Page 45 of Devil's Thirst
He takes a drink, his lips forming a thin line as he swallows. “I remember complicated. It fucking sucked, but it was worth it.”
“This is really fucking complicated,” I say into my glass before taking a healthy gulp.
He doesn’t attempt to hide the amusement in his eyes. He wants to know more but refrains from asking. “Anything I can do to help?”
Fuck, that’s what I was hoping he’d say.
“Yeah, actually.” I swirl my drink and measure my words carefully. “I know her family was mixed up in this thing called The Society, but I don’t know much about it. I’d like to learn more so I can understand her past better.”
He rubs his hand over the stubble on his jaw and lifts his gaze to the ceiling. “That was some pretty messed-up shit.”
I set down my drink and lean forward. “I want to know. Tell me everything.”
CHAPTER 23
AMELIE
You knowwhen little kids close their eyes to hide and think that if they can’t see anyone else, no one can see them? That’s me. I’m that kid as I sit in my apartment, curtains drawn shut, lights low, hiding from my problems. They’re still out there. Hiding doesn’t change a thing, but it feels necessary because I don’t know what else to do.
You can’t escape me.
I hear his words whispering on repeat in the back of my mind. What bothers me the most is the relief I feel. I’m also scared and worried and embarrassed—a whole cocktail of decidedly negative emotions—all somehow offset by a heavy blanket of relief.
I’ve held such a tight grip on my reins for so long that the threat of losing control has been terrifying. The uncertainty of the unknown loomed as dark as any storm cloud. I had no idea that once that control was stripped from me, I might experience … freedom. The consequences may not be ideal, but if events are entirely out of my hands, I can’t do anything about it.
The allure of that sort of release of responsibility is incredibly tempting.
But I have to ask myself, what kind of horrible person would ever give up fighting if it meant bringing horrible pain to their loved ones? How do I know if circumstances are out of my control or if I simply quit trying? I’m petrified of making a mistake I’ll regret for the rest of my life.
Which brings me back to hiding in my apartment.
Lina called not long after I got home. I wasn’t up for talking but was glad I answered because she was dead set on skipping the rest of brunch to come over, worried about why I’d run off. I told her a version of the truth—that I met Sante recently, and he intentionally concealed his identity. I explained that I was upset and simply needed a little time to cool down. Assured that I wasn’t on the verge of emotional collapse, she agreed to give me space, though I could tell she was itching to know more.
I’m sure they all are after my disappearing act. Everyone will know something is going on between Sante and me. And what’s better than emotional turmoil? Having that trauma put on display for the whole world to see.
Did I mention I may never leave my apartment?
The credits begin to scroll up the screen, signaling the end ofThe Princess Bride. I pause it and select start from the beginning—for the second time. I could watch this movie all day long, and that’s my current plan until I hear a knock on my door.
I don’t have to look through the peephole to know who it is, but I do anyway, just in case.
“Go away, Sante. I’m not ready to talk yet,” I call through the door.
“I’ll break it down, Amelie.” He doesn’t yell or sound angry. He doesn’t have to for me to know he’s serious. His crazy ass will do it.
I heave a dramatic sigh, then open the door, one hand on the knob, the other propped on my hip.
“What?” I ask in a clipped tone, though he’s still in the suit he was wearing earlier, and the sight winds me for a second. Something about the dichotomy of tattoos with silk ties is mesmerizing.
On the other hand, I am wearing flannel pajama pants with little sheep on them and an oversized sweatshirt with a faded image of Winnie the Pooh and Piglet holding hands.
His eyes take a sweeping survey of me from top to bottom. “You’re fucking adorable.”
I cross my arms over my chest. “That is so not fair.”
Sante prowls forward, not waiting for an invitation. I backtrack, doing my best to look disapproving. He kicks the door shut behind him and continues toward me.
“Told you I’d be honest. Never said I’d be fair.”