“Is it true?” she asked, waiting with expectant, big eyes.
Yes, it was true, but I didn’t know which answer would hurt more. The truth? Or the lie?
“It’s complicated,” I settled on, knowing it was a bullshit answer, yet I didn’t care, but that didn’t stop her from calling me out.
She touched the pendant dangling between her plump breasts, my eyes unable to stop from appreciating how perfect they were. I’d wanted to kiss them in the cellar. Turned out that desire still lived within me.
“That’s not an answer.”
“No,” I admitted, lifting my eyes to her face. She really did have a stunning face, and the moonlight bathing her through the car windows gave her a goddess glow. “It’s not.”
“Do you love her?”
That I couldn’t answer, because the truth was, I didn’t know if what I felt for Kaylor was love or obligation or guilt wrapped up in history I couldn’t change. I thought I loved her, but now I wasn’t sure I knew what the hell love was. I knew it shouldn’t be fucking this complicated. “You should go inside,” I stated instead, deflecting. “Lock your doors. Don’t answer if anyone knocks.”
She reached for the door handle, but before she climbed out, she turned back, her eyes stormy. “Whatever’s complicated about your life, Maddox, I’m not afraid of it. I’m not afraid ofyou.”
The words hit harder than they should have.
Then she was gone, slipping out into the night as she hurried toward the porch. I watched until she was inside, until I saw the lights come on through the windows and she was safe.
Or as safe as anyone could be in this damn town.
I put the truck in reverse and headed back toward the church because whoever had written that message had been there, and I wanted a name, a real fucking name I could put to a face so I could smash it.
19
MALLORY
The front door shut behind me, and I slid the lock into place, not because Maddox told me to but because it was an ingrained habit. He might believe he was dangerous, but on the evil scale, I ranked him on the lower end.
Kicking my boots off in the entryway, I was dying to get this dress off, and that was when I noticed I was still wearing his hoodie. Despite my mixed feelings about him, I was secretly glad he hadn’t asked for it back. There was something so comfortable about a worn, oversized sweatshirt. His scent clung to the material.
I padded down the hallway toward the kitchen for a drink of water before I headed to my room, but when I reached the archway, I froze, going stiff.
A knife sat on the counter.
And the blade looked…wet, a red substance coating the steel.
A dozen emotions ricocheted inside me. My head shook. I didn’t want to believe it was blood. I didn’t want to believe it happened again.
No.
No, no, no.
The plea echoed in my ears as I stood paralyzed in place, my phone sliding out of my fingers to hit the floor with a thud. My brain scrambled to catch up with what my eyes were seeing, fighting against the evidence, searching desperately for another explanation. The night replayed in pieces. I tried to remember if the Volvo had been in the driveway when Maddox dropped me off.
Had it?
I honestly couldn’t remember. I hadn’t been paying attention to anything but him. He had that annoying effect on me.
Panic clawed up my throat chokingly.
What if she’d hurt someone?
What if it washim, the guy Mom had been seeing? My breath caught halfway into my lungs, refusing to go any deeper. I was inching my way toward another panic attack. As if one tonight hadn’t been enough. I pictured her faceless boyfriend on our kitchen floor, blood creeping across the white tile in dark rivulets, my mom standing over him with that calm, terrifying focus she got when she was already too far gone to stop.
Bending down, I scooped up my phone, and, slowly, like I was wading into deep water, I moved into the kitchen. My eyes kept dashing to the floor near the other side of the island, waiting to see shoes, a foot, or a hand reaching out from behind the counter.
