“You didn’t talk to me the entire week you were gone,” I state plainly, my voice cracking.
“Falling for the daughter of my mother’s killer is a lot to process.”
If he says any more, he’s going to send me into cardiac arrest. I can only stare up at him, stunned into silence for what feels like the millionth time.
Meanwhile, my insides are in complete chaos. Everything feels out of whack, like a toy disassembled and then reassembled all wrong. All the cells in my body are having meltdowns, nothing where it should be, everything out of order.
“B-but I need to leave,” I say. “I need to go back to Silent Mist.”
Something insidious sparks in his eyes. “Why?”
“Because Lionel wants me to. If I don’t, he’ll kill Mindy, if he hasn’t already. Or hurt someone else.”
“You’re not going anywhere, Reverie.” His voice is dark, and full of promise. “Lionel will find endless reasons to hurt someone. That will never stop, even if you return to Silent Mist.”
He’s right, but it doesn’t make me feel any less guilty if I stay.
“You can’t leave me, darling,” he says quietly, a hint of vulnerability in his tone.
“Why?” I ask, my voice faint.
A crease forms between his brows, appearing tormented as he says, “Because it would break me.”
My jaw falls open, thunderstruck. That was the last thing I expected him to say, and it sends my insides into disarray yet again, making it impossible to respond coherently.
“We’ll keep it at that for tonight,” he murmurs.
My brows wrinkle, not understanding what he means. It sounds like he’s suggesting there’s more to it than that, but he’s turning away before I can press.
“Let’s go, Rev. We don’t have all night,” he calls.
It takes several seconds before I find my voice again.
“W-what?” I stammer. “For what? What are we doing?”
He stops by the steps leading into the shallow end of the water and then hooks his thumbs into his joggers before sliding them down, revealing his black boxer briefs.
I try to swallow, but once more, the saliva crashes into my heart lodged at the base of my throat, making it impossible to breathe again.
“Who do you think can teach you to swim better? Me or yourself?”
My mouth opens and then snaps closed again.
This is a trick.
It has to be.
Again, he must read my expression, because his face becomes eerily serious.
“I’m not going to drown you,” he repeats, more firmly this time. “I promise.” Then, he holds out his hand toward me, that sinful smirk emerging once again. “Swim with me, darling. If I’m going to make you choke, I assure you, it won’t be on water.”
I give him a dry, unimpressed look, but when he only continues to stand there with his hand held out, the urge to grab it takes hold.
It would be incredibly stupid to trust the person who’s gone out of his way to make my life a living hell. The person who, not too long ago, threatened to drown me if I didn’t fuck him.
Yet, I consider it anyway.
Truthfully, I can’t explain why I want to trust him. Maybe because he just admitted to having feelings for me.
