Page 14 of Bittersweet Revenge (Sins of the Father #1)

Dean

I hate that I watch my phone the whole day, wondering if I’ll hear from Tiernan. Ollie comes and goes, even asks me if I want to grab lunch with him, but I make up a lie, though there’s no doubt in my mind he doesn’t believe me.

I do consider going with him. He’s what I should look for in a friend—kind, helpful, wants to make sure I’m okay.

He’s what I should be at college for—connections like him and figuring out how to be a real fucking person with real fucking friends—but what could I ever bring to the table with someone like him?

How would he feel if he knew how much hate and anger I carry?

That I’m only at Ashford to get revenge on Tiernan’s family, and that there’s nothing I won’t do to get it.

How would he feel if he knew I planned to take a man’s life before all this is over?

No, it’s better for Ollie if I keep my distance. The last thing I want is for him to get hurt in my fucked-up plans.

So I stay in my room and watch my fucking phone in a way I really shouldn’t be doing.

When my homework is complete, I’m still alone, so I pull out my sketchbook, my stupid hands drawing a neck and torso covered in bruises. Over and over, I draw different versions of Tiernan.

“Fuck.” I shove my book back under the bed. I can’t even read The Count because I let the cocky little lord take it from me.

Maybe I should have gone with Ollie. Maybe it couldn’t have hurt. I can’t help wondering what Aislin is up to either. I’ve gotten used to her texting me every day.

I shake my head and push out of bed. That kind of thinking is dangerous. It’s not as if Aislin and I are really friends.

I don’t need her.

I don’t need anyone.

I change into a T-shirt and joggers, pissed at myself that I haven’t fucking showered so Tiernan’s cum is still on my skin. Obviously, he’s not coming over, so it’s not as if he’d know, but if I’m playing this game with him, I want him to think he’s winning.

My earbuds fall to the floor when I try to grab them off the table, so I bend over and get them, pushing them into my ears as I head out for a jog.

So much of what I do has always been indoor activities—drawing, reading, lifting weights, learning everything I could about computers and programming.

When I need fresh air, it’s always been running for me.

The mid-seventies air feels different from what I’m used to in Arizona. I’ve lived in a lot of places, but I spent my teenage years there. It’s dryer in Arizona, and much warmer than here.

The trail I follow leads to running paths through the woods behind campus. The leaves are all vivid oranges and reds. Fall in Massachusetts is unbelievable. It was Mom’s favorite season. She used to tell me how much she loved the leaves, which is why she and my father got married in the fall.

I turn the music up, try to focus on the guitar riffs and the sound of drums as Pearl Jam sings about being alive. I’ve always liked older music. I can’t tell you how many times my mom said I have an old soul, just like my dad did, though the latter is not something I ever got to experience myself.

Thinking about them makes me run faster, harder, farther. Makes me keep going until my chest is too tight and my legs feel like they’re going to give out.

*

Aislin isn’t in class on Tuesday. I’ve seen her every Tuesday and Thursday during this hour since school started.

The hairs on the back of my neck prickle that she’s not here, after what happened to her on Friday night.

She hasn’t texted me either, which doesn’t help the confusing nerves making me feel like a ball of anxiety.

What if something happened to her? Tiernan wouldn’t let that happen.

He would protect her, but then, he hadn’t been the one to protect her Friday night. No. That had been me.

Nervous energy makes my leg bounce up and down through the whole class. The second it’s over and I’m outside, I pull out my cell and send her a message.

Hey…it’s Dean. Are you okay?

I roll my eyes. Obviously, it’s Dean. Would she think someone stole my phone to check on her? But it’s easier to focus on that than the fact that there’s honest worry here, which fills my chest with fire aimed at no one but myself.

Still, when my phone buzzes, I’m fumbling it to open the screen and see her reply.

I’m okay. Just haven’t been feeling well, and we have a lot going on. I’m staying with my brother. I’ll see you in class on Thursday.

The concern I felt seconds ago evaporates, and shame slithers in. Aislin isn’t my responsibility.

Like I often do after this class, I grab lunch at the café. It has nothing to do with Tiernan. I don’t even remember the last time I saw him there. But I can’t pretend I’m not curious what she meant by “we have a lot going on.” She went from I when she was talking about not feeling well, to we .

I grab a sandwich and a bottle of water, then find an empty table outside, to see what else I can dig up. I went from jogging and drawing all weekend to searching for this Mike guy. He wasn’t hard to find, especially his name—Michael Jensen—and I’m good at covering my tracks online.

My sandwich’s only half eaten when I find what I’m looking for.

He’s from a small town in Ohio, one of the good ole boys who plays football and was a town favorite.

Apparently, though, Mikey is a fucking sicko because what almost happened with Aislin isn’t a first for him.

At sixteen he raped a girl at a party. His wealthy family played hardball, bringing her past into it, that she’d been drinking and, of course, what she’d been wearing.

When they were finished with her, she was labeled the town slut, moved away, and that motherfucker was set free to try to do the same thing to Aislin.

I slam my laptop closed, harder than I should, then shove it into my backpack. My next class forgotten, I head straight for Tiernan’s house.

There are a couple of cars in front when I arrive. I knock on the door, feet shuffling, what I learned fighting to break free. I wanted this Michael to hurt before, but that’s nothing to the rage making me feel like there’s a timebomb inside me that can go off at any second.

A moment later, the door is pulled open by a messy-haired Cillian.

“Get Tiernan.”

He frowns. “Fuck off, New Kid. I don’t think you realize who you’re talking to. T might deal with it because he wants to fuck you, but I won’t.”

I roll my eyes. Jesus, they’re all cocky idiots. “I need to talk to Tiernan. It’s important.”

He crosses his arms and leans against the doorjamb. “Well, how do you know he wants to talk to you? Maybe he’s…busy with someone else right now.”

The bomb that’s lived inside me since I was four years old ticks, ticks, even closer to detonation.

“Who the fuck is he with?” falls from my mouth. He was at my dorm blowing me and asking for my number, only to ignore me and already be putting his dick somewhere else?

Why do you care? You’re not supposed to fucking care.

“Well, well, well, someone’s jealous, isn’t he?

Let me give you some advice about my cousin.

He might be interested in you now for whatever the fuck reason, but there’s nothing more to it than that.

If you’re expecting some kind of relationship with him, all that’ll happen is you’re gonna get hurt.

” He winks. “Your marks aren’t even faded on him yet, and he’s already—”

I shove into the house before I can consider the consequences. Cillian stumbles backward, almost falling. His eyes flash with a familiar anger I’m used to seeing from Tiernan and not him, before he’s got me pressed against the wall, his arm against my throat.

“Don’t fucking touch me like that again.”

“What are you gonna do about it?” I say, voice strained from the pressure of his hold. “You don’t do shit without Tiernan’s permission.”

His gaze darkens, showing me that Tiernan isn’t the only one in this house who’s dangerous, but before Cillian can do anything, Tiernan says, “Get off him, Cil.” He doesn’t move right away, his jaw tight. “Did you not hear me? Get the fuck off him.”

He pushes away, and I suck a deep breath into my lungs. Tiernan is coming from the back of the house, with a blonde girl.

“Control your fucking toy,” Cillian snaps.

“I’m not his toy, asshole. Looks like he found one already.”

“Wait. I’m not. We’re not,” the girl sputters.

“I don’t care if you are.” I push off the wall.

“You sure sound jealous to me.” Tiernan winks, then looks at the blonde. “Come on. I’ll walk you out.” I shake my head when he flashes a smile in my direction, but I notice he’s doing nothing to hide the marks I made on his neck.

He says something to her I can’t hear, then a moment later comes back inside.

“You have a good time?” I ask.

He shrugs. “You know me. I’m a sure thing.”

I roll my eyes.

“Don’t let him fool you. He was selling her coke.” Aislin walks down the stairs, wearing sweats that are too big and maybe her brother’s.

“Jesus, Ash. Why don’t you tell him all our fuckin’ business,” Cillian complains.

“It’s coke. Everyone does coke. And I trust him.” She walks over, and I freeze up when she wraps her arms around me in a hug. “Thank you.” Her voice is so soft, I can hardly hear her.

I trust him wrestles around with her thank you in my head. Air gets caught in my lungs. She shouldn’t trust me. Not at all. I’m here to destroy her entire fucking world.

“It’s fine. I said it’s fine.”

“Jesus, get off him, Ash,” Tiernan warns, walking into the living room. Aislin pulls back, both she and Cillian watching Tiernan as if they’re surprised by something.

“Why the fuck are you here?” he asks.

I follow him, Aislin and Cillian doing the same. Tiernan falls into a chair, so I set my backpack down and take a seat on the couch, Aislin beside me, Cillian standing.

My gaze shoots back and forth between Aislin and Cillian.

“You can speak in front of them,” Tiernan assures me.

I can’t help glancing at Aislin again. She cocks her head, looking at me with those green eyes so like her brother’s, the ones that always seem to be searching inside me for something. “Say it, Dean. I can handle it.”

“He’s a fucking rapist,” I spit out. “Michael Jensen.”

“How do you know his name?” Cillian asks while Tiernan goes stiff.

“Because I’m not an idiot and know how the internet works.”

“How do you know…that? The rapist part? We don’t fucking know that,” Cillian adds.

I meet his gaze. He’s never seemed angry with me before, but clearly, I stepped on his toes today and challenged him. Maybe it’s also whatever else Aislin said they’ve been dealing with.

“I guess I’m just better than you.”

“You’re lucky I typically like you.” Cillian cocks a brow at me, but it’s Tiernan who speaks up next, his voice as cold as I’ve ever heard it.

“Tell me everything you know.”