Page 160 of Darling Venom
I’m ignoring you because I shouldn’t want you, but I do.
I grabbed a bar from the cabinet, read the expiration date, and figured I wouldn’t lose an organ over something three months too old.
“It won’t last long. I’ll finish the book soon, and I’ll be gone. Out of your hair.” She paused. “Out of your life.”
I turned, and she was there.
In my space again.
She blinked up at me, eyes lowering to the headphones looped around my neck. “Those were the prize for guessing the sex of Reagan’s twins.”
I clocked the small gap between us and the counter. I could push past her, but then I’d have to touch her.
I settled for a, “Yes.”
“But you’re her doctor. You already knew the babies’ sex.”
“Yes. But I doubt you’re here to discuss the ethics of gender-reveal participation. What do you want, Charlie?”
Don’t ask me about the scenes.
Don’t ask me about the scenes.
“I’m worried about you.” That was almost as bad as asking about the scenes.
“Really? You shouldn’t be,” I said conversationally. “I’m not your problem to worry about.”
“I shouldn’t have told you about the letter.”
“While you’re out there gatekeeping what I should and should not know about my own brother, feel free to walk through the iron bars and lock yourself out.”
“You’re spiraling, Tate.” She looked concerned. Genuinely so. If I had a heart, it’d be racing. “I barely even know you, and I can see that. Aren’t you scared to fall?”
Like Kellan did?
It was a poor choice of words, and we both knew that. I watched her wince, gears churning in her head.
“Do you take Visa?” I deadpanned. “This isn’t therapy. Lose the questions, Lottie.”
She didn’t even react to the nickname.
Guess today we were focusing on my demons and my demons only.
“The question stands.”
“My answer is the same: none of your business.”
“I’ve lost one Marchetti brother. I’ll be damned if I lose the other. You are falling, and you’re about to hit rock bottom. That organ in your chest is barely beating, pumped full of bitter blood, and fear, and regret.”
I felt very much like Terrence Marchetti’s son in that moment.
An asshole.
A mess.
Unworthy of my breaths.
I risked her touch, brushing past her on my way to the door. “This isn’t working.”
