I try to sink lower, ready to lose myself in Holt, but he doesn’t let me.
“Understood, Wallflower?” he grinds out, impatient with my non-answer. He slaps my ass, and my adrenaline kicks in.
“Yes.” I swallow, breathless. “Understood.”
He grips my hips and slams me down, filling me. “Good. Now, ride my cock until your sweet pussy is weeping for me.”
TWENTY-ONE
HOLT
“These goddamn motherfuckers never learn,” my father spits, his eyebrows slanted in anger. He brushes the dead leaves resting on top of our mother’s headstone before taking a step back.
“It’s fall, Dad. Leaves die. They fall. That’s nature,” Julianna mutters beside me. She sniffs, the brisk, fall air nipping at her nose, causing it to turn a faint shade of red.
“Well.” He squares his jaw and shoves his hands in his pockets. “I pay a groundskeeper an insane amount of money to maintain your mother’s gravesite. It’s their sole job. It obviously hasn’t been tended to since we visited last month.” My father turns to his assistant-slash-bodyguard. “Fire the groundskeeper and hire another one. I don’t care the price. Tess deserves the best.”
I can’t help the snort that comes out of me. My father snaps his head in my direction, shooting me a glare. So does Julianna. Admittedly, her glare hurts worse than my father’s.
“Is there a problem, Holt?” he asks.
I frown and shrug. “No.”
Not buying my answer, my father steps closer to me. Thelate fall breeze blows through the cemetery. Dry, dead leaves tumble across the bright green grass, landing in a pile against my mother’s headstone.
Tess Horan Capuleti
Beloved wife and mother
Emotion is thick in my throat. I hate that every time I come here and look at her name engraved into this godforsaken chunk of stone, all I hear is the sound of the gun as a bullet was put into my mother’s head. And for what?
According to the police, there is no reason, but I’m not as easily convinced as them.
My father stands beside me, his anger evident in the way he hasn’t stopped glaring at me. What the hell is up his ass today? Despite our disagreement over my mother’s killer, we’ve had a great relationship. But with the way he’s looking at me now, I barely recognize him.
“Say it,” he says, curling his lip.
“Say what?”
“Say what’s on your mind.”
“Come on, you two,” Julianna says softly, standing between us. “You know Mom wouldn’t want you to do this today.” She arches a brow, throwing his words back at him. “She deserves the best, right?”
“She does.” My father sneers, not taking his eyes off me. “But I can tell Holt thinks otherwise.”
“It isn’t that I don’t agree,” I argue, a knot in my chest weaving tighter. “But I think it’s ironic how you say what Mom deserves depending on the situation.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” he grinds out, his salt and pepper-lined jaw tightening.
“If you genuinely cared, you’d want to find her true killer.”
I watch the fire rise in his eyes. I swear, hishead might explode, but I don’t regret the words coming out of my mouth. Steam is practically billowing out of his ears.
But I’m over the fucking nightmares. I’m tired of everyone pushing what I know to be true aside. I’m exhausted by it all.
“Her real killer is in jail,” he barks. “When will you let this fucking go?”
“I won’t.” I raise my chin in the same way he has, defying him. “I truly believe Rhys O’Connell has something to do with it. I heard his name that night, and I heard it again?—"
