Page 22 of Bittersweet Revenge (Sins of the Father #1)

Dean

S omething is wrong with Tiernan.

It’s Friday, the fourth night I’ve been staying at his house, but I can tell something is off with him today.

He’s even more of an asshole than usual.

More importantly, there’s this sharp note of danger in the air.

He’s got this quiet, calculating, disconnected edge to him that’s pissing me off.

I’m still not sure how I feel about Cillian, but he has it too, in a more low-key way than Tiernan.

Rory is in and out, even more energetic than usual.

And Aislin is quiet. It doesn’t take a fucking genius to realize something is going on and I’m the only one who isn’t in on it.

I’m used to not fitting in, to not being part of a group—any group—but it’s different this time, making that deep, black pit inside me grow, the one that so often tries to pull me in deeper.

I’ve lived a lot of my life there, bathing in that anger, but now that’s not all that’s there.

It’s hurt too, which does nothing but piss me off more.

Do I think any of them actually give a shit about me?

That they wouldn’t stab me in the back the first chance they get, or even worse, that they won’t just drop me because I really don’t matter to them?

I’d be fucking stupid to believe any of that, and I hate myself for giving a shit at all.

The house is full of people because for a reason I don’t understand, Tiernan decided today was the perfect day to throw a party. I’ve hardly seen him all night. I’ll catch glimpses here and there, and each time he’s carrying a cup I know he’s filling with beer.

My ass has been planted on the same couch cushion most of the night, cup in hand that I haven’t touched while I watch the party go on around me—dancing, laughing, kissing, and lines of coke being snorted off the coffee table.

I figure them selling drugs is a big reason for this evening. It’s annoying to me. Parties, this many people, have never been my thing. I only did it the first night to get close to Tiernan.

Tiernan, whom I’ve been naked with three nights in a row, but who is ignoring me tonight.

Nah, that shit’s not gonna fly with me.

I stand, set my cup down, and push through the crowd to find him.

He’s not in the living room, dining room, or the kitchen.

With each step I take, the anger in me intensifies, my spine straight, my muscles tense.

Is he with someone? Because if that motherfucker wants me to be his, he better not be touching anyone else right now.

I try his office, but like always, the door is locked. I’ve never even been inside it. He’s locked himself in there with Cillian more than once, each time annoying me more and more.

I’ve been practicing picking locks since I was six.

It’s something Mom insisted I learn how to do.

She was so tired of this lifestyle after what it took from her, but there were still things she instilled in me, like learning how to fight, partly because she wanted me to be able to take care of myself, but partly, I think, because maybe it had become more ingrained in her than she wanted to believe.

Maybe it’s in our blood and there’s nothing we can do about it. That’s the way it feels for me.

I take a step down the hallway and toward the bathroom, hoping there’s something in there I can use to pick the lock, when I hear laughter coming from the media room. I recognize it immediately, making a riot ignite in my gut.

He can laugh with whoever the fuck is in there yet not say a word to me all night?

I shove open the door, and Tiernan doesn’t even bother looking up. There are about ten people with him, the large screen in front of the room not on. Cillian is there, of course. He’s always fucking there, this goddamned shadow who does anything Tiernan wants.

Two girls are dancing with each other, both in their bras, sensually moving together, their lips teasing, then touching, kissing, then pulling away.

It’s dusty with smoke—two bongs being passed around—one girl and one guy on either side of Tiernan, both too fucking close for comfort.

I recognize desire when I see it, and they both want him, are both hoping to have him.

“If it isn’t the fucking new kid,” Cillian says before putting one of the bongs to his mouth and inhaling. “Like an annoying fly that never goes away.”

“Eat shit,” I tell him. “Better than a fucking puppy following around at Tiernan’s heels.”

“Fuck you.” He shoves to his feet but only makes it two steps before Tiernan speaks.

“Cil. Sit the fuck down and dust that bowl.” Cillian curses but does as Tiernan says.

And then finally, for the first time in what feels like an eternity, I’m pinned under Tiernan’s piercing green stare. “What do you want? We’re busy.”

The guy beside him laughs, making red flash before my eyes.

Ignoring Tiernan, I walk over, not stopping until I’m standing in front of the muscled jock who has no fucking clue who he’s messing with. “Get up.”

“Fuck off.” He chuckles again, looking away as if he doesn’t care to give me the time of day.

He doesn’t realize I’m grabbing the front of his shirt until it’s too late.

I jerk him to his feet, and before he can make sense of what’s happening, I punch him in the face, my body too buzzed with adrenaline to feel any pain.

He shoves me away, lip bleeding, but seconds later, I’m in his face again.

The girls gasp. Cillian scrambles to his feet, but Tiernan doesn’t move from his spot on the couch, just…watching.

I don’t hit the motherfucker again, but stand right in front of him, smelling blood mixed with pot and alcohol. He’s breathing heavily but staying still, apparently unsure what to do. “Now you can get out,” I tell him.

He takes a step back. He’s bigger than me, taller and broader, but he must sense the rage pouring off me. “Who the fuck are you? Tiernan—”

“You heard the man.” Tiernan shrugs, lights the weed, then puts the bong to his mouth.

“Fuck you.” The jock shoves past me, storming out of the room. I collapse beside Tiernan, leg pressed against his.

Tiernan nudges me, so I turn to look at him, can read what he wants, so I lean in, mouth open, so fucking close to his as he exhales smoke. I breathe it in, feel the burn in my lungs.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Cillian says.

The girl on the other side of Tiernan scoots away.

Still, he doesn’t talk to me as we all smoke. The bras come off the girls dancing together. They pull Cillian’s attention as one of the girls palms the other one’s breasts. The party within the party are all doing their own thing, when I feel Tiernan’s gaze on me.

“You’re being a dick,” I tell him.

“I’m always a dick.”

“Next time I’ll hit him more than once.”

“Am I supposed to care about him?” He shrugs. “It’s all a fucking game, Dean. Learn to play it. You throw the chess pieces across the room instead of strategically moving them. You’ll never win that way. Get some fucking control.” He moves gracefully yet powerfully to his feet, then walks out.

When I look over, Cillian is between the women, sucking on the tits of the one with dark braids in her hair. He gives me a smile around her nipple, one that says he thinks I’m an idiot, which he probably enjoys since I don’t think he likes me very much.

I shake my head and leave too. I don’t join the party, instead making my way to the stairs.

“You can’t go up there,” this guy I don’t recognize says.

“Yes. I can.” I shove past him, and he doesn’t try to stop me. It’s quieter up here, a light shining beneath Aislin’s closed door.

I knock, and a moment later she pulls it open an inch, peeking through. “Oh, hey.” She lets me in.

“You’re not partying?”

“No. I’m not ready for that after what happened at the bar. If I hadn’t been drinking…”

“It wasn’t your fault. It’s never your fault. You should be able to drink without asshole predators trying to take advantage of you.”

“I know. I’m just…so angry. I try to hide it, and I want my life back. Nothing even happened to me, but it could have.”

“Something happened to you. Your trust was betrayed.”

Her gaze softens, like my words are getting in. “Yeah, I…I guess you’re right. When this is over, I’ll feel better. We’ll deal with it and—”

I frown. “Deal with it how?”

Her mouth stretches into a small o, her pupils expanding as she realizes what she said. “Nothing. I just meant when I deal with my shit.”

“That’s not what you said. You—”

“Let it go, Dean.”

“No. You said—”

“Let it go.” Her voice is softer when she says, “Please,” and it tugs on something inside my chest that I didn’t even know was there. She’s upset enough, been through enough. I don’t want to be the one to hurt her. If there’s anyone in this house who truly gives a shit about me, it’s her.

“Fine. I’m going to bed.” I turn for the door, but her words stop me.

“Do you want to stay? I mean, not in a way that will make my brother rage against the world…or in a way that you wouldn’t like since you’re not into girls, but…”

But she doesn’t want to be alone. I can see that now. Aislin is so fucking strong, but like the rest of us, she puts on a brave face. We all have secrets. None of us are exactly who we say we are, exactly who those on the outside see.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll stay.” I take off my shoes, and we walk over to her bed. Both of us lie on top of the covers, looking at the ceiling. “Your brother is being an asshole.”

“Is that supposed to be something new?”

“More than usual.”

“He’ll be better soon. Like I told you before, he has a lot of pressure on him—more than you’d ever know. He’s always trying to take care of a million things at once, and none of them are ever for him…well, except maybe you.”

I roll my eyes. “He doesn’t give a fuck about me.” Still, my heart is pounding. The ache that always lives in my chest lightens.

“Yes, he does. He probably doesn’t get it yet, just like you don’t, but I see it. Cil sees it.”

I have no words, so I don’t reply. What she’s saying can’t be real. There’s no fucking way…but I want it to be. Fuck Tiernan…because I want it to be.

“Sorry for asking you to stay, but…I don’t remember if I told you, when I was scared or uncomfortable as a kid, I would always sleep with Tiernan.

Even when we were little, I always knew he would never let anything happen to me.

And now…I can’t explain it, but I kinda feel that way about you too.

Maybe because you saw what Mike tried to do to me that night. ”

Her words are a rope, thrown into that pit I live in, a life preserver, trying to pull me back up. “I’m not a hero.”

“Heroes are overrated. Give me someone who’s real, someone who will do whatever they have to do—good or bad—and I’ll take that over a hero any day of the week.”

“Go to sleep,” I say, hoping that ends this conversation. If not, I might get pulled out higher, out of those shadows. I don’t know who the fuck I’ll be if that happens.

“You’ll stay.”

“Yeah.”

She closes her eyes and drifts off, not seeming to care that the lights are on.