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“Christ. Another fucking Nancy Drew. And he says he doesn’t have a type.”
But that’s the thing about lies, Penn. They taint the truth until you have no idea what to believe.”
“This thing between us was never about truths or lies. We both felt it before the first word had ever been spoken. That day in your bathroom when you grabbed my arm, begging me not to expose Savannah, you might as well have crawled inside me and recoded my DNA, because two seconds later, my life started all over again. You felt it then.” He gave me a pointed squeeze. “And I know you feel it now. So take all the time you need, baby. But consider this fair warning: Penn Walker didn’t die. I’m very much alive and coming for you.”
Lies were light and fluffy. Made to order. Easy to digest. Impossible to hold on to. But the truth was dense. A boulder made of magnets, the Earth being the north to its south. The truth could crush a person with nothing more than reality.
“Different can be beautiful. We came from different worlds—I will give you that. But I lived in yours, and now, you’re going to live in mine. Because we belong together.”
It wasn’t until a few hours later, as a river of blood forged a path across my living room floor, that I realized it had all been one big fucking lie.
