Page 129 of The Way I Hate Him
I bite the corner of my lip as I realize he’s right. How can I possibly help if I’m struggling with who I should be. I’ve lost so much in the last couple of months—my sister, my school, my tool of a boyfriend...my purpose. I might need to take a second to breathe.
I might need to take a second away from everything, even Hayes, so I can truly find some inner peace.
“Thank you, Ryland.”
“No need to thank me. That’s what big brothers are for.” He stands from his chair. “Now, let’s go check out that room.”
“Why don’t you take it?” I say. “I can take the couch.”
He shakes his head. “I can’t stomach it. But I know it’s something that might help you, being close to Cassidy again. Who knows, maybe you might find what you need in there.”
He tugs me to my feet, and together, we walk into the house.
ChapterFifteen
HAYES
I strum my guitar as I lie against the couch in my living room, surrounded by the piles Hattie made and a bottle of tequila next to my propped-up foot on the coffee table.
It’s been one of those days.
Yesterday was . . . well, it was something else.
Ryland has one hell of a fucking right hook, and today, I’m feeling the effects of it. Abel did a house call last night, checking in to make sure I didn’t need any stitches or anything like that. He just told me to ice my whole face and then went on his way.
We didn’t talk about what happened exactly.
We didn’t even talk that much at all, and I know it’s because he’s trying to stay out of it. I don’t blame him. If I was in his shoes, I’d be the same way.
I lost control yesterday. The minute I saw Hattie get pushed into the dresser, I saw red, and I unleashed. Ryland was my punching bag and we both took full advantage of the opportunity, all of that pent-up anger between us, all of the miscommunication, the years of not talking, it all was brought out at that moment. I’m not sure what would have happened if Abel hadn’t stepped in, but when I felt Hattie drape herself across me to get me to stop, I immediately regretted it all.
And the look on her face, the scared look, it’s been on replay in my head ever since.
I thought about texting her, about apologizing again, but I figured there was a reason she hadn’t reached out to communicate with me, and it was probably because she didn’t want to see me after seeing the monster I became. After the information I withheld from her.
Which has led me to drinking alone in my goddamn house while mindlessly strumming my guitar and writing down everything I like about her in my notepad.
Her freckles.
Her mesmerizing eyes.
Her strong will.
Her temper.
Her patience.
Her ability to see right through me, to my very soul.
Her fucking lips . . .
Jesus Christ, those lips.
I knew the moment she kissed me, I was supposed to pull away, but nothing would stop me from at least tasting her. She was tentative and nervous, but the moment I reciprocated the kiss, she gained confidence and rocked my goddamn world.
It was soft, tender, and irresistible. I didn’t want to part from her, but I didn’t want to take advantage. She was drunk, and I knew the kiss had to end because she wasn’t of sound mind.
And yesterday morning, when I woke up with her still in my arms, I had a moment of euphoria before it was all flipped upside down.
