Noxious (Anathema #1) - Yolanda Olson Page 0,46

I don’t know in a street I’m unfamiliar with.

And inside?

The man that gave me life and hasn’t thought about me since.

I get to my feet and walk back to the truck only to find Wills standing by the open driver’s side door.

“I’m driving,” I tell her, giving her a rough shove to the side.

I’m not in the mood for a game of whose dick is bigger than whose. I have my fucking destination now after God knows how many hours stuck in a truck with a bitch that hates me and another one that doesn’t even seem to know what fucking planet she’s on—now it’s my turn to finally get something good in my life and I’m not giving up driving so she can take her sweet ass time and make this longer than it needs to be.

Willa narrows her eyes at me, runs a finger along her neck to let me know that she’s still got her mind set to kill and I roll my eyes.

If she wants to fucking scuffle, I’ll engage her.

After we’ve left Arizona.

Over four hours due west and we cross into New Mexico somewhere between quiet sobs and raging thoughts.

While I know that the third wheel in the back seat is probably asleep again, I can’t help but wonder how far she thinks I’m going to take her.

There’s no way in hell I want her to meet my father—Hell, it wasn’t even any of her business why we were taking this long, miserable road trip to begin with.

But you just had to open your mouth and flap those gums, I think testily as I steal a glance at Willa.

She’s pressed against the window again, and I can’t help but wish the goddamn door would give way and she’d go tumbling out onto the gravel.

Normally, we’d be able to talk shit out, but I know that our friendship can’t be saved now, and to be quite honest, I’m not entirely sure I care anymore.

Now she knows how I really feel about her and she’ll either deal with it or fuck off out of my life.

I run a hand irritably over my face before I rest my elbow on the window frame. Even so, I wish things could be different between us.

We make a hell of a team when we’re on the same side, but it’s rare that we see eye to eye on shit these days.

And that was before I left her conscience in a dirty rest area bathroom stall.

She should have known better.

I told her over and over again that I wasn’t interested in Dexter. I’ve never even been remotely curious about switching teams, yet she persisted.

‘Just give him a chance, Aftyn! Even if you don’t want to fuck him, be nice to him once in a while! He really is a great guy!’

I know how shit works, though.

You spend too much time being nice to the wrong person and they always stab you in the back. That’s why I’ve always preferred Wills—at least she stabs me in the front.

Damn near fifteen minutes alone with my thoughts, I glance up and smile slightly when I see a sign for Albuquerque. I think that’s where that church is that she wanted to check out, so I do the one thing I can’t stand.

I swallow my fucking pride and point it out.

“Hey,” I say, reaching over and giving her thigh a nudge. She immediately smacks my hand away and shoots a dirty look at me, but I do my best to maintain my composure while I have her attention and nod toward the sign.

Albuquerque, I-40 W.

“Wanna check it out?” I ask her.

“What I want,” she begins, her tone already dripping with venom, “is to fucking get this over with so I can ditch your ass when we get back home.”

I let out a heavy sigh as I roll my eyes at the road in front of me and press down on the gas pedal.

Whatever the fuck Lakyn turns out to be like, he can’t be worse than this.

Twenty-Eight

The Masks We Wear

Daphne

Completely dysfunctional.

That's how I describe Aftyn, Willa, and their relationship. I'm not sure how these two met, but clearly they should have kept on going. The fact that they circle each other like a pair of wolves vying for the alpha spot in a pack of two just proves it. Constantly snapping and biting at each other, but neither of them willing to actually go for the throat and make a fucking move.

Instead, they turned their proverbial