Page 31 of I’m The Worst

“You could’ve warned me.” Eyes searing into mine, she steps closer. “You could’ve explained. But no. You just punch me in the face like a goddamn psychopath. Who the hell does that?”

Her fists shake at her sides.

I step around her and walk into the bedroom, starting to pack what matters. Weapons first. Then the rest.

“Did that make you feel big?” she presses behind me. “Hitting me?”

I slide another gun into the duffel. Spare magazines. A knife.

“Hey! I’m talking to you.” She reaches for my shoulder. My entire body locks up the second her fingers brush me.

I whirl on her so fast that she stumbles back. “You should be thanking me.” As I step closer, her chin tilts up, trying to hold my stare. “You’ll have a better shot at surviving now.”

“You’re fucking insane.”

Maybe.

I sling the bag over my shoulder. “Pack your shit. We leave in a few hours.”

She laughs. “Pack what? I don’t have anything. I don’t even know where we are. You won’t let me call anyone.”

I move past her. The thought of a long drive in close quarters with her already has my nerves on edge. Hours trapped in a truck with her breathing, her questions, her fucking presence. I’m already dreading it.

“You don’t get to make every decision, Wolff. You don’t get to control everything.” She shouts behind me.

I stop at the door, hand on the frame.

“You’re alive because of my decisions.”

She inhales sharply. “I want to call my brother. I want to hear his voice. I want⁠—”

“I don’t give a fuck what you want.”

Her mouth falls open. “You can’t just⁠—”

“You don’t get phone calls. You don’t get coddled. And you sure as hell don’t get to run your fucking mouth like you didn’t just beg a stranger to rape you and then try to kill yourself in a blizzard.”

Her face drains, then burns red. “You’re such a bastard. You are not a⁠—”

“I am not your fucking hero.” I step into her space. “I’m not your knight. I’m not here to make you feel safe. I don’t give a shit about your feelings. I’m here to keep you alive.”

She looks like she wants to throw something. Or cry. Or both.

Stepping back, I turn and walk out. “Shut your fucking mouth and stop wasting my damn time.”

I don’t care what she thinks. I don’t care if she hates me. I’m not built for being liked. I’m built for survival. And she’s still breathing. That’s enough.

Tears burn behind my eyes as I yank a heavy coat off the hook by the door and stomp outside. I need to get away from him. From everything. I slide down the wall of the porch, pulling my knees to my chest, wrapping my arms around myself for warmth.

The sun is setting, casting long, jagged shadows over the snow. I sit there, welcoming the numbness of the cold. If I stay out here long enough, maybe I won’t feel anything at all.

A small scuffle and a whimper break the silence.

I glance down to find one of the puppies pawing at my coat, his big brown eyes locked onto mine.

“Hi there.”

His tail wags, and when I reach out, he licks my fingers. I scoop him up, pressing his tiny body against my chest. He’s trembling and cold, just like me.