My mother would say that boys don’t do anything nice for you if they’re not expecting something in return. Of course, she’s not around anymore to lecture me, but she may have a point in this case. I had been working out a way to mention offhand that I have a boyfriend.

But today, I’m too pissed off to be polite and spare his feelings.

“Here’s your cream and sugar.” Hunt holds out my coffee in his left hand and a couple of packets of cream and sugar in the right. “I know you like to add your own.”

I clear my throat. “Can I talk to you for a moment? Alone.”

Hunt’s eyes light up. “Sure, Brooke.”

Great. He thinks I’m going to make out with him.

We get inside the exam room, and I shut the door behind us. A voice in the back of my head tells me it might not be the best idea to be alone with this guy, especially when I’m about to confront him, but I can’t have this conversation with him in the hallway. Unfortunately, this is definitely encouraging the idea that I am hot for him.

“Marcus,” I say in a low voice. “Why didn’t you tell me you were in my class in high school?”

He freezes, his mouth open but no words coming out.

“Don’t say you weren’t,” I say. “I was looking through the yearbook and saw your picture. You were in my class. You must have known who I was when you first met me.” He starts to say something and I add, “Don’t lie.”

“Fine.” His shoulders droop. “Yes, I knew you right away. I mean, it’s pretty hard to forget the girl who almost got murdered by her boyfriend during senior year.”

“You also never mentioned that Shane and his buddies beat you up.” I fold my arms across my chest. “That they put you in the hospital. And you’ve been harboring a grudge against him for years, and now you’re making him pay for what he did to you.”

“That,” he says, “is an exaggeration.”

“Is it? Tell me he did anything here in prison to warrant the way you’ve been treating him.”

A dark expression passes over Hunt’s face. “He doesn’t have to do anything here. I already know what kind of person he is. He’s the kind of guy who would kick me in the ribs while laughing about it.” His hand balls into a fist. “You know what he’s like too, Brooke. I don’t know why you’re defending him.”

He makes an excellent point. I should hate Shane. I should be happy to see him locked up here, his hands and ankles shackled together. I should want to see him suffer after what he put me through.