Vendetta (15 page)

I was sure he felt the same. And when he stopped showing up, I was confused.

Two weeks later, I was devastated because I realized that this . . . thing we had? He didn't want it anymore. And I didn't even expect I'd miss his silence.

After a month I was just pissed.

I knew we didn’t have the kind of relationship where I could expect an explanation, but I didn’t give a shit. I deserved an explanation; I needed one. After a while, I blamed myself. Essentially, I propositioned him. I was available to him anytime he wanted me. Anytime he came to me, I gave him whatever he wanted. My body, and, unknown to him, my heart.

I love Devon. I’ve always loved him, and I probably always will, for as little time as I have left to live.

And it doesn’t even matter. My love is inconsequential. It doesn’t change a thing.

In fact, it only makes everything worse.

I run my fingers through my hair, and tug on it. Devon’s leaving after what just happened speaks volumes. We might not be able to stay away from each other, but at the end of the day, it’s business as usual. The most fucked up thing about this whole mess? I keep staring at the door, willing him to come back to me, to hold me in his arms. He thinks
I’m
his weakness? He is more than my weakness.

And he holds my life in his hands, and he's going to just take it. I won't be a fool again to think this changes anything.

I wipe away the tear streaking my cheek, my eyes still fixated on the door. And then he's standing in front of me, an undecipherable look on his face. Wordlessly, Devon slips back into bed with me. He slides his arm under my neck, and pulls me into his body, spooning me from behind.

It hurts so much, melting into his embrace like everything is normal. But it's not real. And I still turn around and nuzzle his cheek, and then I let his warmth lull me to sleep.

eleven

LEIGHTON

“What a way to wake up,” I say, trying to catch my breath. I glance down at Devon who lifts his head up from between my legs. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, a cocky grin curving his lips. He kisses his way up my body, ending at my lips, and then he slumps into the bed next to me. I lie there lazily, enjoying the sated satisfied feeling you get after having an intense orgasm.

“What’s for breakfast?” I ask as I roll over to face him, propping myself on my elbow, my other hand trailing down his naked chest.

“I just had mine,” he says, chuckling.

I bite my lip, feeling a blush spread all over my face. His eyes widen in disbelief.

“Are you getting shy on me?” he asks. “Seriously? Now?”

I cover my head with the sheet, and then hear another chuckle. I can't help it; something about this whole thing feels . . . real. It was always real to me, but I feel like he’s finally with me.

“Fucking unbelievable,” he mutters, tugging at the sheet. The second I let him pull it down, he places a quick kiss on my lips. “You.” Another kiss. “Are.” And another. “Fucking.” This one, a little longer. “Unbelievable,” he finishes.

I smile against his lips when my stomach growls loudly.

“Ten minutes, okay?” he says, giving me another quick peck. I nod and then he gets up, and straightens his clothes, smiling to himself. I love seeing him like this. He almost seems . . . content.

He unlocks the door and goes out, locking it behind him.

My smile drops.

I slump back into the pillow and close my eyes. It's almost too easy to forget where I am and why I'm here.

* * * *

“Leighton.” I open my eyes just in time to see his smirk. I must have dozed off again. “I'll take that as a compliment,” he says, grinning at me.

I ignore him and eye the plastic container in his hand, and some plastic cutlery in the other. I almost want to roll my eyes, but I refrain. I can't believe he still thinks I'll stab him with a fucking fork. I slide to the edge of the bed, get up and kiss him gently on the lips. Taking the food from his hands, I walk over to the table and take off the lid. Fresh fruit salad. Not bad. I pull out the pathetic spork and dig in, if that's even the right term for eating with a spork. In the end I give up and set it aside, using my hands to eat instead, licking the sweet juice off my fingers.

Devon clears his throat, shifting on the bed, his eyes dancing between my mouth and my wet fingers.

Picking up the salad, I walk over and sit down on the bed next to him, silently offering him a strawberry. He opens his mouth and takes the fruit, licking my fingers, too. My breath hitches, and I pick up a grape and feed him once more. This time he sucks my finger into his mouth, and a moan escapes my lips.

“Eat,” he says huskily, turning his head slightly when I offer him the next piece. He stares as I bite into a piece of watermelon.

“You sticking around all day?” I ask him. I really wish he would.

His eyes still on my mouth, he replies, “I have some business to take care of. Hayley will be here with your lunch, then I’ll be back in the evening.”

I still. “Hayley is still coming here?” I gape at him, dumbfounded.

Devon purses his lips. “Leighton—”

“After what you told me? After what
she
told me? You ignored me. While I was waiting for you, pining away for you, you were out there fucking her, and you want me to sit in this room with her?” I put down the fruit salad, having lost my appetite.

“She’s the only one around here I can trust with you,” he says tightly, breaking eye contact.

“Why don't you just fucking do it, Devon? Kill me. Get it over with. I’m sure it would hurt less than having her thrown in my face all day long,” I say dramatically, moving to leave. He grabs onto my upper arm, holding me in place.

“We
just
went through this,” he grinds out. “I told you, it wasn't like—”

“Would you want to sit locked up in a room with the guy
I
was with while we were apart?” I interrupt him in a fake sweet tone. There weren't any other guys, unless you count my BOB, and even then there was only him in my head.

His fingers tighten around my arm, but he ignores my question. “There's no other choice.”

“Okay. Fine. While you’re at it, why don’t you bring in all the other women you’ve been with, too? Maybe we can bond over the size of your dick.” I shake off his hand and walk to the bathroom. I take off my shirt, which was the only item of clothing I had on, and turn on the water for the shower. I take my sweet time, knowing that when I walk out Devon will be gone.

DEVON

I find Hayley sitting on the floor in front of my room, wearing the same clothes she did the day before, all wrinkled. She looks tired, there's no glow to her cheeks like there usually is, and her blonde hair is a mess. I'm guessing she slept here, or something. Or didn't sleep at all.

I sit down next to her, not saying anything. By now, my anger has subsided. If anything, I know it was directed at the wrong person. I'm the one who fucked up; she didn't lie to Leighton.

“I'm sorry about last night,” she says. “And for everything.” She looks at me when she says the last part.

I take her hand in mine and squeeze. I'm the one who's supposed to say sorry.

“Sometimes when I look at you, I still see that thirteen-year-old boy sitting in front of my father's office.” She sighs, letting go of my hand. I get a flashback of a little blonde girl with pigtails sitting next to me, and offering me her chocolate. She looked like an angel sent from heaven when my world was falling apart. “You were so lost. I wanted to make things right for you even back then.”

“I know.” I find it hard to swallow. “It’s me who has to apologize. I used you.”

“Eh, you're not the only one to blame. I always wondered what it would be like between the two us.” She leans her head on my shoulder. “So, will you tell me what’s going on?”

“It's a long story,” I say after a couple of minutes. It's not that I don't trust her, or anything like that. I just feel like what happened between Leighton and me isn't something I want to share. Not just with her, but with anyone.

She waits another beat for me to continue. When I say nothing else, she moves to sit across from me, putting her hands on my knees. “Long enough to love her?”

I hang my head in shame.

“You've lost so much, Devon,” she finally says. “And you've said it yourself, you're almost there. You can't let her get in the way.”

My head snaps up at her words. “Hales. All my life I've worked for this. You, of all people, should know I'd never let anything get in the way of that.”

“Would you, though? Even—” She looks toward the end of the hallway, then whispers, “—even Leighton?"

I think of Leighton, last night, a year ago, all those years ago. I've hated her far longer than I've loved her. I've hated myself for wanting her, then I've hated us both for loving her. It seems everything about her is just . . . hate.

“Even her.”

* * * *

“Nice of you to join us,” Stevie says when I enter my uncle's office. Frank's eyes follow me curiously as I approach the desk and sit in one of the two empty chairs. I ignore him.

“I've had something to do.”

“Or someone,” Stevie says, laughing. I still, trying not to panic. How the fuck does he know what I did last night? Nobody saw me go to her room. We weren't even that loud, we never are. He slaps me on the shoulder like he does every time he approves of something I do. I look at Frank to find him still watching me, studying me. He drums his fingers on the table, and if I didn't know better I'd think he was nervous.

When Stevie sees my expression, which is probably guilty as hell, he laughs again. “Is that the Fletcher girl's car in the driveway? Mac’s kid?”

I relax. He thinks I was with Hayley last night. “Yeah.”

My uncle's fingers still drill the table.

“Been seein' a lot of her lately. She spend the night?”

“Yeah.” It's not a lie, technically.

“You two back together or what?” the nosey bastard asks.

Finally, I look at Stevie. “What's with the interrogation? Do you want to know about my sex life? Not getting any at home?” I ask harshly.

He lifts his hands up in a calming gesture. “Easy, boy.” Then he slaps me again on the shoulder. “Just sayin', good pick. Would be good to officially have a DA in the family.” He turns to my uncle. “Right?”

“Right,” my uncle says, but his attention is on his computer screen.

“So,” he says to me, his eyes still on the screen, “we've only lost one shipment this month. That's good.” He nods approvingly.

He might as well have patted me on the head. That's how I feel.

He glances at me quickly. “Do you know what happened out there?”

I'm about to open my mouth to tell him everything when Stevie says, “It was one of the fucking Moore men.”

Frank looks at me, asking for confirmation. “Yeah, he admitted to working for Keith. Stevie was there.”

“I expect you handled that?” This directed at me.

“He did.” Stevie answers for me again, imitating a gunshot with his fingers.

“Speaking of Keith,” Frank says, abandoning his computer. He leans his elbows on the table, connecting his palms. “Did you speak to George?”

“George, yeah,” I say. “He can arrange the meeting at one of the warehouses.”

“I don't like it,” Stevie says suddenly. We both look at him. “I don't like it,” he repeats. “It should be on their turf.”

“We don't want to start a
war
,” I tell him calmly, hoping he understands what I'm trying to say. I turn back to Frank, dismissing Stevie. “I think it's ideal. We'll say we want to discuss handing over the warehouse control. You know they’ve wanted it, ever since my parents disappeared.”

My uncle shakes his head. “I have to agree with Stevie,” he says. Stevie grins in triumph.

What the fuck?

He
is
trying to start a fucking war.

“Leave,” I tell Stevie. He looks unsure, but he doesn't move. “I said, fucking leave!” I yell at him.

Frank nods at Stevie, and only then does he get up and walk out of the room. I wait for the door to click shut.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

“Don't speak to me like that, Devon,” my uncle says, calm as ever. It pisses me off even more.

“Was that really necessary?” I point toward the door where Stevie went. “To disrespect me like that?”

“I didn't disrespect you.” He shakes his head condescendingly. “You didn't think it through. It won't work. We only get one chance. One chance, Devon.”

“So you let me think I’m the one calling the shots, when you’ve secretly been working behind my back? Are you doing this just to prove how incapable I am? Unworthy of my name?”

He just looks at me.

“Is that what you think? Fucking answer me, for once.” I slam my fist on the table. He doesn't even flinch.

“Contact George, see when the next family meeting is,” he says, as if I said nothing at all.

“Are you serious?” I ask in disbelief. I literally can't believe he's doing this. Somewhere in the back of my mind, doubt rears its ugly head.

What if it was him? If this is all a setup?

“Tell Stevie to come back in on your way out.”

Wordlessly, I get up and exit his office.

LEIGHTON

I scribble out the face on the paper, and then crumble the drawing in my hand. I try to throw it into the basket, but miss.

I suck at life
. Not for much longer, though. For some reason, this thought has me giggling hysterically, and then I stop.

I’ve been sitting on my bed brooding ever since Devon walked out. It pisses me off that I’m stuck here in this damn room while he’s out doing God knows what. There's nothing on TV. Nothing. The books on Hayley's reader annoy me at this point.

I place the pencil down gently and lie flat on my back, staring up at the ceiling, following the swirly pattern in the plaster with my finger in the air.

Stupid happy endings. I'm the living proof they don't exist. Soon to be dead proof.