Page 63 of Touch of Hate
Her gaze goes from moving around, studying, observing, to locking onto mine. The blue of her eyes is brighter now.
“What makes you say that?”
“I see you looking around, and I know you probably have a lot of questions. I also know it’s not much, but it won’t always be this way.”
“I’m not complaining.”
“No, but you deserve more than this. We both know it. I only want to be sure you understand where I’m coming from. I’m not asking you to rough it for the rest of your life.”
I pick up half of my sandwich and take a huge bite, which only inspires another bite. Sometimes I don’t realize how hungry I am until I start eating.
While I chew, she asks, “How did you find this place? Does it belong to you?”
Instantly, my chest goes tight, and the sweet jelly now tastes like nothing. I have to force myself through the process of chewing and swallowing before leaving the rest of it on my plate. “Why do you ask?”
Her head snaps back slightly, her delicate features pinching as she winces. “I was only curious. Isn’t it a natural question to ask? I’m interested.”
“Not everything is for you to know right now.”
“Sorry.” Her voice sounds tiny, tinged with fear, and instantly, I hate myself. There’s still so much she doesn’t know, so much I need to keep from her, but those secrets form a wall between us.
A wall she knocks against without knowing it.
“Why did you do it? I’m sorry,” she’s quick to add, flustered, her face flushing. “I have to know. Why live so far away from everybody who loves you? Why run away and seclude yourself?”
Every word takes effort. Every last one. “You and I both know there was no life for me at Corium or with your family after what I did.”
Anguish contorts her face. She looks visibly pained by my statement, and I wish it wasn’t true, but it is.
“That’s just it. Why did you do it? All this time, I didn’t want to believe it—”
My jaw aches, and a pain begins to form at the back of my head. “I don’t want to talk about this.”
“Really? Because I do. How am I supposed to live here in this cabin with you when there’s so much you won’t tell me? Why didn’t you at least send me a message so I would know you were alive? I have been so scared for you all this time. Worried you might be dead. Don’t you know there’s nothing you could do that I wouldn’t forgive?”
Just as my heart swells, my teeth grind in resentment. This is what she does to me. This is how she tugs at me until I’m afraid I’ll split in half. How can I maintain my loyalty to River and our cause while maintaining my loyalty to her, to my heart, and to every dream she’s ever inspired?
“I had business to take care of.” I settle for responding, pushing my chair back from the table, and taking the unfinished half of my meal to the counter. It’s easier when I’m not looking at her to keep the wall between us, so I keep my back to her, staring at the wall over the sink.
“Business?” she asks, full of doubt. “What kind of business?”
I’m tired of walls. Tired of lies. Tired of holding myself back from the one sweet, good, perfect thing in my life.
That’s why, rather than whirling on her and demanding she shut her fucking mouth, I ask, “Do you remember hearing the name Safe Haven?”
It’s the first time I’ve muttered those two words to anyone but River in as long as I can remember. Since the old days, I suppose, immediately after everything that happened.
Speaking them aloud opens a door I hoped she would never need to step through. I didn’t want to expose her to this. The ugliness, the darkness. She deserves so much better than to be dragged into my fucked-up past.
On the other hand, if we’re ever going to have a future, she needs to know. I can’t hide it from her, especially not when River is hell-bent on bringing this war to a bloody conclusion. There won’t be any secret keeping with blood on my hands. It’s better to explain things now.
It will save time later. She’ll have the opportunity to think things over and see how right this is because she has no other option. She either follows me in the fight, or I carry her screaming into it. I’d rather do the first, but one way or another, there is no escaping our future.
I turn in time to watch her thick lashes flutter at the mention of the name, worry lines appearing over the bridge of her nose the way they always do when she concentrates.
“I feel like I’ve heard the name before, yeah.”
“But do you remember hearing about what went down there?”