“I won’t ask for your answer right now. I know you need some time to process everything. I lied, and you’re furious, I get that. I can’t get into my account right now, but I swear I’ll get the money back to you.” He lowers his voice and glances toward one of the officers. “Provided they don’t arrest me rightnow.”
“Seriously, Cary? You think this is about the money? I don’t give a shit about that. Nine thousand is nothing to me. I’ve already disputed the embezzlement charges against you. And as for you lying to me? I’m the last one who should be your judge and executioner. That’d be hypocritical, don’t you think?” Pulling my hands away from his hold, I nod to Will. “Let’sgo.”
We walk as an entourage toward the door almost in slow motion. The minute we step outside, blinding paparazzi cameras flash, and people shout my name, some calling me a freak, some demanding that I rot in hell. My arms are up, trying my best to shield my face, when Cary appears beside me. His hands cover my head, pulling me against his chest as if it’s his automatic response to shield me from the chaos that is mylife.
But he’s misunderstood me. I’m not trying to shield my face because I don’t want anyone to see me, or because I’m trying to hide. Those days areover.
I push him away and step back, taking in the stunned expression on his face as the mob quiets. “I’m not ashamed,Cary.”
“I never said youwere.”
“This is who I am now, and I’ll never be anything else. I can accept it. They can accept it, or I can choose not to live. I haven’t lived in twenty-five years. I choose life because I’m worth it. I know thatnow.”
We stare at each other, Cary’s lips parting as his Adam’s apple bobs in his throat. I meant what I said to him. I haven’t lived in twenty-five years, but the old Shiloh is dead and gone. The one walking out of this building lives for the happiness of other people, not for her own. That’s the key to living. I only wish it hadn’t taken me so long to findit.
Someone carves a path, and hands try to guide me toward Malcolm’s waiting limo. After the exchange between Cary and me, the paparazzi have become even more blood-thirsty, calling out both ournames.
“Cary Kincaid! What do you have to say about the allegations against you concerning your alleged embezzlement from ShilohWest?”
“Cary! Is it true you conspired with Taryn McDaniel to send Shiloh West to a California stateprison?”
The heart I thought I no longer had twists in my chest. He looks so agitated. Like a fish out of water, ready to shove their cameras up their asses. There’s an art to handling paparazzi. A fineness that is learned from years in thespotlight.
Cary’s not going to learn it in thirtyseconds.
Before anyone can stop me, I run back to him and grab his hand. I refuse to contemplate the consequences of what I’m doing as I pull him with me toward the waiting limo. His hand squeezes mine initially—his fiercely tight hold reminding me of that night in the lockerroom.
But then his grip loosens and he releases my hand, coming to a complete stop before we reach the curb. I turn around to ask him what the hell he’s doing when I catch his eye. It’s not angry or remorseful. It’s proud, and I immediatelyunderstand.
Carrick Kincaid grew up in a modest house in a less-than desirable neighborhood in Myrtle Beach. His parents barely scraped by running a cheap, run-down motel that survived on the random vacationer and destructive Spring Break kids. He was bused into the Coastal Shores school district as part of a redistricting initiative to diversify the income levels of schools in HorryCounty.
He worked two jobs in school to help his family pay for his sister’s medical bills, one of them being landscaper for my family. He didn’t have money, but he had hispride.
Cary Kincaid is every bit as proud as Carrick Kincaid everwas.
That’s why he won’t get in my limo. It’s why he won’t allow me to hide him away like some dirty little secret. Cary will stand up and answer for his sins like a proud manshould.
We share one more lingering glance before he turns around and makes his way through the crowd with his head held high. I can’t do anything but watch, and when the last dot of him disappears, I allow Will and Bianca to lead me away as I lift my chin and do the exact samething.
Thirty-Eight
Shiloh
Even though hewas the one to walk away from me this time, deep down I had a feeling it wasn’t the last I’d see of him. My suspicions are confirmed two nightslater.
After leaving the police station, Malcolm drove every backroad in town, trying to dodge relentless paparazzi for over an hour. Thankfully, we made it back home before they set up in front of the house. Not long after, Will called to tell me that since they’d camped out in front of the community center too, Cary had made the decision to shut it down for the rest of the week. Apparently, I was free to spend the time reacclimating myself as acivilian.
A crack of thunder hits, and I silently count to five before a bolt of lightning brightens the night sky. Crawling off my bed, I move to the window, stopping just before I draw the curtains. It’s pitch black outside, but I can still see the rain as it pounds against my bedroom window. Most people hate thunderstorms. I’ve always loved them. There’s a chaotic peacefulness about them that groundsme.
My phone rings again for the eleventh time today, and for the eleventh time, I silence it. I’d turn the damn thing off, but I’m expecting a call from Lena and don’t want to miss it. Tossing it on my nightstand, I flop back onto my bed and press the heels of my hands against my closed eyelids. Cary’s been blowing my phone up with calls and texts for the past forty-eight hours, and even though I’ve ignored every one of them, he’s been relentless. I haven’t listened to any ofthem.
Not because I don’t care. Quite the opposite, actually. I care too much. I know once I fall down that rabbit hole, there will be no coming back out. I’ll forgive him and we’ll repeat the same cycle over again. We’re a powerful poison running through each other’s veins. Maybe separate we’ll survive, but together we’ll end up destroying each other. Not intentionally, of course, but it’ll happen. One piece at a time until there’s nothingleft.
As another loud crack of thunder hits, I roll over and glance at my alarmclock.
Twelve thirty-seven.
With thoughts of him all jumbled in my head, I know sleep isn’t coming for me anytime soon, so I head toward my adjoined bathroom for my third shower of the day. However, halfway across the room, a familiar warmth spreads overme.
