we’d play house? My brother wasn’t kidding when he said everyone knows what happened with Brookshire. What did you think it would mean for me—and you—if word got around that I was giving you special treatment?” I continue when it looks like she’s going to protest, “No, this is the end of us, in every way. We’re never going back to the way things were. Understood?”
“So I don’t get any protection at all? You know they’re going to try to kill me. Even though it wasn’t my fault.”
I make a big deal of rolling my eyes so she knows just how tiresome this is. “Once again, this is the safest place for you. No one can touch you here.”
“No. No one can kill me here—and your brother already said it. They still got to Nash.”
The sound of my daughter’s name coming from her mouth makes me see red. Before I know it, she’s up against the door with my hand around her throat. I lean in close, snarling. “Don’t you say her name. Understood? You don’t speak of her, you don’t see her, as far as you are concerned, she doesn’t exist. Nod, so I know you understand.”
Her face is deep red, and oh, there’s so much hatred in her eyes to go with the rapid fluttering of her pulse under my fingers. Good. Let her hate me. Hate is easy, clean, and uncomplicated.
She jerks her chin in response, lifting her lip in a sneer.
And I smile. “Good. See? It isn’t so hard getting through to you.”
“You bastard.”
My smile widens. “When you’re right, you’re right.” I let go of her, and she slumps against the door, but that doesn’t last long once I’ve opened it again. It’s better this way. I have to believe it’s better this way.
Without glancing at her over my shoulder, I say, “You’re on your own.” And once I’ve closed the door, she’s no longer my problem.