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

to one-up her. Maybe, his

impeding his thoughts.

out of her rage to ask, “And what

make? Did you dream

“Yes.” Something twinkled

conversation die. Only after a coughing fit

of his medicine. She moved her

him, she

his shock, she added, “Eat

gain enough strength to

of hope he had died in

awaited him. His head made

boiling pot of glue swirling inside his skull. Something was choking him

simple conversation way

and sat up again. “Where

“I’ll sit,”

“Until morning?”

She ignored him.

bathrobe, put it on, and climbed out

Deirdre frowned.

“You get into the bed. I’ll take the

his destination exactly as he

minute. Then, she

Brendan’s elaborate games and sneered. “Get back here on

a

his eyes, weary. “Just sleep

He lay on the couch. It was a considerably more limited space to be

asleep. It was only after hearing his slow, rhythmic breathing that Deirdre

the man was being sincere. There was no trick, no

show.