Free Defying Destiny (Forsaken Sinners MC Series Book 3) by Shelly Morgan Page B

does want to talk about. If not what happened at the shop and it’s not what happened with us years ago when he took my virginity, then what?
    Closing my eyes again, I ask, “Well, what is it you do want, then?”
    He’s quiet so long, that after what feels like hours, I open my eyes again and see that he’s sitting on the swing next to me, staring right at me.
    “Why did you leave?” he asks quietly. I know what he’s referring to, but I try to delay it as long as I can.
    “Does it matter? I left and now I’m back. Let’s just leave it at that,” I say before digging my feet in the dirt to stop the swing and get up. Not waiting for him to either say something or stop me, I start walking back toward the shop, wanting to get away from Louie and desperately needing to quiet the chaos inside my head. Stopping at this park was a mistake. It made me feel . Feel everything, but mostly it made me feel the loss and heartache. And now with him here, trying to dig deep inside my head for answers I don’t want to give, I’m desperate to flee. I’m desperate to drown out the voices inside my head and the aching hole inside my chest. I think I have a bottle of something that will do the trick.
    I don’t make it even five steps before Louie grabs me by my arm and hauls me around to face him. “It just does. Now tell me. Why the fuck did you leave? Why then? Was what we did really that bad? Do you regret it that fucking much?” He’s angry now, but not as angry as I am that he won’t let it go.
    “And if I do regret it?” I say through clenched teeth.
    I don’t regret what happened, at least not in the way he may think. But since he’s bringing it up and making me dredge up all these memories—memories of not only the way he made me feel, but what happened after. How after I gave myself to him, I was left with nothing—I want to piss him off and make him think that I do. I want him to hurt like I hurt.
    He just stares at me, searching for the truth, but I won’t let him find it. I can’t, because if he knows what happened, then it makes it real. And if it’s real, then that would mean that it’s over. If it’s over, then that means I need to forget, and dammit, I can’t fucking forget it. It’s carved on my skin, it’s in my soul. It fucking haunts me while I’m sleeping and even while I’m awake.
    Finally, he speaks. “I don’t believe that. Not for one fucking second. It may have happened at the wrong time and you may want to regret it, but you don’t.”
    The way that he seems so sure, like there’s not a doubt in his mind that I don’t feel that way, makes me even angrier. How fucking dare he! He doesn’t know what I think! He doesn’t have the right to stand there and judge me or tell me how I feel.
    “You don’t know jack fucking shit! I wish that night with you never fucking happened! If it didn’t, then he’d still fucking be here! He’d still be a part of my life and the past two years of feeling worthless and like I was to blame wouldn’t have fucking happened either. I wouldn’t be standing here right now feeling like all the air in my lungs were gone. I wouldn’t feel like I died and am now living in a constant state of agony. If I would have never let you fuck me, he’d still be here! But it did fucking happen, and now he’s gone.”
    I swear, if I could shoot fire out of my mouth or lasers out of my eyes, I would have, that’s how fucking heated and pissed I am, though I’m taking it out on the wrong person. I know that—God, do I fucking know that, but it doesn’t stop me.
    “He was always my rock, my every-fucking-thing. He told me that I was better than this and to not throw my life away on any man. Not unless he deserved me. Hendrix always thought I was a good girl, and that no one would ever be worthy of me. But you know what? I’m the one who isn’t worthy and I did give it all away. I threw it all away for you. You! And because of that, I’m being punished.