“Yes, looking. What else would I?—”
“Don’t.” The word comes out like it’s been torn from his throat. “Don’t you dare.”
I twist, trying to see his face, but he holds me rigidly in place. “Don’t what?”
“Jump.” His breath is hot against my ear. “Whatever’s going on, whatever you’re feeling—This isn’t the answer.”
My body goes still. “What? No. I wasn’t?—”
His arms are steel bands, crushing me against him. “You were halfway out that window.”
“I thought I heard voices. I wanted to check if I might see anyone.”
“So you decided to climb to the highest point in the church, alone, without telling anyone?”
“I didn’t want to get anyone’s hopes up if it was nothing.”
“And was it? Nothing?”
I exhale, shoulders slumping. “I didn’t see anything.”
“So you decided to throw yourself off instead?”
Anger flares inside me, hot and sudden. “I wasn’t going to jump, you asshole. I was looking.”
“You swear?” His voice is rough, erupting another kind of goosebumps on my skin.
“Why would I lie?”
“That’s not an answer.”
I sigh, letting my head fall back against his shoulder. “Yes, I swear. I wasn’t trying to jump. Happy now?”
His arms relax marginally, but don’t release me. “Do you have any idea what finding you like that looked like from my perspective? Fuck, Dakota, you could have fallen.”
What would it look like? Me, leaning out over a fatal drop after everything that’s happened? My ruined wedding, my sister’s illness, the end of the world.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “I wasn’t thinking about how it might look.”
“Clearly.”
“Why do you even care? You hate me.”
Every muscle in his body goes rigid against mine. I expect him to shove me away, to stand up and leave me there with some cutting remark. Instead, his chest rises and falls.
One breath. Two.
Three.
“I don’t hate you,” he says, the words tickling the shell of my ear. “I don’t evenknowyou.”
“You hate my father.”
“Yes.” No hesitation there. “And your mother. But that’s not you.”
“Isn’t it?” I twist again, trying to face him. “I’m their daughter.”
“Stop squirming.” His arm tightens.
