Page 90 of Haunt the Mall

“He followed you,” he growled.

“When? When he was looking for you? When he was shopping for a Halloween costume?”

“Are those not enough?” His nostrils flared. “He was in the parking lot, waiting for you. You saw him too. The red car.”

Cold fear pumped through my veins. “That was his?”

“Yes,” he snapped.

I hugged myself. Was this kid creeping around actually dangerous?

Even Victor’s graveled voice couldn’t soothe me. “I’ve seen firsthand what stalkers can do,” he said, “and I wasn’t going to spend one more second risking he could hurt you.”

I trembled and shook my head. “When did you deal with stalkers?”

He glanced down the hall and twisted his hair. “It’s not that important.”

It was important. “Why won’t you tell me? Why don’t you tell me anything?”

“Because I don’t want to burden you. I want to be with you.” He crossed his arms and leaned against the wall.

We stood there in fuming silence: being. Together. It wasn’t pretty. It didn’t have to be. But I still needed the raw honesty.

“I want the scary, hard stuff too. I want all of you,” I pleaded, blinking back tears.

“You say that, but the second someone challenged us, the second you saw a darker side of me…” He shook his head.

A lump grew in the back of my throat. I wanted to scream. I wanted to punch something. I wanted to rip our hearts out and eat them so this would stop hurting, or at least so I’d stop caring.

“Listen, Victor, I’ve tried to be open about everything. I’m not judging—with the exception of wanting to know why you’d throw down with a teen,” I admitted.

“I hope I’ve explained that sufficiently.” He flexed his back and gave me that blank predator stare reserved for obnoxious customers.

“Mostly. But there are other things.” I lured him closer with a desperate smile. “I think you’re smart, charming, and funny. We have off-the-charts chemistry. I’m doing everything I can to keep this from being a fling. I come here constantly. I talk to you as much as I can while trying to keep things spicy. I introduced you to my sister. I took you to my place. I let you into my bed and my heart. You held my cat, for crying out loud. I don’t even let my parents do that.”

They always did it wrong. But Victor barely blinked in acknowledgment of all the guts I was spilling.

“I gave you every fucking piece of me,” I confessed. “Ugly and sexy. So, you don’t get to sit there and pretend it’s a burden when you’re choosing to hide things. Of course I’m insecure. It’s like you’re rigging the relationship against me.”

He turned his head. “I shouldn’t have to give you everything just for you to trust me.”

“But isn’t that what falling in love is supposed to be? Taking a leap? Trusting somebody?” I was trying.

A sad smile ghosted across his face. “Perhaps you’ve seen too many movies.”

38

Carving Guts

I felt like he’d stabbed me. Any second, blood would dribble past my lips. I’d stumble. Then, cough. Slump against the wall and leave a gleaming red streak of misery. I clenched my hands. Why couldn’t my pain be beautiful or interesting?

He said something else, something about love, maybe. My brain was floating somewhere outside my body. Still, his voice soothed me.

He clasped the juncture between my shoulder and neck. His cold fingers dragged me back to the moment. I gasped and squeezed his hand without thinking.

“We can talk later.” His hooded gaze trailed over my face. “See any movie you like. I have to tread through paperwork hell.”

I nodded, every hair on my body quivering to attention.