Savior (The Kingwood Duet #2)

“Inside.”

“Just that simple?” What started out feeling like a judgment has turned into something solid, something I’ve probably needed to hear all along.

Resting his lower back on the railing, he looks at me, sees into my head, and hopefully sees the real me inside the confusion of who I’m supposed to be—everyone’s expectations are bearing down. I’m unable to breathe anymore. “Fuck ’em. You be you, Sara Jane.”

I shake my head. “I don’t know who I am anymore. I used to be my father’s daughter, a good student, and Alexander’s girlfriend. Now? Now I’m living in a manor with a woman who I highly suspect hates me, and I’m recovering from a violent attack. Later today I’m attending Chad’s funeral and facing my best friend who blames me for his death. I’m not sure if I want to be me right now, but more than that, I’m not even sure who I am.”

“I know you, the real you. You may have gone by a different name, but that was you under all that Alice.”

“Alice was an illusion. Similar to Eric, I suppose.”

“You’re damned if you do and damned if you don’t. Break the rules. Do what you want to do and stop trying to make everyone else happy.”

“Is that what you did?”

“Didn’t this whole conversation start because I’d left a string of broken hearts in my wake?” He chuckles. “If that’s the case, I’m definitely not making others happy.”

“You don’t seem like the kind of guy who sticks around, so why are you still here? Be honest with me. Please.”

“Because you are.”

My mouth remains open from his confession. I stand, leaving my coffee to get cold and move to the opposite side of the balcony, needing the space.

I stare at him.

He stares at me.

Neither of us moves.

After a minute and a good long hard look at him, I whisper, “You can’t say things like that.”

“I just did.” He doesn’t whisper.

“You shouldn’t.”

“I don’t care.”

“I do.” Turning away from him, I lean on the railing and look out at the twinkling lights that dot the cityscape.

“Why do you care?” His voice is close, so I turn to keep my eyes on him. “If it means nothing to you, if I mean nothing to you, why do you care what I say?”

“Because I love Alexander, and it’s disrespectful to him.”

When I dare peek at him, the pressure from the weight of his body leaning on the rail defines his well-sculpted arms in the moonlight. I shouldn’t be noticing that. An emotion that’s hard to place settles over his expression. “What is love anyway?” I sense melancholy in his question.

My defenses are up. They have to be around him because he’s quick and clever. I snap, “More than lust or a one-night stand.”

Cocking a smirk, he says, “So you’ve thought about me . . . in that lust and one-night stand kind of way. Good to know.”

“I didn’t say that. And hate to disappoint you, but I’ve never thought of anyone but Alexander in that way.”

The laughter that escapes him feels too big for the space. Like everything about him, his mood grabs all the attention. His charms permeate the air—the smile, the jovial remarks, the honesty. His eyes, and the way they look at me, like only one other man has ever looked at me. I see why women would fall so easily for him. I’m just not one of them, and I’m starting to wonder if we can remain friends.

“Come on, Sara Jane, it’s just us out here. Imagine we’re back in the mountains, hanging out at the diner or grabbing a beer at Growly’s. Imagine you didn’t have to wear this pretentious noose around your neck and you could just be you again, or even Alice.” Shifting his weight, he angles toward me and I angle away, but keep my eyes on his, taking in his every word as if I need the advice. “I see how you pretend around him. I see how you struggle on the inside. You love him. I get that. Sometimes I think it’s so engulfing you’re drowning in it. But we don’t find love. It finds us. It shouldn’t smother us. It makes us better even under circumstances that would be more fitting in another time or place. So why don’t we keep pretending there couldn’t have been more if we’d had more time together. It’s easier for you that way.”

I should deny everything he says and argue that he’s wrong. I’m starting to think he may not be. Not only when it comes to him and me, but in life. I’ve invested years into a future I once thought I had. But it’s more fragile than I once thought. Just like life. Things have changed so drastically. Why go to school if I’m supposed to be locked away in a castle with more money than one can spend in five lifetimes? What is the point to all of this?

The one thing I’m sure of is we ended up exactly where he intended us to be. This life we’re living is what Alexander’s warnings had been about. There’s no denying that. Consequences are inevitable. Dues will need to be paid. You don’t end up here without debts a mile high. The debts will collect what’s owed in blood, money, or with us, but we won’t survive this. We can’t. At least we’ll be together when we fall.

This is not something I can control. I was destined to be exactly where I am.

“Why’d you come after me that night, the night I left Growly’s? Did you know Alexander was there? Were you coming out to see him?”

His thumb finds his bottom lip, and he looks away, caught somewhere between shy and embarrassed. It’s a nice reminder of the guy I thought him to be. “I didn’t know he’d be there,” he replies, looking at anything but me. When his soft brown eyes find mine, even the blanket of night can’t hide what he’s feeling. “I wanted to kiss you.”

I struggle to find my voice, so I whisper to hold on to what I have. “Would you have? If we’d been alone?”

He doesn’t share the same struggle, that gentle smile creasing his cheeks full of charisma. “Right there in the space between that motel and the bar, under the stars. I would have.”

Gripping the railing for support—emotional, physical—I ask, “How do you know I would have kissed you back?”

“I don’t, but I thought you were worth taking the chance.”

I shouldn’t. I shouldn’t wonder like I do. “Am I still worth it?”

“So much more than you know.”

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