Page 45 of The Guilty One

I hate him.

I hate him.

I hate him.

How could he do this to me? Didn’t he love me? Isn’t he hurting, too?

And our children! How could he do this to our boys? The boys who look up to him and love him more than anyone on this planet?

When did we stop crying like this? Throwing ourselves on beds like petulant teenagers and letting out our rage? Dropping to the ground whenever the world got to be too much and just having a tantrum? I’m surprised by how good it makes me feel to release this pain without fear of judgment.

When I finally stop crying, my sobs turning silent and muscles aching from exertion, I hear a soft vibration from across the room. I sit up, rubbing my eyes with the backs of my hands as I listen closely.

I stand up from the ground and cross the room, grab my purse from the coffee table, and pull out my phone. I’m sure it’s Mom checking in. For all I know, they didn’t actually leave and have instead sat out in the driveway and listened to my entire meltdown.

But when I spot the words on the screen—Unknown Caller—my heart sinks. I don’t want to do this again. I don’t want to deal with whatever sick prank this is.

I answer the phone, but I don’t say a word. Two can play this game. I just sit and let the seconds tick by, only the sound of my breathing filling the line.

Then, two words.

I swear my heart stops.

“Happy anniversary.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

TATUM

Highland University

Twelve Years Ago

These assholes thought I was bluffing when I came back to campus, but they were wrong. See if I care about spending Christmas away from all their bullshit.

Mom will pick me. She will. She just needs a few days to come to her senses, and then she’ll be begging me to come back. They’re going to learn their place.

I jog across campus, bag in hand, and head for my dorm. I could’ve easily stayed at my parents’ house while attending Highland, but I wanted the full college experience. I didn’t want my mom breathing down my neck about every little thing. Besides, I wanted my foster brothers close by. I wanted to make sure they knew they were never going to escape me, not really.

When I spot her walking across campus, her arms are loaded with books, her dark hair pulled back in a low ponytail. I have the sudden urge to wrap it around my fist and tug. The idea warms something deep in my stomach, and I jog after her, keeping back a fair distance until I can tell where she’s going.

I watch her slip into her office, warmth and possibilities spreading through me. Once she’s inside, I step in and shut the door behind me.

She spins around at the sound, obviously startled to see me. Her eyes flash wide, then shoot to the door as she takes a step back. “Mr. Thompson, I don’t have office hours until after break. You’ll have to come back.”

“I’m not here for office hours,” I say, stalking toward her. “I’m here for you.” I step forward until we’re just inches apart and reach my hand out, twirling a piece of loose hair near her ear around my finger.

She jerks back, swatting my hand away. “Excuse me? That’s completely inappropriate. Do not touch me.”

I lower my face to her ear, my breath tickling her skin, and she freezes. “I like it when you’re feisty.”

Snapping back to reality, she steps away again, huffing a breath. “As I said, I’m afraid you’ll have to leave.”

“Aww, come on, now. I’ve seen you naked. Don’t you think we should even the score? It’s only fair.”

Her pretty cheeks flush pink, and she scowls at me. “Please, go, Mr. Thompson. This is inappropriate. I’ll have to report it to the dean if you don’t leave.”

“I specialize in inappropriate, Professor. Haven’t you heard?” I wiggle my brows at her, then turn and lean over her desk, blocking her in. “The dean is away for the break. Would you rather spank me instead? I like a little corporal punishment now and then. Just like I like when you call me Mr. Thompson.” One corner of my lips tugs upward. “So formal. I’d like it even more if you were on your knees.”