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

his fever had gotten severe enough

impeding his thoughts.

out of her rage to ask, “And what

to make? Did you dream of

twinkled in his

Deirdre let the conversation die. Only after a coughing

his medicine. She moved her stiffened body and took it from the

him,

Before Brendan could enjoy his shock, she added, “Eat

strength to proceed

hope he had died

what awaited him. His head

glue swirling inside his skull. Something was choking

making simple conversation way too

down, and sat

sit,”

“Until morning?”

She ignored him.

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

commotion, Deirdre frowned. “What are

the bed. I’ll take

toward his destination exactly as he said

Deirdre paused for a minute. Then, she recovered from what she

Brendan’s elaborate games and sneered. “Get back here on the bed. I’m

kick a patient out of his bed for

his eyes, weary.

on the couch. It was a considerably more limited

was only after hearing his slow, rhythmic breathing that Deirdre

was being sincere. There was no trick, no

show.