Page 73 of Devious Obsession
Sometimes, monsters are about people.
Sometimes, monsters try to do what’s best for their blood.
“Yes,” he confirms. “Because I can’t save your mother, and she’d want me to look out for you.”
I shiver. Deep down, I know that my uncle cares more about my mother than he’d ever admit to himself—or her. It’s more than a brotherly love. It’s soul deep. And it makes my chest ache, because I’ll be damned if I ever find myself in that position. Forced to watch the man I love endure a marathon of abuse and trauma andstillnot choose me. Or maybe… maybe Mom just can’t choose him because of who he is.
Does she look at Uncle and see my dad?
“Don’t go pouting, darlin’.” Uncle sighs. “It’s just a fact of life.”
The waitress delivers our food, and we don’t bother divvying up the plates. We have our forks and we attack everything. My hunger comes back with a roar, and I can see the relief in my uncle’s eyes that I’m not so scarred as to have lost my appetite.
What Steele did to me was… terrible. Hard. Hurtful. But he wouldn’t know about my past, about my limits, because we never talked about it. And foolishly, I made it seem like I was all sunshine and rainbows. There’s some desperate part of me that wants him to know these things, and for him to understand that just because I couldn’t handlethat, doesn’t mean I won’t handlehim.
Fuck.
When did I start wanting to handle him at all?
Because he can make me come with his tongue and doesn’t seem put off by my curves—in fact, he might argue that they’re a plus—and he’s so fucking possessive, it actually makes me smile.
“Aspen?”
I crane around and find Thalia coming down the aisle. She slips into the booth with me and throws her arms around my shoulders.
A lump forms in my throat.
“I’m okay,” I assure her. I hug her back. “How’d you know—”
“Cillian texted.” Her cheeks pinken. “He suggested that I come join you.”
I raise my eyebrow at my uncle. It’s unlike him—to put it nicely—to invite an outsider to join us. Not that I don’t trust Thalia, because I do. I just haven’t told her my dad’s side of the family history, including what my uncle does for work. Plus, she’s calling him by his first name? Not many people getthathonor. Everyone has always called him Monroe.
“Well, I’m glad you’re here,” I tell her.
The waitress comes by to clear some plates. There’s enough food left for Thalia, and she picks at some of the pancakes smothered in syrup. The waitress brings more coffee for Uncle, plus another mug for Thalia.
I sit back, angling in the corner to see both of them.
“I’m sorry for worrying you,” I say to Thalia. And really, to both of them.
Her brows furrow. “You’re sorry? For Steele literally kidnapping you out of our apartment and holding you hostage? That’s not your fault, Asp. Like—that’s bordering on criminal—”
“One could say itiscriminal,” Uncle interjects with a frown. “Were you free to leave?”
I bite my lip and shake my head.
His jaw tics again. “Give me one reason, Aspen.”
One reason not to go back and murder him? I reach across the table and grab his hand. I pull it toward me so I can put both my hands on his. His fingers curl, our palms pressing together. His hands are calloused, rough from work. The opposite of mine.
I’ve hardly done anything with my life, except play the freaking piano.
“Because I’m not…” I shake my head. “It’s just our thing.”
“Your thing,” Thalia repeats.
“We push at each other.” I eye my uncle, careful to word this in a way that won’t send him flying off the handle. “We like to hurt. But usually with limits.”
