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My place was here, doing this with my father. Some people had varied, interesting lives. I didn’t. But I had, briefly.
I was crying because instead of grieving the dead man in my arms, I grieved the loss of the one who killed him.
“I know you said it couldn’t work out between you and your mystery guy, but stories like yours deserve a better ending.”
Stories like yours deserve a better ending. I tried. Since that night of confession with Tessa I’d gone to his house three times. He wouldn’t see me.
Yes, little lamb, I’ll order your filthy books. I shuddered, my stomach clenching tight.
“I was just too ignorant to see it. To much the fucking coward to reach out and take it.” My face fell. “You’re not making sense. What are you saying?” “I’m saying, Emily Snow, that I love you.”
It would be easy to watch him burn. I might even enjoy it.
“I’ll do it,” I replied. “If someone tries to hurt you and you hurt them first, I’ll make sure there’s no evidence it ever happened.”
“Is the oven preheated?” Ruarc asked, a dark brow lifted as he pulled away. I cringed, but laughter filled my throat. “Please don’t call it that.”
