Page 129 of Trailer Trash

The question is low but holds something I haven’t heard in his voice. It sends a violent shiver down my spine. I have nothing to be ashamed of, though.

I inhale deeply and stand firm. “You threw me away, Killian. Who cares what happened afterward?”

He glares. Frozen.

“How could you fuck him after me?” he says. “Am I that forgettable, or are you just that big of a—?”

“A what? A whore?” I say, my voice anguished and broken.

He stares, waiting.

It’s almost like he cares. I’m letting him fool me all over again. I refuse to feel guilty after how he’s treated me. In fact, screw him for trying to make me feel worse than I already do.

“Okay, Killian,” I say flatly. “You want to know what I did? Fine. I’ll tell you, and I won’t lie.”

I lift my chin and square my shoulders, unashamed and determined to accept our places in this world.

“I got on my knees. I sucked his cock. And he came down my throat. That what you want to hear?”

He draws in a sharp breath as if I just speared him through the heart.

What an asshole. I scoff in disbelief, mad at myself for once again believing this man actually gives a shit about me.

“And you know what? It meant nothing. It was just sex. That’s what you’ve been trying to teach me. I get it now. What you and I did in your condo was just sex, too.”

He hasn’t moved a millimeter. His lips are parted, and his gaze unblinking.

I shift uncomfortably, but remind myself this is his doing. Not mine.

The energy in the room shifts, dark and dangerous.

“Tell me you’re fucking lying, Harlow.”

“It’s true,” I mumble.

“Goddamn it. You’re lying,” he says louder, his voice strained.

“I’m not. I don’t know how you found out about the four thousand dollars, but guess what? Evan paid me. Now I can pay my tuition.” I force a bitter laugh, soft and defeated. “I am trailer trash. Congratulations, Killian. You were right. I forgot where I belong.”

I turn to fetch my bag and get the hell out of here, feeling slightly better that I finally owned my truth and abandoned this fantasy I belong in these walls — that I belong next to him.

Just then—

His hand clamps over my forearm, tight and painful. My gaze darts up. His face is shadowed with simmering rage.

“You did this for tuition? You fucking bitch.”

His tone makes the hairs prickle on the back of my neck.

I furrow my brow, completely confused. I lift my chin to hide my fear, but I don’t feel nearly as sure of myself as moments before.

“Everything I’ve done...” he says, low and dark.

That’s when I see it.

I get tunnel vision. Because he sniffs twice and wipes his nose. His eye twitches. His tongue slides over his top gum. All subtle acts, but together, they’re glaringly obvious.

No.