Sheer panic races through my veins. “I’m not fucking around, Eve.”
“I know that.” She nods and steps closer, the heat of her hand on my forearm makes me flinch. “Sometimes the best defense is to step toward what scares you, not run away from it. You taught me that.”
I focus on her hand on my arm. “Why are you doing this?”
“Because I love you.”
The words push from my gut. My head knows releasing them will mean freedom, but the fear in my chest holds them back. “You said you weren’t strong enough to hold on to me.”
“I’ve been working out.” She shrugs one shoulder. “I think I can manage now.”
I drop my chin to my chest, and a desperate groan falls from my lips. “You sure you can handle it?”
She steps closer and dips her head to meet my eyes. “I’m sure.”
My heart beats frantically and I’m terrified. I roll my head back, my thoughts vacant except for five little words that are my confession.
“I took my daughter’s life.”
Forty
Cameron
Eve’s face drains of color. Her lips part and tears swell in her eyes. A myriad of emotions flashes in her eyes.
Shock. Disappointment. And finally disgust.
“You still think you’re strong enough to hold on?”
She stumbles back, and her hand slips from my arm. Her head swivels from side to side in a slow shake that won’t do anything to erase my confession. This I’m sure of because I’ve done it myself more times than I can count.
She swallows hard. “No.”
I drop my chin to my chest, unable to hold her gaze when all I see in it is my failure. “You get the information you needed?”
“I . . . How?”
“Does it really matter?” I rub my eyes with my forefinger and thumb. “She’s gone because of me.”
“I don’t know what to say,” she whispers. “I . . .”
“Good night, Eve.” I can’t bear to look at her, but I hear the shuffling of her feet as she leaves the room.
And closes the door behind her.
*
Eve
I move numbly down the hallway to the living room, lost in my thoughts, sorting through my feelings. I expected a thousand different stories, but never did I imagine the truth would be so hideous.
I took my daughter’s life.
His confession rings through my head, the desperation, sadness, guilt and agony, all so evident in his voice. If only—
“Eve.”
I jump at the sound of Ryder’s voice. He’s leaning against the couch, shrouded in the dark of the living room.
“I’m, ah”—I fumble to pull up the right words, to think clearly—“sorry for waking you up.”
He closes the space between us, his eyes narrowed on my face. “You okay?”
“Am I?” I rub my forehead, pushing my bangs back. “I think so. I just found out about . . .”
“Ah. So Dad finally opened up, huh?”
I jerk my eyes to his. “Um . . .”
“About Rosie?”
“Rosie.” Her name. His sister. My heart cramps for the pain he must feel at her memory. “Yeah, I guess he did. I’m . . . I had no idea.”
“Yeah, he doesn’t like to talk about the accident.” He shrugs and crosses his arms over his chest. “I don’t really see what the big deal is. I mean it happened; can’t hide that shit, ya know?”
I cringe at the easygoing way he speaks about his sister’s death at the hands of his own father, even if it was an accident. “How, uh, how long ago did she die?”
His eyebrows drop low over his eyes. “Hmm.” He looks down the hallway toward Cameron’s bedroom then swings his eyes back to me. “You got any plans right now?”
I shake my head. “It’s almost two a.m.”
“Right. Let me grab my shoes. You drive.”
I watch him disappear down the hallway and into his room. Drive? Where the hell are we going? Not that it matters. I’ve got nowhere else to be, and after Cameron’s confession, I’ll get no sleep with all the questions filtering through my mind. And something tells me Ryder has all the answers.
*
Cameron
It’s the middle of the day and my concentration’s for shit. After Eve’s visit last night, I’ve gone back and forth between showing up at her door and throwing myself at her mercy or locking myself up in a padded room. The more she knows about me and the further away she runs, the more I want to chase her down and keep her forever.
I flip through my notebook again, absently taking in the list of to-dos and don’t-forgets, but only see her face, fear working behind those big blue eyes. A kind of fear I’ve never seen on the strong woman I’ve come to care for. The resilient woman I’ve come to love.
A knock sounds on my office door. “Come in.”
Killer mopes in, his eyes downcast. “Hey, Mr. Kyle.”
“Killian, what’s up?”
It isn’t until he gets closer that I realize he’s not just looking down, but he’s trying to hide his face behind long shags of hair. He takes a seat and keeps his head down, but that doesn’t keep me from seeing the color on his cheek.