Page 159 of Black Light: Cured

list, I pull up Spencer’s number. Just because I’m not there with Lila anymore doesn’t mean I can’t

check up on her and see how she’s doing. The phone rings and I feel numbness soaking in as my phone

reaches out to D.C.

“What do you want, you piece of shit?” Spencer growls into the phone, making me wince.

“Well, hello to you too.”

“Don’t you hello me. What the hell do you want?”

“I was checking up on Li—”

“Don’t you fucking dare say her name, asshole!” he shouts, cutting me off. “Do you have any idea

how much that girl has suffered because of you?”

Pain floods my system at his words as my heart starts to crack back open. Fighting back a groan of

discomfort, I make my way over to the bed and sit down. It’s exactly what I was afraid of. “But she’s

doing okay now?”

“What do you want me to say? That she’s flourishing? Thriving? Already fucking another Dom

that’s leaps and bounds better than you?”

Jealousy flares up at his words, making me see red for a moment. It doesn’t matter that I’ve given

Lila her freedom; I still don’t want to hear about her shacking up with someone else. Part of me still

craves her, still wishes she was here in my arms.

“Who’s the guy?”

Spencer sighs and remains silent for a moment. “There is no other guy, you idiot. The girl mopes

around, looking like death warmed over. She’s not good. She misses you. She won’t admit it, but I can

see the longing in her eyes when she looks over at the medical room.”

Glancing back at the mirror, I note the same pallor, the same look of defeat in my eyes. “She’s not

the only one who’s hurting, you know. What I did to Li—”

“You fucked up. Just admit that you fucked up and then fucking fix this. You made yourself

miserable, you stupid sack of shit. You’re a dumbass who fell in love and decided to walk away

without even telling her how you feel. How’s that working out for you by the way?” There’s a sneer in

his tone that makes my hackles rise, but I can’t argue with him. He’s right.

“Look. I—”

“And another thing,” he butts in, once more cutting me off. “How fucking hard is it to have a

conversation. You left a note? A fucking note? Who does that? Cowards. That’s who.”