The Vengeance You Crave by Tracy Lorraine

1

Luca

Since coming back to Maddison after the holidays, I've been out here in the dark every night.

The fury I felt when I discovered that she'd managed to slip out the back and avoid me still burns through my veins.

I'm still desperate to stand in front of her, to demand that she finally tells me the truth, finally confesses to lying but I’ve settled for watching her.

I might have only had glimpses of the woman—the girl—I gave my heart to all those years ago, but it's easy to see the differences. Starting with the hair. Peyton always had the lightest, softest, prettiest honey blonde hair.

The pink is cute, sure. She's clearly trying to make some kind of statement with it.

But it's not my Peyton.

And while I might hate her, I also crave that girl with the easy, infectious smile who could make me laugh without even trying and light up my entire day with only that smile.

Reaching up, I run my hand through my hair as I think back to those years, how easy they were.

Sure, I had pressure from Dad pressing down on me even back then. At the time I thought it was awful. I remember demanding that Mom make him take a step back, but what I didn't appreciate was that he was going easy back then. Because the years that followed, right now, is unbearable.

A part of me wishes that I wasn't any good on the field. That the first time Dad threw me a ball, I fumbled, tripped over my own feet and shattered all his dreams. Although, I can't help but wonder that if that was the case then he'd have gone out of his way to 'fix' me.

Dad's game days might have been over, but by the time Lee and I were old enough to catch a ball, he knew his dream was going to continue, just through us.

It's exhausting.

The second he discovered that I was quarterback material, he turned all his focus onto me. He wanted me to be his prodigy. Leon was still very much on his radar, but I was the one he really turned his attention to. Lee has no idea how lucky he was, how lucky he is, not being constantly told that you're not good enough, that you called the wrong play, that you made the wrong decision.

I blow out a long shaky breath, my fingers wrapping around the wheel in front of me until they hurt. I need to feel something other than the anger, the disappointment, the crushing loss of everything that's gone fucking wrong recently.

That's why I need her.

I need something that I can control. I need to feel like I can be the one making the decisions, pulling the strings, causing the pain. Because everyone has taken everything else away from me. The pressure, the failure, the lies, the cheating, the bullshit. All of it needs to end.

A roar of frustration rips up my throat, filling the silence of my car as I try to expel the growing feelings within me. I don't even know what they are. Desperation probably.

I'm drowning. Falling deeper into the darkness, and I have no idea how to claw myself back.

I remain in my car, in the darkest corner of the parking lot like I have for the past week and wait. I thought I wanted to stand before her and demand answers, but watching her and knowing she has no idea settles something inside me.

Maybe if I watch for long enough, I'll discover the truth.

I'll catch her out in a lie.

But I know that's unlikely, we haven’t seen each other in almost five years. I have no idea who the girl I once knew is now. I have no idea why she's even back here.

I've run through all the possibilities in my head. I've searched for her on social media. But I haven’t found an account in her name, let alone any answers.

For those, I need her.

My fingers twitch with the thought of reaching out and touching her. My mouth waters for all the ways I want to show her just how much her lies hurt. How badly she broke me back then before Letty turned up like a guardian fucking angel and helped me put the pieces back together.

I thought when Letty arrived at MKU it was for me. I truly fucking did.

But now I know differently.

Because all this time, I've been waiting for her, and I had no idea.

The second someone pushes the back door open casting a bright glow across the parking lot, my eyes snap toward it, praying that it's time for her to leave.

When it's not her, but a guy taking some trash out, my teeth grind in frustration.

I need her. I need my fucking fix.

I've never been addicted to anything—okay, maybe the game—but this is different. This incessant need for her, the excitement about seeing her wide, fearful eyes when I finally catch up with her. Fuck. It makes me feel more alive than I have in weeks and I fucking love it.

I've lost everything else, but this, this right now, is mine and only mine.

I have the control when I reveal myself. I have the control with what I do and what I say for when that happens. No one can take this away from me.