Chapter 26 The Present #2
“Congratulations on the worst dad trophy,” she snapped, too close, breath sour on my cheek.
“Still doesn’t mean you get to run my life, Caiden.
” She was trembling, and I felt it all the way down my locked arm.
I should have let her go. Should have barked a laugh and shoved off down the trail, left her to gnaw the bark for comfort, but instead I slammed my palm harder against the trunk.
The sound was violence, split and echoing.
I was dizzy with the burn in my jaw, the urge to grab her by the nape and shake her until all the old wounds poured out.
But I didn’t.
Instead, I shoved off, shouldering past her so hard I hoped she’d snap a rib just to call my bluff. “You want to keep score, Langston?” I muttered, voice a slow venom. “You’ve got your own fucking graveyard, right? Go ahead, drag the corpses out. Let’s see who breaks first.”
She caught up, boots skidding through the mess of bracken. “You know nothing about my life. Not a goddamn thing,” she seethed, eyes digging into my side. “Just cause your daddy was a monster doesn’t mean I’m scared of you.”
I almost laughed. Almost. Instead I bared my teeth, not really a smile. “No, you just like playing martyr. Always did. Always whining, like it makes you interesting.”
She hissed. I could hear the exhaustion in it, the weak crackle beneath the rage. “At least I don’t shove people until they crumble, asshole.”
“Oh, please. You crumbled way before I even touched you.” My hands felt electric, restless. It took everything not to punch something. “You think you’re the only one who’s been chewed up? Look around, princess. Everybody’s meat out here.”
She tripped beside me, stumbled, caught herself on a branch. Her knuckles bled fresh red over old scabs. I watched, couldn’t stop. The sight of it made my chest hollow out.
I pulled ahead, needing distance, needing air. But she followed, gnawing at my heels. Always.
We kept moving, pushing through a patch of thorns that tore at her shirt. She swore, yanked the sleeve free, staggered right into my shoulder. I steadied her with a grunt, rough, not gentle, but I was already sick with the stupidity of the reflex.
Her lips twisted. “What, now you’re a gentleman?”
I shook her off, barking a dry laugh. “You’d freeze to death if I let you try standing by yourself. You’re fucking pathetic, Langston.”
“Yeah, well, better pathetic than a sadist.” She gripped her arm, cradling it like I’d actually hurt her.
The way she glared told me she hated me for seeing her hurt. I wished I could’ve told her I didn’t give a shit, but that wasn’t true. The sight gnawed at me, a dog chewing bone. I wanted to look away but couldn’t.
Instead, I stood there, jaw clenched, fists jammed into the dirty fabric of my pockets, so tight my fingers tingled. I forced the anger down – always, always forcing it down – and tried to keep my voice calm. Flat.
If I let even a crack show, she’d see what she did to me, that part I could never kill.
“You shouldn’t touch anything. You’re like glass. Break every time the wind blows.”
She shifted on her feet, hair falling in a ragged curtain, arms closing tighter around herself. “Says the guy who can’t finish a conversation without throwing something.” Her voice rasped, too raw, but she still tried to jab. Always did.
“Yeah, well, I don’t see you walking away,” I said. I didn’t want to see her win. Not even for a second. “You’d wither in five minutes out here without me, and you know it.” My words came out rough. The accusation hung like a blade.
“Better that than dying of boredom listening to you jerk yourself off about how tough you are.” Her eyes were glassy, desperate, but she still looked straight at me.
I spiked forward, crowding her space. The only way I knew how to get control. “You want tough? Try not whining every time you get a scratch. Just once.”
She shook, the shudder starting in her jaw and rippling down. “You only say that because you’re used to pain. You like it, don’t you? Makes you feel alive.”
I wanted to hit something. I’d spent years making sure I didn’t lose it.
Letting someone else have that kind of power?
No. Never again. I pushed the urge down, but it poured out my voice anyway: “You have no idea what feeling alive is. You spend your life running from shit. That’s your whole personality. ”
“And you? What are you running from?” Her voice snapped. She didn’t care about the answer. I saw it in her eyes, the way she already loaded her next insult behind her teeth.
I leaned in, shadows slicing my face, letting her see how little anything mattered. “Nothing. I take pain. I take whatever I get and keep going. Unlike you.”
She flinched, anger or maybe fear. I didn’t care. She looked up at me, eyes bright and wet like a wounded animal. “You’re just your father’s son. That’s the only thing real about you.”
Something inside me split. I grabbed her chin, not hard, just enough that she had to look up, had to really see me. No ducking. No hiding. Just her and me and the truth between our teeth.
Pretty. Even all scratched up, covered in filth and snot, she was still fucking pretty. Disgusting how I noticed. More disgusting how it twisted under my ribs, that urge to break her down and keep her standing up. Both.
Her lips parted as if she might spit in my face. “Let go.” Fingernails dug into my wrist, not enough to matter. Just enough to show she’d never stop fighting.
“Didn’t think you had any fight left.” I leaned in, just to crowd her space, let her choke on my shadow. “Feels like you’d rather die out here than admit you can’t handle a little pain.”
She glared, eyes heated and venomous, but I could see the tremor at the edge of her jaw. “You have no idea what I can handle, Caiden. You never did. You just made sure I was hurting.”
I squeezed tighter. “Don’t flatter yourself. Hurting you was just for sport.”
“Yeah?” She bit the word in half. “You always needed a punching bag, didn’t you? Like father, like son. It’s the only thing you’re good at.”
Her words landed hard, but I didn’t let her see. I twisted my mouth, bared my teeth in something that wasn’t a smile. “Keep talking about my father. See how far that gets you.”
I could feel her pulse, wild-insect flutter beneath my thumb. Adrenaline crackled between us. I wanted to shove her. Or pull her close. Maybe both.
Instead, I let go. Turned away. Pretended it didn’t matter that for a split second I was tempted to do a hell of a lot more than grab her chin.
She crumpled for half a breath, like she meant to fall. Of course she didn’t.
More walking. Her behind me, always stumbling, always catching up. I slowed, didn’t let her see. I was losing strength too. Sun blinding through the canopy, sweat dripping, gnats crawling everywhere. Hell.
“I don’t know what’s worse,” she finally muttered, “the starvation, or your attitude.”
It almost made me laugh. Almost. “You love complaining. Secretly, you’d be lost if you couldn’t bitch about me.”
That got her. She made a sound. A broken laugh, almost a sob. “Classic Caiden. Can’t even let me hate you in peace.”
“Who said I wanted peace?” My tone rose. I liked the way her jaw clenched, the way her glare boiled.
“Then what do you want?” She stopped in her tracks, goading me with the question. “You want to see me broken? Dead? Or do you just need an audience when when you go off the rails?”
Her voice knifed through the trees. I clenched my teeth, tried not to let the venom leak out, but she made it impossible.
Always did.
“I need you to shut up,” I bit out. “That’s it. That’s all I want from you.”
She barked a dead laugh, yanked her hair out of her face. “What, reality too much for you? Thought you liked watching me suffer.”
“I don’t like anything about this,” I snarled, voice low. “You think I want to be stuck out here with you? If I could trade you for a rat’s corpse I’d do it in a heartbeat.”
She wheeled around on the trail, jaw set. “Yeah, well, you’re not exactly top of my list either.”
Good. I wanted her angry. I wanted her gnashing her teeth and throwing those looks over her shoulder, the ones that promised she’d eat my heart if she got close enough.
“You want a round of applause for being so fucking stoic?” she spat. “Acting like you’re better than suffering. You’re not.”
“Please.” I flashed her a look, all teeth. “I’m built for suffering. It’s the only thing that ever made sense.”
“If that’s the case, shut up and walk.” Her tone was flame, eating through the last of my patience.
But I did. I kept my mouth clamped, nostrils flared, pulse thrashing in my ears. She was behind me, soft panting getting harder, almost frantic. I hated how my body tuned itself to her, every stagger a ripple under my skin.
Log ahead. I stopped dead, let her slam into my back. Felt the shock of it and turned on her before I could stop myself.
“You ever pay attention, or are you just programmed to crash into shit?”
She shoved me, reckless. Her fingertips dug in, left crescents on my upper arm. “At least I don’t storm through life like I’m on a kill mission. You ever try being a human, Caiden?”
Low blow. My chest went tight, a spike of old, familiar rage. I leaned in, crowding her, breath hot against her cheek. “Tried it once. Didn’t like it.”
Her jaw flexed. “Figures. Humanity’s too soft for you. You’d rather stomp around like a pissed-off gorilla.”
Cute. She thought she was clever. I braced my wrist against the tree and blocked her in, just to watch her squirm. I wanted to bite back, to snap something that would shut her up for five seconds.
Instead, I leaned in closer, crowding her until I could practically taste her spit and panic.
“You know what else I don’t like?” My voice dropped, flat as old blood. “Wasting my time arguing with you. If you’d shut your mouth and use your legs, we’d be out of here already.”