A Shot of Pretty Poison (Pretty Poison Trilogy #3)

by Kelsey Clayton

I’ve never understood the saying misery loves company. Whoever came up with that must have confused misery with being a vindictive bitch, because when I’m miserable, I just want to be alone. There’s no one I want near me. Nothing can make it better. Just let me lie there in the aftermath of the chaos I caused.

I deserve to be this broken.

“You really should. I could call Daddy and have a jet ready in an hour. We can be in Ibiza by tomorrow.”

“Babes, how many times do I have to tell you that every time you call him Daddy, it sounds like you’re talking about a sugar daddy?”

“The difference between him and me is that he left his family. Mine left me.”

It’s not the first time we’ve had a conversation similar to this—where she tells me that my actions and ways of coping are unhealthy. But what’s unhealthy is being put through more shit in two years than some people deal with in a damn lifetime. And if drowning all my feelings in a bottle of vodka and a few beers manages to dull the pain of that a little, then thank fuck for whoever created alcohol.

“I know. Fucking sucks. But if a shark ever bites off one of my arms and I can’t surf anymore, I’m getting a bike.”

Mali looks up with a blank expression on her face. “If you’re missing an arm, how the fuck are you going to ride a motorcycle?”

“I’m Finn. And you are?” “Someone who doesn’t have patience for stupid.”

“Oh, bullshit it’s not! Why else wouldn’t you be paying the bills? Is it drugs? Do I need to take you to rehab? Christ, it’s bad enough you’re drinking half the goddamn beer in this place. Now I have to worry about you tanking the entire fucking bar, too?”

There’s a chill to the wind as it blows against my sweatshirt, but it feels good.

“You know, for someone who fought so damn hard for that relationship, you sure knew how to fuck it up,” he tells me.

They tape this shit on there as if you’re going to go to war and it needs to stay in place, which means ripping it off is never a good time. To be quite honest, it feels like you’re ripping off a layer of skin.

“For what? For not being here when she was diagnosed, or for fucking me up so much that I was actually jealous of her death sentence?”

“Cam, he told me I made him jealous of his mother’s terminal illness.” He looks surprised but only for a second. “Well, that’s twisted. Doesn’t mean he hates you, though.”

“Right, because I tell everyone I care about that they make me want to die.”

But Mali? She has no shame. She’d sell a pair of crotchless panties to a ninety-three-year-old woman and personally show her the best position to get it on without hurting her hip.

“Ten minutes?” he asks, and I nod. “See, that’s where we differ. You only need ten minutes with me, but I needed the rest of my life with you.”

I was barely eating, hardly taking care of myself at all, and my hair was practically matted to my head, but I was a fucking master at just about every video game around.

Someone knows what we did that night, and now they’re out for blood.

“There’s a part of me that still loves you,” I say honestly. “There’s always going to be a part of me that still loves you. But right now, there’s a part of me that wants to hate you, and I’m not sure which is stronger.” She sniffles, wiping away her tears and nodding. “I get that. I do.” I get up from the table and put my fist on it. “Just do me a favor?” “Anything,” she replies, and I know she means that. “Don’t go anywhere until I figure it out.”

“So, that’s her, huh?” she asks. “The girl who made it so you don’t believe in love anymore?”

“I believe in love,” I say simply. “I just don’t believe in it with anyone but her.”

“Hayes?” “Yeah?” I already know what’s coming. “How’d they get a hold of your switchblade if it’s always in your pocket?” Bingo. “That’s what I’m trying to figure out.”

He looks at me like I’ve lost my mind. “H, there is a fucking dead animal stuck to your door. What part of that says bluffing to you?”

With HIS knife mindyou

“You think that’s going to stop them from finding you? Hayes tried switching where he was sleeping and had a dead animal hung on his door like a redneck Christmas wreath.”

“What are the chances she’s going to slaughter me and use my blood to paint her room?” I ask him. He shakes his head. “She hates the color, so I’d say slim. But I wouldn’t get too close. She bites.” “Fantastic.”

The one that got away was because of me.

The jeans she has on sit low on her hips, and the crop-top is one I’ve seen Mali wear before, but it looks so much better on Laiken. Then there’s the thin, gold choker around her neck that I would love to replace with my hand right about now.

“Pretty sure you’re not allowed up there.” My jaw falls open in disbelief. Did she really just say that? “My brother owns half of this place, and the one who owns the other half was balls deep in my pussy last night. Pretty sure that means I can do whatever the fuck I please.”

“I don’t hate you, baby,” I whisper. “I just hate that I wasn’t enough.”

“What is it about guys and thinking they know everything? I mean, are their dicks that small that they need to overcompensate so much?”

I’M STARTING TO BELIEVE that sleep is a foreign concept to me now, and caffeine is a way of life.

To anyone who drinks their coffee black, I salute you. That shit takes a special level of self-loathing.

“That’s a party foul.”

If I have gray hairs, it’s because I married half of this generation’s Thelma and Louise.

“Is it just me, or does he look like he’s constipated?” Mali jokes.

I will spend the rest of my life being incomprehensibly in love with her. And if there’s a life after this one, I’ll go to the ends of the earth to find her again, because her soul and mine are two halves of a whole. There’s no me without her.