Total pages in book: 169
Estimated words: 162138 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 811(@200wpm)___ 649(@250wpm)___ 540(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 162138 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 811(@200wpm)___ 649(@250wpm)___ 540(@300wpm)
“It’s really nothing.” I met his eyes. “I was just thinking that now I understand why all these women want you so badly.”
He looked at me for a long moment. Just looked. No smile. No frown. Nothing to give away what he was thinking. I waited; I was good at that. He brought his hand up and cupped my face, his expression softening as he searched my eyes. “Why are you thinking about that? None of them had me the way you do.”
“No, but they still touched you.”
“They didn’t mean anything.” He kissed my lips softly. “You think I like to think about anyone who touched you before me?” He gestured his head at the framed photos. “You have a framed picture with some guy, and I had to tell myself that whoever he is doesn’t matter because you’re with me now.”
“His name is Luke,” I said, looking at his chest again.
His muscles tightened. “I don’t want to know.”
“He’s dead.” I met his eyes again.
“Shit, I’m sorry,” he said. “The car accident?”
I shook my head slowly. “You want the real story or the one everyone got?”
“There are two stories?”
“Yep.”
“What’s the one everyone got?”
“That he committed suicide.”
“What’s the real one?”
I stared at him. “He was murdered.”
“Murdered?” He spoke slowly. “Wait, is that why you want to keep me at arm’s length?”
I nodded.
He searched my eyes. “Why do you think he was murdered?”
“Luke hated guns. Hated them. And he died of a gunshot wound to the head.”
“And you don’t think he could have. . .” He let his sentence drift off. I shook my head. No way in hell Luke would have taken his own life. “How can you be sure?”
“Well, I can’t be sure, but I know.” I bit my lip and looked at my hands.
I couldn’t revive Luke to ask him, but the proof was there. I knew that the detective walked into the house, saw the same thing I did, and thought the same. He would never say it, though. I hated all of them. Every single one of them. I took a deep breath and bit my lip as I thought about that day again and all the days that followed. Suicide had never crossed my mind until then.
I swallowed. “Have you ever thought about killing yourself?”
“No.”
“I thought about it so many times after the accident and Luke’s death. I just. . . I felt like I was done, you know? If the universe really wanted me here, why would it throw all of these awful things at me? And yet, I was never able to go through with it.” I met his gaze. “Why do you think that is?”
I wasn’t sure why I was telling him any of this. I’d never told Marissa and Pres because I didn’t want it to be one more thing on their ever-growing list of worries. Not that I thought about it anymore. I had, though. The accident had taken a toll on me, and Luke's death sent me over the edge. Marissa and Prescott were also distraught and traumatized, but they were able to mourn along with everyone else. For months, I couldn't imagine going on. The pain was too raw, and the load of the burden felt crushing. Yet, something stopped me each time I tried.
“You want the real answer or the one I should give you?” he asks.
“The real answer, smart ass.” I rolled my eyes, but felt myself smile a little.
“Because the world would be empty without you,” he said. “Because we wouldn’t have met, and my soul would be lost for the rest of my life, searching for yours.”
“Jesus, Lachlan.” My voice was a whisper, my heart gripping my throat too tightly to speak any louder. “You can’t say things like that.”
He stared at me for a long time, saying nothing. I was difficult to make uncomfortable, but he managed it under his penetrating gaze.
“Do you say these things to everyone you want to charm?” I asked quietly, trying to break the silence, even if his answer might hurt a little.
“I’ve never wanted to charm anyone,” he said, still looking at me with those intense green eyes. I stared back, lost in them.
I blinked away when I couldn’t take it anymore. “What’s the answer you should give me?”
“You have a long life ahead of you. You’d be doing yourself an injustice by cutting it short.”
“How very political of you.” I felt myself smile wide. He looked at me as if in awe. “What?”
“That’s my favorite smile. You have no idea how often I dream of it.” He brought a hand up and brushed his thumb against my bottom lip. “I want to possess it. To keep it for myself.”
I bit the inside of my cheek. The butterflies were having a field day in my stomach.
“Tell me about the accident,” he said again, searching my face.