Perceptive bastard.
“He’s dealing with all this alone. This,” she huffed. “Whatever the hellthisis. I just—I wish I could help him. I mean, I wishwecould help him, but I’d do it alone if I could.”
“I’ll talk to him.” Landon’s eyes shot to me, a hint of distrust lurking there that I didn’t appreciate. As if I’d done anything to him that warranted it. “I’ll tell him more about what I’ve been remembering. Maybe I can also find a way to help.”
“Yeah?”
The hopeful lilt to her voice and chin hit me like a punch to the gut, because when he nodded, she instantly relaxed.
And I wanted to do that.
Reassure her like that.
But what the hell was I supposed to do about whatever mess Kingston had created for himself?
Getting out of the one I’d created for myself was a big enough problem.
Still stroking her back, I warred with myself over staying silent or saying something. She didn’t seem to need me to chime in, as evidenced by her falling asleep within minutes. But I hated that.
She didn’t expect me to do anything to make this better.
That was what it really came down to, didn’t it?
And I couldn’t let that lie.
“What did you mean about your memory or whatever?” I asked Landon.
Engaged in a staring contest with her sleeping face, Landon took the loss there, so he could start one with mine. Assessing me for a minute, he didn’t answer right away. But whatever was going through that head of his must’ve cleared me for access into their secret club.
He eyed me warily as he shared. “I don’t remember anything before my twelfth birthday. Bits and pieces are coming back to me, but nothing I can really make sense of.”
“You get knocked on the head or something?”
He shrugged gently, so he wouldn’t jostle Quinn. “I’m not sure it was an accident.”
But that was all he said.
For a while we just lay there, lost in thought, eyeing each other occasionally. I had no idea what he meant by that statement. I assumed it was bullshit, but I didn’t care enough to ask.
Whatever sympathy he’d hoped to garner, I refused to give it.
Yeah, we’d shared a bed the last few nights, but that didn’t change what Landon was. I didn’t want her out of my sight. And I definitely didn’t want him alone with her.
Not after?—
Landon pulled me from my thoughts. “This thing with Quinn…It doesn’t make us friends.” His brow dipped as he glanced back at her. “But I’m not sure how it’s supposed to work if we hate each other. Or if we’re out to get each other. I…That’ll only hurt her.” He glanced back at me, no doubt noticing my glare. “I’m not willing to do that again, Dread. For any reason.So, even if you still need to hate me, I don’t hate you. Even if…you see me as your enemy, you’re not mine anymore.”
I clenched my jaw, amazed by how clever he thought he was. Making a big show of acceptance toward me, as if I’d ever done shit to him to warrant his hatred.
As if I didn’t have a good enough reason to despise him.
Grabbing my sweatpants, I yanked them on and climbed off the bed. Officially over feelings-circle time.
“I trusted you once, Golden Boy. And a different girl who fell for your liesdiedbecause you didn’t save her. You think I’m willing to trust you again? Especially when it comes toher?” I scoffed, refusing to even look at him as I headed for my room. “Not a chance in hell.”
I turned back at the doorway for one last look at Quinn. She was still asleep. Landon’s fist clenched, and he’d turned his head toward the window.
“And if I ever get the chance to show her who you really are? Believe me,White Knight,I’m going to take it.”
