I Swear I Still Hate Him (Atlas Lawson) novel Chapter 165

Chapter 165

Daisy’s POV

“I…I’m sorry,” I said, my voice coming out thin. “I just… I’m really tired.”

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I couldn’t look at Rory’s face for too long. The disappointment was already there, even if he was trying to hide it. Guilt crawled up my throat like something sour.

“Oh,” he said quietly. “Oh.”

He hesitated like he wanted to fix it, like he was searching for the right words.

“Honey, I..”

“It’s fine,” he cut in before I could. His smile showed up, but it didn’t reach his eyes. Not even close. “You should get some rest. I’m sorry.””

That made my stomach twist even more.

“Are

you mad?” I asked, softer than I meant to.

Rory blinked like the question surprised him, then he shook his head fast. “What? No. Of course not.”

He leaned in and kissed my forehead gentle and familiar, like he was the one comforting me.

“Get some rest,” he murmured.

Then he turned over and lay back down, his back facing mine. The space between us felt louder than any argument. I stared at his shoulder for a second, then rolled onto my back, eyes fixed on the ceiling like it might give me an answer for what I’d just done.

I needed to say something. Anything. Something normal.

So I swallowed and tried again.

“Thank you for the flowers,” I said quietly. “They were really pretty.”

Rory turned his head, brow furrowing. “What flowers?”

My chest tightened. “The… roses.”

He blinked, genuine confusion on his face. “I didn’t send you roses.”

The words hit me like a cold splash of water.

“Oh.” I forced a small laugh that sounded fake even to me. “Oh, yeah… it probably was Atlas.”

I leaned over quickly and kissed Rory’s cheek, soft and fast, like bandage over a wound. Then I whispered, “Good night.”

Rory nodded slowly, but he didn’t say anything. He just turned back over again.

I lay there frozen, staring at the ceiling.

Rory didn’t send the flowers.

So who did?

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15:40 Fri, Mar 6 AMO

Chapter 165

My mind flipped through possibilities, and then it landed on one name so sharply my breath caught

No.

It can’t be.

…Can it?

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Bang. Bang. Bang.

My fist slammed into the door again and again, harder each time like the wood could absorb the rage burning through me. The sound echoed down the hallway-sharp, ugly, desperate. I didn’t care who heard. I was two seconds away from knocking until the damn thing cracked.

The door yanked open.

And there he was.

Steve.

Relaxed. Shirt half-unbuttoned like he was expecting company. I didn’t even say hello. I stormed inside and let the door swing shut behind me.

“What the actual fuck is wrong with you?”

He smirked, slow and lazy, like my anger was entertainment. “Good to see you too, D.

“Don`t call me that,” I snapped, stepping closer. My finger jabbed his chest hard. Solid. Annoyingly solid. “Why did you send those roses? I told you to stay the hell away from me.”

His chest didn’t even move from the shove. He looked down at my finger like it was cute, then back up at my face.

Damn him.

Damn him for still looking like this. Like time never touched him. Like he didn’t age, he just got sharper.

Steve smiled, and it made my skin crawl. The kind of smile that said he knew exactly what he was doing.

“And to think you couldn’t get any more angry,” he murmured, almost amused. “I missed you?

My mouth opened, but no words came out.

This fucker.

“What is……..” I started, but my voice died when he took a step forward.

His eyes never left mine. He didn’t stop until my back hit the wall. Cold. Solid…

Trapped.

My breath caught. Not because I couldn’t move…I could. I could hove him. I could duck. I could leave. But my body betrayed me anyway, freezing for half a beat like it remembered him.

“Steve,” I snapped, and hated how my voice shook on the edges.

He leaned in just enough that I could feel his heat. “You missed the too, didn’t you?” he whispered.

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15:41 Fri, Mar 6 AM 0.

Chapter 163

“No,” I said quickly. “And you should be in a psych ward for everthinking that”

He smiled wider, like that only turned him on.

“Back the fuck off,” I ordered, chin lifting like I was still in contre

He didn’t move,

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Instead, his hand reached for mine, slow and deliberate, fingers rushing mine like he had all the time in the world. Like he wanted me to feel every inch of the choice I was making. His touch slid up my wrist, my forearm. My breath hitched. My heart started pounding harder, furious at my body for reacting.

“Why did you come here?” he murmured, voice low.

I tried to stay focused. Tried to cling to the anger like it was a liferaft.

“Because you pulled that dumbass flower stunt and…” My words tumbled when his fingertips skimmed my throat, light and testing, like he was checking for a pulse.

And I had to warn you to stay the hell away from me,” I finishe, voice tight.

“Bullshit,” Steve said.

“What?” I snapped.

He leaned closer, his mouth near my car, his voice turning quiet and sure. “You’ve avoided me for years. You could’ve thrown the flowers away. Burned them.” His hand settled at my ip possessive and so familiar. “But instead… you showed up.”

I hated that he was right. Because I could have ignored him. But didn’t. His finger hooked the zipper of my shirt.

My eyes flashed. “Don’t…”

He pulled it down anyway, slowly. The sound of the zipper slicing through the silence was louder than anything in that room. Too loud. Too intimate.

“I know you better than anyone, D,” he murmured, lips brushing my ear. “And I know that look in your eyes.” His voice dipped, darker. “You want me, don’t you?”

My throat tightened. My stomach twisted. Because the truth sat in my chest like a sickness.

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