How Sinners Fight - Eva Ashwood Page 0,49

Gray continues before I can finish my thought. “I promise I’ll get Sophie to leave.”

Cliff was the one Gray was talking to at the party.

My heart sinks. I don’t know whether to be pissed or feel absolutely fucking betrayed—even though I should feel neither, because I thought I’d finally convinced myself that Gray isn’t worth feeling anything about.

But this is like a silver bullet, like a torch being lit inside my body, burning like an inferno that I can’t just fucking put out with a little numbness. My hands ball into fists at my side, wanting to punch the wall, or better yet, Gray’s goddamn face.

But then Cliff mutters something under his breath about not wanting to fucking give him more time, and heavy footsteps start making their way up the stairs toward where I’m standing, eavesdropping on a conversation I shouldn’t be listening to.

Shit!

I pivot, doing my best to stay silent as I hurry toward the door to the second floor.

I push the door open and run out into the deserted hall, suddenly not caring that I’m already late for my class. I dive into a little corner and wait a few seconds, bracing for Cliff to come out of that doorway any moment. But he must have gone a flight higher, because he doesn’t show.

Good. I don’t want to see his fucking face right now.

But Gray? That’s another matter entirely.

Before I can think through whether it’s a bad idea or not, I’m shoving my way back into the stairwell and hurrying down the steps so fast it’s a miracle I don’t fall down another set of stairs. All I can think about is reaching the first floor, where Gray might still be lingering.

Just my fucking luck he is, and he’s not prepared for the shit storm he’s about to face.

I take him completely off guard where he stands, one arm braced against the wall and his head bowed.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” I shout, the anger and frustration from weeks of his bullshit finally bubbling over.

Gray starts, so taken off guard for a moment that he doesn’t have time to hide the raw emotions written all over his face. Guilt, shame, pain, and… something else. Something that makes my stomach drop like I’m on a rollercoaster.

But then, just like every other time I’ve seen him since Christmas, his face goes hard. Blank. The poetry of emotions that was on his face seconds ago vanishes like it was never there, never real.

And I hate him even more for that.

“You,” I bite out, shoving him in the chest, “are a hypocrite and an asshole and a bastard. You’re a spineless son of a bitch for standing up to Cliff last semester and then joining up with him now.” His back hits the wall under the force of my hands. I know for a fact that he’s stronger than that, and the only reason I haven’t been shoved away myself is because he’s letting me do this, but I can’t give a single fuck right now. “You yanked me around. You made me fucking care, and then you had to wreck me like this. Destroy me.”

The words that come out of me are raw, tearing from my throat like barbed wire. I don’t let anything be buried, don’t let myself hide anything, because even though I know I’ll regret it later, I want him to feel everything I’m feeling right now.

“I. Hate. You.” I enunciate each word, my body shaking with rage.

Suddenly, like lightning, Gray moves.

He doesn’t shove me away like I expect him to. Instead, he grabs my wrists in an iron hold and flips us around so fast I barely have time to react before my back slams into the concrete wall, his larger form pressing into mine, caging me in. I can feel every fucking inch of that body I know all too well.

My heart gallops in my chest, my fight-or-flight instinct rising up in a flash. I’m about to shove Gray away, to lash out with a fist or an elbow, when words burst from his throat.

“Goddammit, Sparrow! I’ve been trying to protect you!”

13

I blink, my body going slack against his tight grip.

My eyes bounce between his, searching the depths of his green irises for something, some truth, anything that tells me he’s not just fucking with me again. All I see is a sort of wild desperation, something fierce in his expression that makes adrenaline flood my body.

No. I won’t believe him. Won’t