Page 17 of P.S. I Hate You

“I know who you are.” That wipes the smile from my face, but his dimples only deepen. “I’m sorry. That came off creepy, didn’t it?”

“A little.”

“My father is big on investments, although he never did care much for cryptocurrency,” he says with a wink.

I offer a tight-lipped grin. “I should get going.”

“Wait.” A pink hue grows on his cheeks as he slides his fingers through his sandy hair just as I did a moment ago. “If you ever want to see Texas through the eyes of a local, I’ll be around.”

“I’ll think about that. Thanks.” The tingling starts at my neck and slicks down to the tips of my fingers. Troy is definitely cute,but I’m not interested in dating right now. My main goal is to finish high school and get out of this hellhole as unscathed as humanly possible, not fall for the pretty blond boy who clearly already has a stake in the game. Besides, for all I know, it’s just another trick. Maybe he’s heard of me, or maybe Jace told him about me in another attempt to build me up then break me down.

If I’ve learned anything during my first days in Hell’s Bend, it’s that trust is yet another luxury I simply cannot afford.

***

The house is dark, save for a single light over the stove. Jace flips the switch and huddles into the cold cavern of the fridge before stepping back with two beers. When he silently offers one to me, I hesitate to take it. “Go ahead. You earned it.”

“Thanks,” I say, accepting his supposed peace offering. Wishful thinking, I know, but hopefully, tonight turned a corner for Jace and me. Maybe he realized I’m not as easily shaken as he thought. Perhaps he’ll begin treating me with a little respect.

I pop the bottle cap and watch the fizz dance from the mouth before bringing it to my lips. Cold and crisp, it slides down my throat like an elixir from the gods themselves. I’ve never been a drinker, especially not beer, but something about this frosty brew is refreshing on the tongue.

Jace falls into a chair, letting his long legs sprawl wide in front of him. Blood trickles from his brow. He wipes it with his fingertips, then stares down as if he’s surprised to see it. “Oh shit.”

I wet a paper towel and press it against his skin. He winces. His eyes flutter closed, but he doesn’t push me away. Instead, he sits still and allows me to gently swab the wound until the bleeding subsides.

“How long have you been fighting?”

“A couple of years now. Jimbo’s real nice. He lets me work off my trainin’ fees.”

“It seems to me that you’re making him more money than he saves you. The place was packed.”

He grins. “Maybe so. But it’s good exposure.”

“I think this is gonna need a bandage.”

He looks up at me through thick black lashes, his fingers closing around my wrist. Goose bumps prickle my skin. The hair on my neck rises the way it did the day I first saw him. From this angle, he looks less hard, less angry. The light glimmers above, casting a glow over his brilliant blue eyes. They draw me in like a moth to a flame.

“I think I’ll live.” His husky whisper slithers down my spine and swirls at my tailbone. Being alone in this house with a man I despise—a man who makes me feel things I don’t want to be feeling—is dangerous. I should walk away and close myself in my room, but the heat in the kitchen is a tether twirling around us. I can’t seem to tear myself away.

An alert chimes on my phone. I whip toward the sound, my gaze narrowing as if it’s a personal attack. But it knocks the sense back into my muddled brain. A momentary flash of friendliness and I’m a millisecond from lowering myself onto his lap.Get a grip, Ellie.This is still the asshole who doused me with water and made me bike to school. The one who provoked the entire student body to bully me to the point of tears, then laughed at my pain. This is a mistake.

I back up and chuck the towel in the trash before tapping the notification. A friend request highlights the screen:Troy McNamara.

My audible gasp piques Jace’s attention. He leans in, his gaze going hard as it drops to the screen. The air between us turns cold. A shift in the atmosphere crumbles our newfoundfriendship to dust as quickly as it started. “I’m going to bed,” he grumbles.

“Wait.”

He stops at the threshold but keeps his back to me. “We’re not friends. We made a bet, and it’s over. Now we can go back to staying the hell away from each other.”

And just like that, the flicker of our friendship has been snuffed out. But for a moment, I saw a shard of the man he’s hiding from sight. The humbled Jace who makes polite conversation over a beer like a real person. I don’t understand why he’s bubbling to the brim with all this anger, but I’m hard pressed to believe it’s because of me. Something deeper is hidden inside Jace Wilder. I just need to find out what it is.

Chapter six

The house rumbles as I pad into the kitchen, a rhythmicthwap-thwap, thwap-thwapcoming from Jace’s room. I stop for a moment, my face pinched. What the hell is he doing in there? For all I know, he’s murdering someone. Probably best not to get involved.

But the sound beats against my brain. I prepare myself a cup of coffee and join Cindy on the porch. “Good morning,” she chimes.

I settle into the wooden rocker beside her. “Jace taking down walls or what?” I lift my steaming mug and blow away the heat before sucking a tentative sip through my teeth. Saturdays used to start with rich French roasted espresso and delicate Italian biscotti. If I were home, I’d be getting ready to meet my friends for Starbucks and shopping. Instead, I’m sitting on a giant splinter, drinking this hot bean water passed off as coffee. The commercials lie. Folgers in my cup isnotthe best part of waking up.


Tags: Jane Anthony Romance