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Isaiah was safe. No one in the world could make me tell them what had happened at that cabin in the mountains. Because now, I was his wife.
Thinking about her was painful. Each beat of my heart pricked. My lungs burned. I’d married Genevieve when my soul was held captive by a ghost.
“They’re constellations.” Some fit between the knuckles. Others dipped down to the softer skin between my fingers. “Why constellations?” I turned my attention to my sandwich. “For someone I used to know who loved the stars.”
“You hate me for her,” I whispered, sensing Dash behind me. “Yes.” “Fair enough.” I was the living, breathing reminder of our father’s adultery. I turned away from the photo. “I’m not my mother, but I loved her. I don’t agree with what she did, but she was my mom. Maybe one day you’ll see that I’m a victim here too.”
“Who’s Shannon?” My chest tightened. “A memory.” “Will you tell me about her one day?” A lie would have been easy. I could promise maybe. But Genevieve had earned the truth. “No.”
the angst
V. No one had ever called me V. I loved it when Isaiah spoke my whole name. I loved the one letter even more.
Shannon was the pregnant woman he’d killed. Maybe I’d suspected it for a while, but to know it was true didn’t make it easier to hear. This was Isaiah’s nightmare. He’d killed his fiancée. And their baby.
Genevieve had the power to destroy me completely. My life would be in ruins when she walked away. This kiss wouldn’t change the future. I shoved those thoughts away. And I kissed my wife.
Isaiah looked in the mirror and saw everlasting broken pieces, but maybe my broken pieces would fit with his. Together, maybe we’d make a whole.
Last night, he’d let down his guard. Last night, I’d fallen asleep in his arms. And last night, I’d stopped pretending I wasn’t in love with my husband.
“Proud of you, girl.” Draven’s whisper hit my ear at the same time the tears fell down my cheeks. “So damn proud.” I smashed my face harder into his chest. “Thanks, Dad.” His arms squeezed tight at the name. “Goddamn, I wish things were different.” So did I.
“It’s Draven.” My heart stopped. “What?” “He’s . . . dead,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry, doll. He’s gone.”
“Genevieve.” I waited until she glanced over, until I had her attention for a second. “You stand apart. From everyone.”
So why hadn’t he investigated the knife? Bryce had published an article not long after Mom’s death speculating a weapon of Draven’s had been stolen. Had he ignored it? Maybe he had investigated but there’d been nothing to find.
oh this cop is dirty
