Page 129 of The Wicked

I couldn’t stop thinking about it and him. Which was very fucking inconvenient because I didn’t need this. It wasn’t just that I was attracted to him, I cared. As much as I loved to deny it, I fucking cared. This wasn’t predetermined. It just happened, and I hated it, and him.

I’d have loved to think that it was centered chiefly towards guilt, but it wasn’t; because I panicked—when he asked me to wait behind, my heart jumped because I was hoping he wouldn’t remember—I didn’t want to talk about it. I should have known he would address it because he didn’t seem like a man who would shy away from something like that.

This man was exactly like the people I had fought tooth and nail to escape from. He had hurt a teenager, for God’s sake, tried to drown me, shot and tortured me. He’d threatened to kill me more times than I could count, and yet,yetI couldn’t help but be drawn to him. I didn’t want to overthink it or give itimportance, but the look on his face when I’d written it all off as nothing…

I groaned in annoyance, snapping my eyes back open and staring at the ceiling for a second too long before my gaze settled on the door.

The knocking continued, and I took off my headphones, sighing.

“It’s open,” I called out, sitting up as the door opened an inch. Upper was peeking in like I would jump off the bed and attack him if he so much as breathed the same air as me.

“What do you want?” I asked him, taking off my headphones.

“I just…” He fumbled. “I wanted to—” He stood upright, swallowing. “Can we talk?” he asked, unable to shield the nervousness in his voice.

I hesitated, locked my jaw, but nodded all the same.

He walked in cautiously, closed the door, and settled a few inches away from me on the mattress, his movement gentle as he watched me. “Hey,” he started.

“Hey,” I responded, watching him struggle with what to say next.

His dark brown hair was rough, and circles were underneath his eyes; even his infamous one pair of earrings was missing, and his neck chains were gone too; it was weird seeing him so… bare. He looked so stressed.

“Listen, Zahra, I know… I know my apology would mean shit to you—”

“Actually, I’d take an apology,” I told him honestly.

His eyes went wide, even though they were filled with uncertainty. “You’re serious?”

I nodded. “You both fucked up, and the least either of you could have done was to actually apologize for treating me like the damn fool in all this.”

His lips parted, and he shifted closer to me, eyes pleading. “I promise you; it was not my intention. I swear on my life and everything I hold dear that I never wanted to hurt you with thisrevelation. The first time it happened, I—I wanted to tell you, but I was scared that this whole thing would happen, and now that it is happening, I feel like a pound of bloody arseholish-shit, and I, I amsosorry, Zahra.”

I blinked at him, shocked a little by the sincerity in his words, but what surprised me more was how his accent had gone more profound; he sounded almost elegant, even with the—weird curse word.

“What the fuck is a pound of bloody arseholish-shit?”

He breathed out a laugh, and I joined in with a chuckle.

He looked down, but before he did, I caught the glassy haze in his eyes, and when he sniffed, I shifted closer to him.

“Hey,” I called, trying to catch his gaze.

He shook and raised his head, sucking in a shaky breath as he wiped off his tears and forced out a laugh. “Sorry, I know this is not—this is not the Upper version of myself.” He swallowed, refusing to meet my gaze as he mumbled, “Whoever the fuck that is.”

My heart melted there and then, and I couldn’t believe I was slightly mad at him.

“Upper—”

“I promise I’m not some crybaby.”

“I happen to love crybabies,” I said, ruffling his already-ruffled hair. His teary eyes met mine, and he smiled sheepishly at me.

“I’m usually not a mess like this…” he said, looking down again. “It’s just—this whole thing has dredged up awful memories from before, and the last thing I want is to be the reason why a family like ours gets separated. I always fuck things up for people I care about, and my biggest fear is… is doing that to Street.”

I wanted to ask what he was talking about because it seemed to really be bothering him. “You’re not fucking up anything.”

He shook his head. “No, I am. Look at us. I know it’s just been a day, but—we’ve never gone this long being hostile witheach other, and it’s all because I couldn’t stop myself from feeling.”