Twisted Hate (Twisted 3)

Move! my brain screamed, but my body wouldn’t obey. I just stood there, frozen, until an iron grip closed around my arm and yanked me back onto the sidewalk a millisecond before a truck sped past, horn blaring.

Momentum took over and my face collided with Josh’s chest. It was like slamming into a brick wall. The force of the action, combined with the spike of adrenaline from my brush with death, robbed me of words and breath. All I could do was stand there, face pressed against Josh’s torso, while he engulfed me in a tight embrace.

“Are you okay?” His heart thundered beneath my cheek.

“I’m fine,” I said hoarsely, too stunned to form a better response.

I raised my head and gulped when I saw his expression. Concern lined his brow, but his eyes blazed and a vein visibly pulsed in his temple.

“Good.” His arms tightened around me until I lost my breath all over again. “Now what the hell were you thinking, walking out into the middle of the street like that?” His low voice vibrated with anger. “You almost got killed!”

“I…” I didn’t have a good answer.

What was I supposed to say? I was too caught up in memories of my shitty ex to pay attention to where I was going?

I had a feeling that wouldn’t fly.

God, if Max was the last person I thought of before I died, I would be pissed.

“I called your name twice and you didn’t even react.” The pale glow from the streetlights slashed across Josh’s face, throwing his razor-sharp cheekbones and the hard, chiseled line of his jaw into sharp relief. “What the fuck happened?”

“Nothing. I just got distracted.” Technically true. Still, my stomach twisted at what would’ve happened had Josh not been there.

“Thank you for saving me, though I’m surprised you did.” I attempted to lighten the tension blanketing the air. “I thought you’d be more liable to push me into traffic than save me from it.”

“That’s not funny.”

“It’s kind of funny.”

“Not. Funny,” Josh repeated. He bit out each word like it was a bitter pill. “Do you think death is funny? Do you think it’s fun for me to watch someone almost die?”

My smile waned. “No,” I said softly.

I had a feeling we weren’t talking about me anymore.

As an ER doctor, he worked closer with life and death than anyone else I knew. I couldn’t imagine the things he saw at the hospital, the calls he had to make and the people he couldn’t save. But he was so sarcastic and light-hearted all the time I’d never thought about how it affected him.

Josh released me and stepped back, his expression like granite.

“I’m walking you home,” he said flatly. “Who knows what trouble you’ll stumble into if I left you alone?”

We were only two blocks away, so I didn’t bother protesting. I knew when to pick my battles.

We walked in silence to my house, which was dark when we arrived. Stella was probably still at the office or at an event. Between the magazine and her blog, she basically worked two jobs.

I stepped onto the porch and fished my keys out of my bag with a shaking hand. “You’ve delivered me home safe and sound. Five stars for service, two stars for conversation,” I quipped, inserting the key into the lock. “I’d give you one star on the latter, but since you saved my life, I’m being generous.”

Perhaps I should’ve been more serious, considering Josh’s mood, but when in doubt, I defaulted to sarcasm. I couldn’t help it.

A muscle pulsed in his jaw. “Is everything a joke to you, or are you really that oblivious?” he demanded. “You got into Thayer Law, so I assume you have some awareness of the world around you. So stop with the fucking act, Red. It’s a play no one wants to see.”

My spine hardened into iron. I recognized that tone of voice. It was the same tone he’d used when he told Ava to stop being friends with me. The same one he always used when he saw me doing something he considered a bad influence, like I wasn’t good enough for him or his friends.

Sharp. Judgmental. Self-righteous.

An angry flush scalded my face.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” The front door clicked open while a hard, defensive note crept into my voice.

“It means you act all tough and unbothered when it’s just that. An act.” Josh took a step toward me. A tiny one, just enough for the tips of his shoes to kiss mine. The point of contact acted as a channel for his anger, which funneled into me and stoked the embers of indignation burning in my stomach.

“I wouldn’t care, except your recklessness doesn’t affect just you. It also affects the people around you. But you never thought about that, did you?” Dull red burned on his cheekbones. “You only think about yourself. I don’t know what the fuck happened in your past, but it doesn’t take a genius to figure you out. You’re a scared little girl who chases highs to run from your demons, never caring about the destruction you leave in your wake. Classic fucking Jules Ambrose.”

Deep, bone-rattling hurt stole the breath from my lungs and stung my eyes.

Any camaraderie Josh and I developed over the past few weeks evaporated, incinerated into ash by the firestorm of emotions whipping around us.

It wasn’t just about tonight, and it wasn’t just about us. It was about the past seven years—every insult, every sneer, every argument and frustration in our lives, even if it had nothing to do with the other. It all boiled over until a crimson haze passed before my eyes and the only thing I could focus on was how angry I was.

Instead of trying to calm down, I reveled in it.