“And what does that mean?”
“Take me home.”
“Gladly.”
I take her by the hand, pulling her back to the car, but a thousand different thoughts are circling through my mind.
Do we really have a home, or is she just staying with me because I took her in the first place?
Is she only getting closer to me so her family can get revenge?
As I hold the car door open for her, I can’t decide if I’m the person she wants, or the person she’s holding onto until her family decides to kill me.
Chapter Eighteen
JADE
ShouldI set the knives out, or should I be worried about him using them to finally end this between us for good?
I stare at them in the drawer. The meeting with my family last weekend didn’t go too bad. Sure, there was a fight, and I still don’t have the best feeling about it all, but they got along as much as could be expected, and Ezra looked happy to be with his cousins again.
But there was something else in his eyes when we were leaving. Something that makes me think maybe he’s still playing me. I wouldn’t put it past him.
The Rinaldos know how to manipulate people for their benefit. Ezra grew up with them. And he stalked me. He spent months talking with me in chatrooms and gaining my trust.
But now that I’ve met him, now that I’ve spent time with him, I still don’t know if I can trust him. Not fully.
There’s something unpredictable in him, just like there’s something unpredictable in me.
It’s terrifying and appealing at the same time.
The front door opens, the alarm system beeping to let me know someone’s inside.
The familiar scent of Ezra’s cologne wafts down the hall as I pull two knives out of the drawer and take them to the table. After all, if he really wanted to kill me, he could do it with his bare hands.
It’d be all too easy to scoop out my eyeballs with a spoon, even. Or take a fork to my neck. Stab me in the carotid and watch me bleed out all over the dinner I’ve spent hours preparing.
But if he was really going to kill me, I don’t think he’d be pushing me to follow my dreams.
Maybe it’s time to start trusting him a little more.
“Smells good in here.” Ezra dumps the biohazard that is the contents of his gym bag into the washing machine and turns it on.
He shuts the little closet door to block out the sound and turns to me.
“Thanks. We learned to make it in class the other day, so I wanted to try it here.”
He looks at the steak resting on the cutting board, inching closer to the kitchen, strands of his damp hair falling into his face. “Steak and mashed potatoes?”
“Steak au poivre and herbed mashed potatoes, and then there are some lemon asparagus on the side.” I grab the oven mitts, opening up the oven.
“Did you poison it?” His tone is only half-joking as he looks at me. “I mean, the night with your family wasn’t the worst, and I didn’t kill your brothers.”
I swallow hard, wondering why we both have murder on the mind. It has to be a sign that something is wrong with us, even if neither of us wants to admit it.
There’s something here, and though I’ve been trying to trick myself into thinking it could work, it probably can’t.
There’s too much standing in our way. Too many things he’s done that I shouldn’t be willing to ignore.
