Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 108988 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 545(@200wpm)___ 436(@250wpm)___ 363(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108988 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 545(@200wpm)___ 436(@250wpm)___ 363(@300wpm)
“Is this what happens whenever you enter a room?”
The room fell silent because that question was directed at me, and it was spoken in Japanese and from the roommate they barely knew.
Her face was solemn, almost serene, as she waited for my response.
I waited a second before sending back, in the same language, “This is a pleasant surprise.”
She barely reacted. “Why? You know the business my family is in. This is my first language.”
“The surprise is that you would address me in it.”
She raised an eyebrow, staring at me steadfastly. “You speak it fluently. Where did you learn?”
Learning languages came naturally to me. Almost eerily naturally. But I would never explain that I didn’t quite understand how easy learning and speaking languages were to me, or how I wondered if having an eidetic memory had anything to do with it. Both items I hadn’t even shared with Blake, who I was now ignoring as she was sending me a very searching look.
I skimmed the group and tipped my chin up to her. “Point to you.”
She raised her second eyebrow in question.
We were still conversing in her language. I said, “A fight was going to happen, but with your one comment to me, you derailed it from happening and at the same time, forced something out of me that hadn’t been known.” I chanced a look at Blake, and knew as soon as we were alone she’d be tearing into me. Blake was the one that knew the most about me. I could see that she didn’t like being in the dark.
Interestingly, Finch was calming down.
Ah. The fascination of covert maneuvers.
Because of her housemate’s question, I was now the bad guy and Marshall Finch was able to settle back into his usual role of the “good boy.” The sudden shift in dynamics helped him return to his normal place in the group, where it was comfortable. He felt a semblance of control again.
The Yakuza housemate had stewed at how I deftly used her presence in this house. I learned that most people didn’t enjoy being used. Of course, most everyone used everyone for different reasons, even simple reasons such as feeling good about themselves, but they didn’t like being told they were being used. This one was smart. She struck back how she could.
This entire conversation was a hidden fuck you to me.
I held her gaze until she began to grow uneasy. I moved my foot away from a weapon she hadn’t taken into account.
I unleashed Levi.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Blake
“Languages aside, what the fuck’s your problem?” Levi asked.
It took a beat before everyone clued in on who the question was for. Marshall scowled. “Uh. What?”
“You. What’s your problem? You’ve been a bitch for a full week. I’m sick of it. You have a problem with me, with Creight, either say your shit now or shut your trap.” Levi shifted forward, gesturing to me. “You don’t think this comes on her? You think you can have a problem, but it’s not going to bother Blake? You don’t know Blake, if you think that.”
“You know what? Fuck this.” Marshall abruptly shoved up from the couch. “We’re just going to fight if we stay here. Sorry, Palm. I tried. I really did, but I can’t sit here with this”—he motioned to where we were sitting—“trash here.”
I gulped. “Trash, huh?” I deflated.
Marshall froze. “I-I didn’t mean you, Bla—”
He meant Creighton and Levi, but I was like them. They were mine.
Levi was right. No matter what, I’d get hit in the crossfire.
I jerked a shoulder up, my appetite gone. “It’s fine. It’s not like I haven’t heard it all my life.” I shoved to my feet, too, and began to leave. I got as far as three steps before a hand tugged on the back of my hoodie, stopping me. I was breathing harshly. The hand was familiar, so I didn’t look back, just waited, and he crowded in. His heat surrounded me, his chest to my back. His voice was low as he asked, “Can I hurt him now?”
I knew Marshall hadn’t meant me. I knew it, but others had. I was trash to them. I was beneath them. My family didn’t want me. I didn’t get to have a mom and a dad. No one adopted me. No one loved me. Kids were cruel, yeah, but most of those statements were spoken by adults and never in front of Creighton.
I drew in a shuddering breath.
He had protected me since he met me, and he was still doing it. I blinked back tears.
I knew not to weaponize him. God. I really did, but he was here.
I wasn’t wanted.
I wasn’t loved.
Except Creighton did. In his way, he did.
He couldn’t love, but he was here. He was always here. At my back.
He was asking for permission to fight for me.