Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 134654 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 673(@200wpm)___ 539(@250wpm)___ 449(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 134654 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 673(@200wpm)___ 539(@250wpm)___ 449(@300wpm)
I froze.
His green eyes locked on mine.
We stopped breathing.
He’s completely clueless.
He was more screwed up than I feared. What had his father done to him all those years ago? How had he been so brainwashed and blinded?
“Arthur. It wasn’t like that. You don’t have to ignore or pretend—”
Holding up his hand, he snapped, “Stop it. Just once in your life, stop trying to fix me. I know what I did and I know I can’t ask for forgiveness.” Breathing hard, he winced through a wave of pain. “Just like I can’t ask forgiveness for lying in a fucking bed with a damn concussion while you were being tormented.”
I sat straighter, gathering my gown of bedding. “A concussion? So you aren’t okay! You’re lying to me about how bad—”
“That’s not the fucking point, Cleo! Goddammit, don’t you see? What happened that night was because of me. And what happened now is because of me. It’s all because of me.” He punched himself in the chest. “That’s the shit-awful truth.”
So much torment. So much incorrectly harbored guilt.
This poor man who I loved more than anything was festering in shame that wasn’t his to bear. “You’re so wrong,” I whispered. “You’re killing yourself by not seeing the truth.”
He ran his hands through his disheveled hair. “Not seeing the truth?” He pointed at my blood-smeared cheeks and rust-daubed chest. “You’re drenched in blood and there was a corpse in the Clubhouse. They made you watch while they killed someone. They scarred you physically as a kid and now emotionally as an adult. I can guess the rest, Cleo, and I don’t fucking like it. You can’t hide things from me—you’ve never been able to hide things from me.”
Crap, he’s good at guessing. Always had been.
My temper overflowed. “No—never like you, of course.” I slapped the billowing blankets. “I’ve never been able to hide—not like you. I don’t have your talent. I could never compete with the Great Secretive Art.”
He shook his head. “Are we seriously having a fucking argument? Here?”
“You started it!”
“You won’t let things go!”
“You won’t let me tell you the truth!”
“You’re just trying to push me away because of what I did!”
“Ah!” I grabbed my hair. “You’re impossible!”
Pain slammed into me, reminding me my temper might want to fight but my body definitely didn’t.
I slumped in the backseat. “I can’t deal with you right now.” I couldn’t look at him. Had he always been this frustrating? This hard to convince?
Yes.
So many times we’d locked horns and screamed until we were torn apart by worried family members. We fought over everything. When we were younger, our battles were over stupid things like stationery thievery and bicycle tampering. When we were older, it was about lipstick smears on his cheek from two-bit hussies and innocent messages to me from boys in my class.
We were jealous.
We were possessive.
We were passionate and explosive and consumed.
And that fiery combustion never ceased because we never gave in to what existed between us.
But now we are together. Shouldn’t it be easier?
Silence was heavy and breathless as our cease-fire lengthened.
Tears pricked my eyes. My head bellowed, my stomach was empty, and all I wanted to do was have a shower and get rid of the sticky blood and memories. But I also wanted to clear the air between us. To let him know that he didn’t need to fear—
Of course!
Sitting higher, I said urgently, “All this time and I didn’t see it.”
He frowned. “See what?”
“The past few weeks I hurt you with not remembering us, our past—of leaving you behind. When you took me to the beach, I knew how much you needed me to remember, but at the same time, you were hoping I would never recall that night—”
He reared back; his face shut down. “We have to go. We’re going around in damn circles.”
Slamming the door, he didn’t hear my whispered, “Everything you think you know about that night is a lie. You went to prison believing a lie. And you’re pushing me away because of a lie.”
How could I be so stupid? How could he be so stupid?
Arthur thought I would leave him. Did he honestly think after the trauma of the past few days that I wouldn’t remember in explicit detail? If I had to thank Rubix for anything in my life, it would be that. For smashing through the panic, shame, and bitter grief and showing me I was strong enough to face the one recollection my mind had tried to delete.
Sirens sounded on the horizon, splicing through the thick smoke from burning Dagger Rose. I’d wanted to witness the houses turning to dust. I’d wanted to laugh at the symbolism of a new beginning. But that wasn’t possible with the compound being so close to civilization and me covered in blood. Questions would be asked. Men arrested.