Page 117 of Devious Obsession
I have a music class that requires a final performance. It’s what I’ve been working on since the start of the semester. Technically difficult pieces of composition that have tested me at every turn.
Yes, I could reprint them. But then I’d lose my notes, and it would be like starting over.
From scratch.
The thought of walking onstage and performing anything less than perfect is nauseating.
With sudden clarity, I know exactly who took my sheet music.
Steele.
I stand in the middle of my room and shake out my arms. I’m too hot. My skin is tight, my muscles locking up. My stomach rolls like I’m going to be sick.
When did he come in here and snatch it?
And why was Isoblinded by him that I let him?
The last thing I’m going to do is go begging for my music back. I’m not pathetic. I will not cower in front of him like I’ve done to every other imposing asshole. My mother instilled that in me. The fear. The way she thought every man was a version of my father.
So I don’t understand why she married Stephen O’Brien without hesitation.
I don’t understand how she trusted him above anyone else.
How she let my sisters live under his roof, knowing what men are capable of doing.
“I’m home,” Thalia calls, the apartment door slamming closed behind her. “Are you here?”
My eyebrows rise. Truth be told, I should’ve kept a closer eye on my roommate at the party. Should’ve kept track of her after she arrived with the rest of the dance team.
Well, didn’t Steele say he drugged me?
So maybe my friend should’ve kept better track ofme.
I hate that immediate accusation. It’s not her fault, it’s Steele’s. The guy who calls himself my boyfriend, and now apparently my keeper. I want to go out into the living room and watch her make a cup of coffee, see the rosy redness of her cheeks that might belie the kind of night she had.
But instead, I can’t move. A sharp loneliness rises, closing my throat. The echo of the counselor asking who I had resounds in my head. Besides Thalia, who else do I have to talk about what’s happening to me? What Steele is doing to me?
I hurry out of my room and into the common area, stopping short at the sight of Thalia.
On the counter.
Kissing my uncle.
For a moment, all I can do is stare. His tattooed hands are on her waist, his fingers digging into her sweatshirt. Her arms are around his neck.
I stumble backward. One step, two, and then I’m spinning and rushing back to the safety of my room. I close my door and press my back to it, covering my eyes.
Dramatic, maybe, butwhat the fuck? Is that the first time they’ve done that?
Or is it a regular thing?
Without thinking, I cross to the window and remove the bar that’s held it shut after Steele’s intrusion. I shove the glass upward and then unhook the screen. I get that out of the way, setting it against my dresser, and stick my head out.
It’s not so far a drop.
I cannot picture for one more moment the sort of debauchery that’s happening in this apartment. I thought she was with Finch! Apparently, I had it very, very wrong.
That, over everything else, drives me to swing one leg out. I straddle the windowsill and eye the drop again, then move my other leg out.
