Total pages in book: 140
Estimated words: 129207 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 646(@200wpm)___ 517(@250wpm)___ 431(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129207 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 646(@200wpm)___ 517(@250wpm)___ 431(@300wpm)
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” I demand, the tension thickening in the pool with every step he takes toward me. Tears burn the backs of my eyes, and I feel the very second I lose control. “Everything changes. Everything did change. I was in love with you, and then you left, and Axel died. And I . . . fuck.”
I reach for the neck of the bottle. Fuck the glass. I need the whole thing.
I lift it to my lips and take a deep drink, only as I lower the bottle, I realize how much closer he’s gotten. “Was?” he questions with agony in his eyes. “Past tense.”
I swallow over the lump in my throat as he steals the bottle out of my hand and drinks, needing it just as much. If I open my mouth now, I’m terrified the truth might spill out—that no matter how hard I’ve tried, I’ve never been able to stop loving him. I have been wholeheartedly his since the very day I met him, and nothing has ever changed.
He creeps closer as he reaches past me, putting the bottle back on the edge of the pool, but the movement brings him way too close for comfort. “Don’t,” I warn him, knowing neither of us will be able to resist if that gap closes.
“Why the hell not?” he challenges.
I scoff, gaping at him as though I’m staring at a complete stranger. “Are you kidding me? How could this possibly be a good idea? No amount of history between us changes the facts. You killed me, Ezra. You left me behind and destroyed everything good that was in me, and then after Axel . . . Don’t think for one second that I’m not blatantly aware of the fact that you still haven’t given me the answers I deserve.”
A coldness comes over him, and suddenly I feel as though I’m standing in an ice bath, not a heated pool. “There’s nothing to say,” he snaps.
“That’s fucking bullshit, and you know it,” I throw back at him, shoving my hand against the water so it splashes up over him. “Tell me. It’s been two years, Ezra. I deserve to know exactly how my brother died. Hell, there are a lot of things regarding Axel’s death I deserved that I never got.”
“Like what?” he demands.
I gape at him. “Oh, you really want to get into it? I deserved to know before the fucking media. I deserved to not have to find out by my best friend barging into my room in the middle of the night. I deserved to not have my number blocked by your whole fucking team when I was begging for answers. I deserved to at least have a say in how he was buried, and where. I deser—”
“Okay, shit, Rae. I get it,” he says, firing back at me, just as worked up as I am. “I fucked up. Every chance I’ve ever had with both you and Axel, I have fucked it up, and you punish me for it every fucking chance you get. You’ve made it crystal clear that I’ve let you down.” He takes a breath, running his hand through his thick, dark hair. “Do you have any idea what it’s like to have to live with that guilt every fucking day? To live with the fact that the only person I’ve ever wanted despises me for living my dream.”
I simply stare at him. “That’s what you think?” I scoff.
He opens his arms out wide. “What the fuck am I supposed to think, Rae? You’re not exactly known for being honest anymore.”
“Pray tell,” I groan, getting more frustrated with him by the second. “I’m an open book, Ezra. I’ve been up-front with you since the moment I got here. What the hell have I lied about?”
He steps closer, his eyes brimming with fire. “Why are you so fucking sick at the idea of going back home?”
His words are like a slap to the face, and I hastily back away from him, my heart racing with fear at just the mention of home. “Don’t,” I say, grabbing the bottle and turning away, desperate to conceal the fear in my eyes, knowing he will sense it without even trying.
I wade through the water until I’m back outside, needing the air, and I hear him moving through the water behind me without missing a beat.
“Rae,” he murmurs.
“No,” I whisper, moving right to the edge and staring out at the view that doesn’t quite seem so incredible anymore. “We’re not doing this.”
I feel him move in behind me, his body so close and yet not an inch of his skin brushes mine, not until I feel his fingers at the top of my spine. His touch is like a shot of electricity pulsing right through my skin. “What the hell is this?” he murmurs, tracing the lines of my tattoo that I’d so foolishly forgotten about.