Page 69 of Darling Venom
“I threw him out tonight so we could do this.”
“Nice way to treat your father.”
“He is not my father. Just a man who screwed my mother. Not the best thing to be admired for.”
“It’s still conception.”
“It’s just fucking.”
I whistled, circling around his small living room and pretending to admire the mostly bare shelves with just a few small frames, the stock photos still inside them. “Ob-gyns don’t have the best dirty talk game in the world, huh?”
My back was to Tate when he answered me. “Bet you all the pennies in your cheap little purse that I can make you drip cum on my face in less than ten seconds—before I even use my tongue or cock.”
I swiveled around, my mouth hanging open in shock. Tate stared at me with a flat, almost disinterested look, arms crossed over his chest.
“What did you just say?”
“You said my dirty-talk game isn’t strong. You were wrong.”
“How do you know?”
Tate positioned himself behind the counter, producing two glasses. “I know because you’re wet. Orange juice okay?”
“Actually, wine would be good.” I decided to ignore his rude comment. There was no point bickering with him before we even started. “Considering I’ll have to deal with you all evening.”
He shook his head. “Threw out all the alcohol the minute Terry hauled his ass here. Water?”
“Sure.”
“Coming right up.”
We climbed upstairs with our water and stopped by a door. A roll of white trash bags, a broomstick, paper towels, and cleaning products were lined up along the wall like toy soldiers.
He turned to me.
I turned to him.
He was stalling.
I stared at the simple wooden door like it could swallow both of us into oblivion. “Do you want me to do it?”
Tate shook his head, took a deep breath, and pushed the door open. We sauntered into a dusty, messy room.
The realness of Kellan’s kingdom hit me like a punch in the gut. It looked like he was still here.
The sheets were wrinkled, the print of Kellan’s lanky body outlining the linen. Posters of Black Flag, Poison Girls, and Subhumans hung on the walls. Hundreds of books stood piled up on the floor, soaring into three twisted towers all the way to the ceiling.
This room was so Kellan.
“I miss him.” My words were barely audible, even to myself.
Tate groaned. “Should I put it all in storage?”
I shook my head. “You’re never going to use t
hese things. We need to give them away. Kellan would have liked that.”
For the next three hours, we scrubbed Kellan’s room clean and threw away seven trash bags' worth of stuff. Tate had been literal when he’d said he hadn’t touched the room in years. The trashcan under Kellan’s desk still had an empty Cheetos bag and a can of Diet Coke.
