Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 95676 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 478(@200wpm)___ 383(@250wpm)___ 319(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95676 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 478(@200wpm)___ 383(@250wpm)___ 319(@300wpm)
"Let me go," she cries out, desperation in her voice. I know she isn't trying to run from the song though. She's trying to run from me. She's so fucking afraid I'm going to turn against her. It's as if she's terrified to let herself get too close because she's terrified it's going to blow up in her face.
I don't think she's figured out yet that she's already in love with me. That's why she's fighting me so hard. Not because she's afraid to fall. But because she already has fallen.
"I'll never let you go, Ivy."
A whimper breaks from her lips. She shudders in my arms, the fight draining from her. "I didn't do this," she whispers, breaking pieces of my soul. "I didn't, Cam."
"Goddammit, kitten," I rasp in her ear, holding her tight. "You think I don't know that you didn't do this?" I shake her gently, trying to make her see reason. "I know you, sweetheart. I know you."
She burrows her face into my throat and sobs.
"You okay?" I ask when she finally stops crying.
We're on the floor by Rory's desk. She's in my arms, curled up on my lap.
She nods but doesn't lift her head to face me. She keeps it buried in my throat.
I rub her back, pressing a kiss to her forehead. Listening to her cry broke my fucking heart. When we find Fake Ivy, I plan to make sure the D.A. throws everything they can at him or her. Everything. The motherfucker has made my woman cry far too often in the last few days.
I sigh and wrap my arms around Ivy before rising to my feet. She clings to me, unwilling to let me go. I set her on the bed and then have to pry her hands off me. I don't think she wants to have this conversation, but we don't have a choice.
"Look at me," I murmur, tucking my fingers beneath her chin, trying to turn her face up to mine.
She hesitates for a moment before giving in to the inevitable. Her eyes flutter open, gritty and swollen from crying. She's still ravishingly beautiful. My heart pulses in my chest with emotion as I stare at her, aching for her. She's been through so much in her life already. It's fucked up that she has to go through this now too. If there's a God, he's an asshole for making her face this trial.
I want to spank her for doubting me, but I can't because I get it. Her entire life just imploded in ways she's only now beginning to process. In ways she'll still be processing years down the road. And I'm a fucking cop. It's standing between us like a wall.
"I believe you," I say simply.
"Okay," she whispers, her voice throaty from crying.
"No," I say with a shake of my head. "I need you to listen to me, and I need you to hear me. This thing between us isn't going to work otherwise."
"Okay."
"I believe you."
"I know how this looks," she says after a moment. "I'd understand if you didn't believe me."
"Motherfucker." I rake a hand through my hair before tugging on the strands. "You are the most frustrating fucking woman I've ever met. I know you didn't do this. You aren't capable of something like this. Stop questioning whether I believe you and accept it."
"I'm trying, Cam!"
I hesitate and then sigh, letting the subject go for now. Until she's ready to admit how she feels about me, until she's ready to deal with how I feel about her, she isn't going to hear me. She's not ready to hear me yet. "I know you don't want to believe someone you care about is doing this to you," I say before grabbing the song lyrics from the bed. "But you don't have a choice anymore. You're being set up. You have to accept that now."
Her face falls into pure misery. "I know," she whispers.
"I need to know what you want to do with this."
"What I want to do with it?" she asks.
"If I turn this in," I say, my tone concise, matter of fact, "they're going to issue a warrant for your arrest sooner rather than later. You'll be charged with manslaughter, and this will be used as evidence against you at trial."
"Cam," she whispers. "What are you saying?"
I bite my tongue, not sure I know how to answer that. Not sure what the fuck I'm saying. I just know…fuck, I just know that if I turn this in, she's going to jail. There will be no avoiding it. It's her handwriting, her fingerprints, her DNA in his dorm room.
"You're a cop. You can't just pretend this doesn't exist, not for me."
She's right, but I hesitate anyway, the need to protect her warring with my obligation to the law.
"You're a good, honest man," she whispers, grasping my face between her palms. "You care what happens to people, and you do what's right because that's who you are. You will never be able to forgive yourself if you don't turn this in, and neither will I."