I wipe a tear from my cheek, and the stinging burn of my own salty tears reminds me of the deep gash. Smith lets his hand fall from my face and steps away from me. His chest moves deeply, up and down. It takes more effort than I realize for him to distance himself.
He shakes his head. “You don’t understand. My feelings mean nothing in this equation.”
His decision is solid. I’d bet a wedding date is set. I sniffle. “You should have let natural selection play out tonight. The reason for your pain and angst would be gone. You can’t love me for the rest of your life, Smith. How honorable is it to marry Megan and have feelings for me?”
He turns to the side. It’s the profile of the uninjuredside of his face. From this angle I can imagine what he looked like before. What he looked like as Megan’s Smith. “Natural selection, my ass. You made a bad decision. I will never let anything bad happen to you!”
“People like me always make bad decisions. You won’t be able to stop me from living life and making decisions. This is it. Right here and right now. It may be the poorest decision I’ve ever made, but you need to stop this. You can’t profess this tragic love for me and be with her. I love you. I’ll always love you and want you. But I won’t be the other woman. Megan deserves more from you. And me.” More guilt rises to the surface.
“Go to her. The memory of me will fade away until I’m merely a black-and-white snapshot in your new memory. Or kiss me. Embrace your feelings. Don’t stalk me or talk to my friends to keep tabs on me. A clean break or a sharp love. Your choice.” They’re strong words, but I feel anything but. My voice is hoarse, and my face is throbbing. My stomach is coiled with anxiety, and my ribs sear with a sharp pain anytime I sob.
“One last kiss, then,” Smith says. He’s asking permission.
I nod, the finality of our situation hitting me hard.
Smith closes the distance between our bodies, and when I think he’s going to take me completely—mouth, heart, and soul—he leans his head to the side and kisses my cheek, right next to my wound. His hot breath sends shockwaves to my core, and I hear him moan as hebreathes me in. His warm hands run down my arms as he separates from me. On a second thought, he kisses me on the other cheek, down by my jaw.
“It will never be enough,” I say, tilting my head to the side to give him better access.
“It has to be,” he replies. His lips press in a firm line. He shakes his head and runs both of his hands through his hair in frustration, looking at the ceiling for some divine intervention telling him to make the other decision, I’m sure. “It has to be the right choice, or nothing in this fucking world makes sense.”
I could convince him otherwise, but this isn’t my decision to make. I just have to live with it. “You should check on him,” I whisper.
He nods, looking around the kitchen—any place except at me. He walks out of the room with more confidence than he should have at this moment.
I slide down to sit on the floor. Leaning over, I open the freezer and grab another bag of frozen vegetables and hold it against my face. I let a few tears fall, but I ration them. I know tonight the flood will break. I’ll be alone with the new, horrible words he’s given me.
“Poppet,” I exclaim. When I throw the front door open, I see Jasmine inside the cab of my car with the white cat on her lap. She rolls the window down and asks how my conversation went. I shrug and grimace when the tears begin. I hold my hands out and she puts the cat into my arms. Jaz talks to me for a few more moments,tells me to call her when I can, and she leaves with Sean. Smith’s truck is parked next to mine. After a longing glance and a tearful thank you to my friends, I return to the house of horrors.
The kitchen is silent when I breeze in, so I make my way into the back porch. With one hand on his head, Smith squats next to Roarke, two fingers pressed against his neck. Cocking his head to the side when he hears me, he raises his brows. “One less person I have to worry about,” he says. Standing, he looks at me cautiously, pausing to give me room to take in his words.
My eyes widen as I realize what he’s insinuating. He nods several times as I try to catch my breath, clutching my scared cat to my chest. Smith’s gaze darts down to the cat, and I catch a hint of a smile on his full lips. It seems twisted as hell, but also sweet.
“Go in the house. I’ll take care of this.” He slides a cell phone out of his pocket and dials quickly. I look down at Roarke. It’s the most helpless I’ve ever seen him. I wish I could take a photo. I’d develop it in black and white. “It was in self-defense. No one is going to doubt that when they see your face or when you tell the story.” It was a single punch that did him in. It’s been that simple all along.
Sean returns with a few of his coworkers. They all look tired, and they aren’t wearing their police uniforms. They’re here to help off duty. Next, several large, hulking men enter the house. I stay glued to the white sofa in the living room. The men have names that match theirmuscles and sheer size. Smith peeks in every so often and assures me that everything will be okay, that neither of us did anything wrong. Sean is here on the side of the law, and the SEALs on the government side. Under Martial law, the government side runs everything anyway.
Roarke’s mother. His family. I think of all of the personal attachments of a person who is gone. That’s what I mourn in this moment. I don’t mourn him. How could I possibly?
“We’re almost finished. You didn’t do anything wrong,” Smith reiterates, his head behind me over my shoulder. Lost in thought, I didn’t hear him approach. The men have been cleaning up and taking care of whatever loose ends need to be tied up legally, and I assume removal of the body.
I don’t say it, but I think it.We did everything wrong.We fell in love when we had no right, and the resulting chain of reactions led to this moment. The goddamn love didn’t do anything for either of us except cause pain.
For the first time I’m completely free, but my deepest desire has been taken away. Loneliness smells like flowers—gardenias. Now devastation has a scent. I inhale deeply and let it tear the rest of my heart to shreds.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Smith
The sun is setting.We’re out past curfew, and even though Sean and his officers assured us we’d be fine driving to Carina’s house in separate vehicles, I want her to ride in mine. The appropriate badges and paperwork will be with me in my truck. Seeing my unease, Sean offers to drive Carina’s car home so he can make sure she gets home without hassle. I’m mollified when she accepts and even more sick when she hugs him, the white cat meowing between their bodies.
“I want to check one thing before we leave,” Carina tells Sean.
He nods and says he’ll wait for her in the car.
Swallowing down stabbing jealousy, I follow her down a hallway. The dim light from the wall sconces projects creepy shadows on the opposite side of the hallway. This house is large. It gives me chills because I know what these walls have seen. They’ll see nothing more. Not where Carina is concerned. I’ll always protect her. Silently, from a distance—or even close if the needarises. She turns into a room, and I follow her in, closing the door behind us. The glow from a bedside lamp shines against her back when she turns to face me. Her features are masked by shadow.
“I need to talk to you. Not here, though. I need to tell you something.”
