Page 144 of Relapse

“W-where the hell did that come from?” I stammered.

“I’m just trying to figure out how you got there, Noah.” David continued, his facial features relaxing, his grip on me loosening. “I think it’s sort of funny. I want to know why they beat you both together.”

My chest tightened.

I knew exactly where he was going with this.

“I was drunk—” I began, but he cut me off.

“No, you weren’t. The police took all of your vitals. You had a few drinks, maybe, but you were under the legal limit for alcohol.”

The truth was there, threatening to emerge. I hated it. Hated how quickly my mind betrayed me by conjuring images of Silas. Hated that my pulse picked up whenever his name entered a conversation.

And I hated that David had finally caught on. I didn’t know why, but my relationship with Silas was something I’d never wanted him to know of. A large part of me blamed him. Part of me thought if I had never been abused, then maybe I would have turned out “normal.” Normal by society’s standards meant: following the rules of the law, getting a good education, marrying a God-fearing woman, starting a family, working and providing to keep them happy. Society labeled this “The American Dream.”

I represented none of those things. I was a seeker of danger and destruction, risk and reward. Under the right circumstances, I enjoyed my own pain. And I sought out people to inflict it upon me. To hurt me so that I could feel and stay tethered to this world. And the last thing I wanted was David to know that. To think he had some hand in crafting me into this monster that I had become.

Because that would mean he won.

“Well?” he asked again.

I looked away from his cutting stare. My mind wandered back to the events of that night, and a shudder rose up through my spine.

“They were all beating him—”

“He’s a Thorne,” David interrupted once again. “Who cares?”

“Do you think I give a shit about your petty family feuds?” I curled my fists into balls until I was sure my knuckles were white. “They were killing him!”

David was silent. An eyebrow rose slightly.

I sighed, allowing my head to sink into the pillow. This was too much stress; the slow beeping of the monitor above me had increased considerably. “Leave me alone,” I muttered, shutting my eyes in hopes that David would get the hint and just go the fuck away.

I had only a few fleeting moments of quiet.

“I knew it,” David snarled lowly. “You and he have been fucking.”

I let out a resigned laugh, my head rolling to the side so that I could look directly at him.

“Why do you care? Are you jealous?”

And then suddenly, David did the last thing I thought he would.

He grinned. My stomach dropped instantly.

“No,” he said warmly. “But I know someone who might be.”

I knew who he was referring to, now. I stared at him, trying to read the rest of the trap, but his eyes were bright, almost gentle. Alarmingly so.

“Delane’s been here every day,” he said softly. “Sitting at your bed, holding your hand, crying over you like you’re something precious. Poor girl thinks you’re Superman.”

He paused for a moment, to let that sink in. Sitting there with him, in the silence of that dark room, made me feel like I wanted to scream.

“But she doesn’t know, does she? She doesn’t know that while she was falling in love with you, coming to dance around with you at our event, you were spreading your legs for Silas Thorne.”

He tilted his head, studying me. “How do you think she’d feel? Knowing she’s not enough? Knowing you need a man inside you to feel whole?”

“Shut up,” I breathed. I wished I could tell him that he was wrong about all of it. But I couldn’t. Delane was more than enough. She was the light in this burning hell I lived. But David was right about one thing: I wanted them both. I didn’t want to see myself in a world without either Silas or Delane. There was no choosing. I was consumed by them.