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Things We Left Behind (Knockemout, #3)(96)

Author:Lucy Score

He caught me just as my hand closed around the doorknob and planted his palm against the door, holding it shut.

“Back off, Lucian,” I hissed without turning around.

“Why are you so angry?” he asked.

I whirled around to face him. “You’re kidding me, right?”

“Sloane,” he said almost gently.

“I’m angry because he hurt you and your mother. He ruined you. And he gets to just, what? Escape it all? Peacefully?”

Oh, for fuck’s sake. One hot, angry tear spilled over and carved a path down my face.

He took me by the shoulders. “Don’t you dare shed a single tear over him.”

“Don’t you dare tell me how to feel about this.”

“He didn’t ruin me,” he insisted. “I didn’t let him stop me from building this life.”

“Lucian, what life?” My voice cracked.

“I have more money and power than—”

“You have things. You have millions of dollars and acquaintances in high places. You work every waking hour of the day. But none of that made you happy. You rescued the family name so it would never be associated with him, and that’s great, but that name ends with you. You got a vasectomy because he made you believe you were damaged.”

His beautiful face turned to stone. “Not everyone gets to be happy, Sloane.”

“See? That right there.” I shoved a finger in his face. “He ruined you. He ruined us.”

For a second, Lucian looked shell-shocked. He looked as if I’d hit him. And then the mask slid into place again. He released me and took a step back.

But now that I’d gotten started, I couldn’t stop. I closed the distance between us and said the words I’d been choking on since I was fifteen. “He took a sweet, smart, beautiful boy and made him feel broken. And I will never forgive him for that.”

“He didn’t ruin me. I am who I am in spite of him.”

“No. You’re who you are to spite him,” I countered. “Every time you make a choice based on what he would or wouldn’t do, you’re still giving him the power. He’s still ruining you. First from prison and now from the grave.”

Lucian didn’t look happy about my astute assessment. He looked downright pissed. His jaw worked under his pristinely trimmed beard. “Think what you will. But one thing he didn’t do was ruin us. You did that on your own.”

I sucked in a breath and absorbed the punch of his words.

“I apologized for that. I was sixteen.”

“And how old are you now? Because once again, you didn’t trust me to handle my business. You couldn’t be trusted then, and you certainly can’t be trusted now.”

My head was pounding. The pretzel sat like a brick in my stomach. “You can’t forgive me for that? Well, I can’t forgive you for letting Ansel win.”

“Go the hell home, Sloane.”

“Gladly.”

I waltzed out the door and slammed it as hard as I could.

19

Mistakes Were Made

Lucian

Twenty-two years ago

Iwoke with a start, the echo of a sound ringing in my ears. I didn’t have the luxury of holding my breath and waiting to see if it was the shadows of a dream or if it was the nightmare I actually lived. I was already pulling on a pair of shorts when I heard it again. The shrill plea drowned out by the snarled accusation.

Dinner was cold.

The house was a mess.

There were muddy footprints in the garage.

Too loud.

Too quiet.

I’d looked at him wrong.

I’d been born.

There was a crash, followed immediately by a broken cry from the first floor as my bare feet hit the stairs. They were too loud for this to have just started. I’d fallen asleep.

Stupid.

I never fell asleep before he did. It wasn’t safe. I didn’t trust him. But I’d been so fucking tired. Between the last weeks of my senior year, a part-time job, and the pretense of college preparations, I crawled into bed, mine or Sloane’s, exhausted.

Mr. Walton had done so much for me.

He’d helped me apply for and get a scholarship and two grants. I wouldn’t even have to play football in college. Football had already taken a toll on my body. Football and living with my father. In public, the three of us acted out the same ridiculous farce over and over again, pretending that the darkness didn’t exist behind closed doors. That we weren’t living the same nightmare over and over again.

But no one can hide the truth forever. Especially not when it was this ugly. I wasn’t going to leave this house, not while my parents shared it.

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