Resent, Reject, Regret

Chapter 567 Of Course, I Thought Too Highly of Myself

The nonchalance crushed the emotional storm he himself had created in Deirdre. Balling

her hands into fists, she willed herself to suppress the urge not to deck her hand across

Brendan’s face.

“Your conscience? After all the sins you’ve committed? After all the lives you’ve ruined?

And all you get is your wimpy conscience burning a hole in your non-existent soul!? Your

conscience is worthless!”

There was something unreadable and nebulous in Brendan’s black eyes, but he

managed to maintain his caustic tongue. “All that is in the past, McKinnon, so can you

stop yapping about it? What do you want me to do? Scrap my knees begging you for

forgiveness? Grow up.”

“Grow… up?” Deirdre could almost see black spots dancing in front of her eyes. She

could not stop herself from sneering. “I guess you’re right. I need to grow up and stop

being so naive. How could I possibly demand the great and mighty Mr. Brighthall to beg

for my forgiveness? How could I commit the sin of making his conscience slap him on

his wrist!? Oh God, of course! I thought too highly of myself!”

Brendan turned his head sideways. He could not seem to come up with even more

acerbic things to one-up her. Maybe, his fever had gotten

impeding his thoughts.

pull herself out of her

me to make? Did you dream

“Yes.” Something twinkled in his

let the conversation die. Only after a coughing fit seized Brendan,

She moved her stiffened body and took it

Passing it to him,

could enjoy his shock, she added, “Eat it and rest

enough strength to

last ounce of hope he had

He should have known this was what awaited him. His

swirling inside his skull. Something was choking

making simple conversation way

swallowed the pills, lay down, and sat up again. “Where

sit,”

“Until morning?”

She ignored him.

Brendan grabbed an unused bathrobe, put it on, and climbed out

commotion, Deirdre frowned.

“You get into the

toward his destination exactly

Then, she recovered from

and sneered. “Get back here on the bed. I’m

of *sshole who’d kick a patient

Brendan closed his eyes,

on the couch. It was a considerably more limited space to be in, but he

It was only after hearing his

sincere. There was no trick, no twist. It was

show.