The bell above the door jingles, and, registering my admonishing look, Paige falls into silence. The last thing I need is the whole town talking about my non-breakup.
But then I sense someone stepping beside me, and when Paige gasps, dread coils in my stomach. I look up from my book, meeting the gray eyes I’ve come to adore in the past few weeks. They’re not playful like before but soft. Apologetic.
“Hey,” he says, his voice hesitant.
He’s so handsome, some voice echoes in my mind. Truthfully, he looks disheveled, like he hasn’t gotten any sleep. He’s wearing the same clothes as last night too.
“Goddamn it.” I glare at Paige, but her wide eyes tell me she had no part in this.
“She didn’t tell me anything.” His voice softens further. “I know you. I know where you go when you’re upset.”
“I’m not upset,” I counter sharply.
His gaze flickers to the pile of books I’m clutching like a lifeline. “Uh-huh.”
“And I have nothing to say to you.” I grab a random book and pretend to read the back.
“Let me say my piece, Scarlett, please. And if you want nothing to do with me after, I’ll respect that,” he insists. “I know you needed a great deal of trust to let me in, and I’ve betrayed it. I just want you to understand—”
“What?” I snap, rounding on him. “That though it all started as a ploy to steal my ranch’s secrets, you couldn’t help but fall for my sunshiny demeanor?”
His brow furrows. “What? N-no—”
“Let it go, Rafael. You have a killer to catch, and sorry to disappoint, but I’m not them.”
I turn back to the shelf, silently praying that he’ll let go. That he’ll leave the bookstore, leave me. Maybe leave Willowbrook altogether.
“This was never about the case, Scarlett.” He almost sounds sad enough to make me pause.Almost. “My feelings for you aren’t a side effect. They’re the illness and the cure. They were here long before any of this, and they’ll be here after.”
Tears blur my vision, hot and uninvited, sliding down my cheeks as I try to hold on to the rage, try to make it make sense. But I can’t. The beauty of his words, the ache in his voice, they get under my skin. They rip through those same walls he always manages to climb over.
“Scarlett, I told you. I fell for you when we were nothing more than kids. I’ve onlydonesomething about it now.”
And how am I supposed to believe anything he says? “Bullshit.”
“No, it’s not bullshit. How do you think I even connected the murders to your podcast?” When I glance up at him, he sighs. “Because I connected my father’s murder to your episode aboutThe Lonely Man. Because I’ve been listening toMurders & Manuscriptssince the first episode.”
He’s been listening to my podcast? For five years?
“I don’t believe you,” I say, the realization bitter on my tongue. I don’t believe a word he says, and there’s nothing I can do about it. “Please, justleave.”
He looks at me like I’ve slapped him, eyes shining with hurt. “You’re really going to do this?” His voice drops, hoarse. “You’re really going to pretend we don’t mean anything?”
I don’t answer. I can’t.
His chest heaves once, twice. “Jesus, Scarlett,” he breathes, almost pleading. “Don’t—” But then he cuts himself off, biting down on whatever else he was about to say. He turns on his heel, and the bell over the door gives an accusing jingle as it slams shut behind him, the sound ringing in my ears long after he’s gone.
There.
It’s done.
I meet Paige’s stare, my mind still in a haze. “What?”
“Will you just toss me aside, too, when I do something wrong? Hurt me before I hurt you more?”
For a second, I stare into her stormy eyes, unsure of what to say. “Seriously, Paige? What he did is hardly just ‘something wrong.’?”
She crosses her arms, leaning slightly forward. “Yeah, well…”
