Total pages in book: 151
Estimated words: 148238 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 741(@200wpm)___ 593(@250wpm)___ 494(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 148238 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 741(@200wpm)___ 593(@250wpm)___ 494(@300wpm)
Kill seemed to fade, turning inward to his thoughts. His dark hair tangled around his forehead, obscuring his eyes.
He remembered.
He believed.
But why?
My gaze dropped to my hip—the same place where Kill had suddenly let go of his fierce conviction of my lies and let the truth awaken him. I searched for the key that had unnerved him so much.
There was nothing.
I saw nothing.
No matter how long I stared, I couldn’t see what he did.
I traced a strange equation hidden beneath smoke tendrils and forget-me-nots, but it didn’t mean anything to me—that part of my mind had yet to unlock.
The rage, confusion, and questions were swiftly becoming a pressure cooker inside. I knew I would explode if things didn’t start making sense soon.
The moment the speedboat docked, Arthur shrugged out of his leather jacket and threw it over my shoulders. The dense material weighed a ton. My eyes flared as he stole my hands, shoving them through the sleeves like I was a child.
Why had he given me his jacket now—why not at the start of the boat ride? Was he so far inside himself even basic things were taxing?
I wanted to ask him, but suddenly didn’t have the strength.
Neither of us said good-bye to the skipper, and Kill took my hand once we were on dry land, leading me quickly and firmly through the busy harbor and back to the parked SUV.
Opening my door, he didn’t say a word as he waited till I’d climbed in, then jumped into the driver’s seat.
This was the eye of the hurricane.
The unsustainable armistice that would tear us apart the minute we confronted all that we weren’t saying.
I just hoped we’d both be strong enough to survive the uprooting of our past, present, and future.
Turning the key, Kill coaxed the gas and shot into traffic.
He drove like a devil.
He drove as if he was terrified of anyone seeing me.
He drove as if he wanted to reenter the past.
Chapter Seventeen
Everything I believed had been a lie.
Not only had the people I loved stolen my life, but my ability to find goodness in others—including myself.
She was right in front of me all this time.
In my bed.
In my arms.
Yet my blind hatred and absolute conviction to never be hurt or deceived again had almost cost the girl I loved her life.
What did that make me?
And how could I ever fucking deserve her after what I’d done?
—Kill
Strangeness.
Strangers.
Strange happenings.
The past week of my life had just been strange. No explanations for behavior or hints at what was hidden. The moment we arrived back at Kill’s place, he left: squealed into the garage, shot from the SUV, and disappeared into the house.
A single sentence fell from his lips, garbled and nonsensical. “Give me… I need… I’ll come… Give me time.”
Without another word, he’d abandoned me. The gates were locked, the security system activated. He didn’t care about leaving me alone, standing gaping and wearing his jacket in the garage. He just took off, slamming a door in the depth of the house.
Give me time.
Where had he gone?
He’d run.
I’d sat there for a time, waiting. I’d been patient, giving him time to put his thoughts in order. After all, this wasn’t easy. The girl he’d loved, the girl he thought he’d murdered, the girl he’d gone to prison for, was back. Alive. Amnesiac, with no memory of how or where she’d been, but back and healthy and utterly ready to talk.
That was enough to make anyone run.
But love should be stronger than uncertainty of what it all meant. Shouldn’t it?
I waited for over an hour, but he never returned.
So I entered his home full of stealth and wariness, searching for the strangest man I’d ever known. For an hour I searched, but found nothing.
He’d gone.
The pain that caused me was tantamount to being worthless and sold. What had he seen that made him save me then disappear as if I were an infectious disease that needed quarantining?
Why had he kissed me and poured every inch of his heart into mine and then left?
It didn’t make sense.
It doesn’t need to make sense when someone’s breaking.
With a heavy heart, I tended to my other needs.
Preparing a dinner of salmon penne, courtesy of the gourmet meals Kill had had delivered, I ate alone, staring into space. My ears twitched for the barest of sounds, hoping he’d join me—drawn by pesto and cream. But he’d well and truly vanished.
Afterward, I drifted to his office, where I sat in his chair staring at the equation artwork, begging my mind to be kind and show me what Kill had seen.
It had everything to do with math. Everything to do with homework lessons and stolen touches. But my brain ignored my prompts, refusing flashbacks and snippets of my previous world.
It wasn’t until fatigue dragged me to bed that I sat on the edge of the mattress—the same mattress where Kill had taken me for the third time—and my listlessness turned to anger.