Page 184 of Darling Venom
I remembered her words.
They brushed off any guilt that bounced around inside me. I intended to make my point so well, it never needed to be made again.
“I…” Leah’s head hung.
She couldn’t finish her sentence.
Imagine how Charlie felt. Silenced for nearly nine years.
Any empathy I had dried. I was admonishing Leah, but I was also condemning myself. And it was savage, and brutal, and ugly.
The only way I knew to be.
“Give your sister a break. She is ruining herself trying to please you. Stop acting like she owes you jack-shit,” I spat out. There would be no misconstruing my words. No more excuses after this. “You left a pack of cigarettes for a thirteen-year-old to touch. You left flammable shit in your trashcan. You left the lighter. You were the one who broke her fucking heart that night. It is time to take responsibility for your own actions. I’ve been in your shoes, Leah. I tried pinning the blame on my little brother for a while. And it got me exactly where it got you—fucking nowhere.”
I didn’t wait for her to respond.
There was nothing to be said.
I knew my words had reached their target, settling somewhere deep.
A tear dropped down her cheek. She hiccupped. I shook my head and turned to leave, closing the door quietly behind me.
A man stood in the hall—tall, tatted, and covered in motor oil. He stared me down but let me pass, giving me one tiny nod to let me know he’d heard everything.
“I’ll take care of Leah.” He paused. “I don’t know who the hell you are, but I do know Charlotte’s gonna hate that you went to see her sister.”
“Yep,” I muttered as I pushed past him.
I barreled down the staircase, knowing Charlie would kill me if she found out what I’d just done and not regretting a second of it.
You’re supposed to hate her.
But deep down, I knew I didn’t.
I also knew I was a hypocrite.
Because Terrence Marchetti would never get another chance from me.
I staked out Tate’s home, dumping an unholy amount of ketchup onto a leftover Petrie dish hot dog I bought from a stand earlier. I stood just around the block. Waiting.
Three hours and forty-two minutes and counting.
My head poked out past the corner.
Still no sign of Tate.
Terry had entered through the front door half an hour ago, but I needed Tate to leave before I could let myself in.
He didn’t want me to involve
his father in Darling Venom, but:
1) Tate’s hatred for Terry didn’t change the fact that Kellan worshipped his father, and:
2) I couldn’t do this without Terry’s help.
I accepted the fact soon after my meeting with Helen and developed a game plan to tackle the next round of edits.
