Page 53

I was just a librarian. I organized books, checked them in and out, and helped old people find large-print novels. The most excitement was when the library got new releases or when Mrs. Grimes finally returned her months-overdue books.

And now? There’s blood on my hands, not physically now, but the imprint of them stays. So many lives taken because of me and for me. The bitter taste of the cigarette is nothing compared to the harshness that twists in my body.

The glass door next to me slides open, and I hear Preston before I see him. He clears his throat, the sound heavy in the night. A noise I’d grown to recognize in the quiet spaces of the library before all of this.

“What are you doing out here?” he asks, almost cautiously.

I shake my head, not quite ready to meet his look. Another pull from the cigarette, the cherry lighting my face in hellish red.

“None of your business. I really do hate you. I know it may not seem like it after that, but I do.” I barely feel the words escape from my mouth.

He chuckles, “I don’t think you do.”

“No? The only thing I know about you is that you’re a murderer, so yeah, I do. And everything I thought I knew about you, I learned before this. I mean, you told me you were studying for college every day, so excuse me for hating a liar, too. You’ve taken over my fucking mind and my life, and I hate it.”

I finally turn to look at him. Even in the darkness, I can see the sharp lines of his face; the way the shadows carve out his cheekbones. He’s beautiful in the way dangerous things often are.

“I keep thinking about how I want to make you suffer. I want to hurt you the same way you’ve hurt me. But you… I don’t know, every time I think I’m on the path to doing it, you ruin me even more.”

Preston moves, settling down in front of me, mirroring my position against the opposite railing. His long legs stretch out in front of mine, and I’m struck by how normal this feels.

His hand reaches out for my cigarette, and without thinking, I hand it to him, our fingers brushing in the exchange. I watch the scarlet ember light his face; fitting that it makes him resemble the devil himself.

“What do you want to know about me? I’ll give you the one-hundred percent honest truth.”

“I… don’t even know.”

He’s quiet for a second before exhaling, the smoke mixing with it in the cold air.

“I lost my mom when I was eight, when my sister was just a few months old. She couldn’t take it anymore. They said it was postpartum depression, but honestly, I think it was so much more than that. She was always fragile. I’ll give it to her that she always tried her damnedest, but she wasn’t okay, and nobody knew how to help her back then. My brother and I were strong-willed spoiled brats; my dad worked the majority of the day and didn’t want to deal with us at night—all of that mixed with the new baby… I understand why she did it.”

I find myself holding my breath, afraid that any sound might make him stop talking.

“My dad tried to raise us after that, but the business was everything to him. It was his way of forgetting about his problems, or at least, throwing money at them. Then, once she died, he really threw himself into work even more, so he didn’t have to face the space Mom left behind. We had nannies, and an endless parade of them at that, because I’d always do my best to scare them away so my dad would have to come home. They’re not parents, you know? They’re just people paid to keep you alive until bedtime.”

The cigarette burns down between my fingers as I listen, and I realize how much I was actually seeing Preston. Not a dangerous man who calls himself Ghost, but it’s like I’m looking at the eight-year-old boy who lost his mother and never really found his way back to solid ground.

“And then my dad died a few years ago. Heart attack at fifty-two. Left me with everything: the business, the responsibilities, and the weight of the inheritance he’d left behind. I was twenty-five and all of a sudden responsible for hundreds of people’s livelihoods, for debts, and thousands of decisions I wasn’t ready to make. On top of that, Ellie was only seventeen at the time. Robert and I obviously failed at making sure she turned out okay.”

I watch his profile, his sharp nose wrinkling when particularly bad memories fill his brain, shaking his head in disappointment at himself.

“I was finishing college, watching my classmates worry about exams and internships while I was doing that, and learning about running a whole fucking business while also taking care of my family. I felt I was destined to end up like my mother. The pressure, the isolation. I really leaned on Robert and Ellie until they were too busy for me, too.”

Like a gut punch, it hits me that I’ve really stolen the only two people he had. Whatever justification I’ve built up in my mind crumbles in the face of that simple, devastating truth.

“And then I met you.” He smiles, his head rolling across the rail to look at me.

His intense, honey stare makes my ability to breathe stop dead in its tracks. I don’t know what to say, how to process this man and his many identities. I pick at the skin around my thumbnail absentmindedly, the weight of everything he’s saying to me pressing down.

He takes the butt from me, scraping it on the ground beside him, leaving us only in the blue-black darkness of the night.

“You’ve lit a fire in me, Wynnie. You make me want to live, not just exist. For the first time since I was little, I’ve wanted more than just making it through another day, but you didn’t even see me.”

“I couldn’t see you.” The admission feels like peeling back layers of skin. “I was too consumed with surviving. Before the hitting even started, it was arguments, guilt trips, and manipulation. I was so worried about making things better because I loved him so much that I couldn’t see the escalation, and then when he did start hitting me, I was scared. I was just trying to keep my head above the water.”

Another spill of quiet sits between us. It’s a space where everything we have said and everything we couldn’t yet speak of hangs.

“I can’t leave you alone,” he finally says. “Not then, and certainly not now. I’d have to be dead to.”