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“What?” I breathe, my voice low and confused.
He shakes his head, his bearded jaw tensing. He points an accusatory finger at me, his lip curling. “You’re not fine.” His accent is heavy with his irritation, but I understand him clearly enough.
My mouth goes dry as he takes me in, his gaze all too knowing.
I know what he sees. The borrowed black clothes, the same as last night. My hair is no doubt a mess, my eyes red-rimmed, worse than before from lack of sleep. How twitchy and off-kilter I feel.
But it’s what’s deeper that he sees and hates. The things I’m desperately trying to hide from everyone, including myself.
The disappointment, the loneliness, the humiliation.
Whore.
Being a hole for men to use is all she’s good for.
Use her.
Hurt her.
She likes it rough.
My eyes sting again, and I dig my nails into my thighs beneath the table. My muscles are locked up, ready to run, to hide, but I stay still, staring him down. This stranger, this man I don’t know. This man who Roman cares about, his friend.
His family, he’d said.
“Look at you,” he grunts, and I swear there’s disappointment in his voice. It shouldn’t be there. He doesn’t deserve to feel that way about me. But he does, and it leaves me gaping. “Why did you run from him?”
My eyes flit between his, my heart jack hammering in my chest. I don’t know who he’s talking about, and that makes me nauseous.
Roman or Isaac?
I can’t ask him that, though. I can’t even speak. So I say nothing.
Kon huffs a laugh and shakes his head. “Selfish.”
“Kon,” Chase starts, shooting me a wary glance. “That’s unnecessary.”
My feet bob against the ground as I war with myself. To run, or to stay? Run or stay? Run or—
“It’s necessary,” Kon snaps, his palm colliding with the table. I jump and Oli grabs my hand, squeezing it tightly. “Who will say something if not me? She needs to be held accountable for her actions. For the hurt she causes.”
I bat away a tear that sneaks through my lashes as anger replaces my confusion. Who the hell is this guy?
“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” I rasp. “No idea.”
His brows furrow as he leans back in his chair and crosses his arms over his thick chest. “Did you not make a mistake and run like a scared little girl instead of handling things like an adult? Instead of suffering the consequences of your actions as you should have? Did your choices not hurt people?”
Everything inside of me is burning, throbbing. It’s like a sickness in my chest, in my soul, and I can’t get rid of it. I can’t shake off the filth that clings to my skin. I can’t wash away the stain of my past.
Marcus.
Mama.
Isaac.
Roman.
Camming.
