I bring her hand to my lips and kiss her fingers before meeting her eyes. “Because Iknow,” I manage. “I know, baby.”
Her teeth clench hard enough to cause a shudder, and I swipe my thumb over her cheek.
“We’re allowed to break free of them, aren’t we?” she whispers. “To rip out of their chains and not become who they were?”
Fuck.
My entire being falters at her question. It’s the very question I’ve asked myself for years. The question I never knew how to answer until now.
“Yeah,” I breathe, sniffing back my tears. “We don’t have to live with the weight of their fuck ups. We’re not them.”
A full breath enters her lungs. I tilt her head back with my knuckle, and our lips meet in the promise that we’ll never be who they were.
Because I swear it.
We’ll never be them.
Blue lights flash outside the windows.
My heart drops as the strobes filter inside and bask on the walls. Andi sits back, her eyes wide as we both stare around us.
“Motherfuck,” I hiss. “Goddamn nosy ass neighbors.” I shrug my hoodie off and hand it to Andi as we stand.
Panic is written on Andi’s face. “Oh my god—Maddox—” She looks down at her hands, at the blood on her legs—
“Hey—hey.” I take her face in my palms and make her look up at me. “You’re going to tie this around your waist and go in the kitchen to wash your hands,” I tell her. “I own this place. We’ve done nothing wrong. Breaking fucking lamps is nothing compared to the rest of the shit that’s happened on this street.”
Three knocks sound on the door.
I’m well aware that the cop can see our fuzzy figures through the long windows on either side of the door, and I don’t fucking care. All I care about is her and the fact that I know if the cops saw the blood on her, they’d think I had done something to hurt her.
And I wouldneverhurt her.
“Police,” the cop says, shining his flashlight inside.
“It was probably Mrs. Lawry,” Andi says, her jaw gritting. “Fucking Mrs. Lawry. She’s always been nosy.”
“I got it—I’m coming!—” I snap at the door when they knock again. “Probably was her,” I agree. “She used to call the cops on me and Reed for noise complaints at least once a month until they basically told her to fuck off.”
Andi walks over the broken pieces on the floor and into the kitchen as I reach for the handle. The cop has barely lifted his arm to knock again when I swing open the door, only to be met with a flashlight in my face. I flick the porch light on and lift my hand over my eyes, squinting at the abruptness.
“Whoa—the fuck—can you put that down?”
The cop lowers the light, and I blink to get the flash from my vision. I press my fingers to the insides of my eyes, not only to try and correct my sight but to take a deep breath in an attempt to calm my nerves.
“Didn’t realize anyone was in this house again,” the cop says.
I finally look at him. “What’s the issue?” I ask.
The cop appears tired, and I know the stare he’s giving me is as scrutinizing as he means it to be. I’m used to it. Had he recognized me, it would have been even more judgmental.
He leans forward to peer around me as if looking for someone else, then sniffs the air.
“If you have a cold, I’d appreciate you getting off my stoop,” I say flatly. “You can talk from the grass.”
The officer clears his throat, glaring at my comment. “Neighbor called about suspicious activity here,” he says. His gaze moves over me, and I note that it lingers on the tattoos on my hands, on the insides of my arms—exposed now that Andi is wearing my hoodie.
“This house has been vacant a few years now. You by yourself?” the cop continues.
