Total pages in book: 56
Estimated words: 54572 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 273(@200wpm)___ 218(@250wpm)___ 182(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54572 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 273(@200wpm)___ 218(@250wpm)___ 182(@300wpm)
Nita. She stepped into me and wrapped her arms around my waist, pressing her face against my chest. I didn’t move at first. Then, mechanically, I lifted one hand and rested it on her back.
She trembled. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered.
I stared over her head at the loose dirt where the headstone would be placed. “Me too.”
Nita pulled back just enough to look at me. Her eyes were swollen, red-rimmed. “Char is here,” she said softly. My gaze shifted automatically. Char stood a few yards away under the bare branches of a tree, a black coat hanging off her like she’d lost weight she couldn’t afford to lose. Her hair was pulled back, her face pale. And even from this distance, I could see the fading bruises along her throat.
They were darker now, the way bruises did when the body tried to heal. But the shape was still there.
Fingerprints.
A memory stamped into skin.
Char’s eyes found mine. She looked like she was trying to decide whether she was allowed to come closer. Like she was afraid of what I might be now. I took one step toward her. She flinched. That flinch hit me harder than any bullet ever had.
I stopped, breathing slow through my nose. Char moved first, closing the distance with careful steps, like approaching a wild animal. When she reached me, she didn’t speak. She just looked up at me, eyes shimmering.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered hoarsely. Her voice still hadn’t recovered. Every word scraped.
I stared at her throat. I couldn’t help it. Her hand lifted instinctively, fingers brushing her collar like she wanted to hide the marks.
“I didn’t,” she started, voice breaking. “I didn’t mean for anyone to get tangled up in my mess”
“I know,” I said.
The words were flat, deadened. Char’s eyes widened slightly at my tone. Nita watched us, tension tightening her shoulders, like she was bracing for impact.
Char swallowed. “Dante.”
I finally met her gaze. And whatever she saw there made her inhale sharply, her breath catching like she’d been slapped.
Because she took a step back. Not far. Just enough to put air between us.
Fear. Not of me hurting her physically. Fear of what I might do.
My voice came out low. Quiet. “He did that to you.”
Char’s lips trembled. “Yes.”
“I watched Lamonte bleed out,” I said, and my voice didn’t shake. That was the problem. “I watched you die and come back.”
Char’s eyes filled fast. “I’m here,” she whispered. “I’m here. I’m, I don’t know, but I’m here.”
“I know,” I repeated.
But I didn’t reach for her. I didn’t comfort her. I didn’t soften. Because the softness had been buried with my best friend.
Char’s voice turned pleading. “Dante, please.”
I held her gaze. And then I said it, the thing that had been living like a blade behind my teeth since the hospital.
“He will never be a problem for anyone again.”
The sentence was calm. Almost gentle. And it was the most terrifying thing I’d ever said.
Char’s face drained of color. Her eyes went wide, pupils blown, like she’d just realized the kind of darkness grief could forge.
Nita stepped forward instantly, hand grabbing my arm. “Dante,” she hissed. “Don’t. Don’t do something you can’t take back.”
I looked at Nita like she was speaking a language I didn’t understand.
“You can’t,” Nita’s voice shook. “I know you’re hurting, I know you’re—this isn’t you.”
I exhaled slowly, eyes still on Char. Char’s mouth opened like she wanted to speak but didn’t know what words could hold this moment.
Nita tightened her grip. “Dante, please.”
I turned my head toward her, just enough to meet her eyes.
“I lost my best friend,” I stated, voice even. “And I can’t ever get him back.”
Nita’s eyes filled with fresh tears. “Dante.”
“Too late, Nita.” The words were cold. “Do me a solid and take care of your sister.”
Nita’s face crumpled. “What are you saying?”
I looked back at Char. “I don’t know what could have been. We’ll never know. I’ll never be the man I was before and you deserve a man who can give you everything I can’t anymore. Live a good life Charlaina. Live a life full for Lamonte. Live a life free because the last thing I’ll do is make sure he can’t ever get to you again. You’re free, Char. Make it count.”
She stood very still, like if she moved the world might collapse. Her bruises were fading, but they were still there. Proof of what had happened. Proof of what he’d done. Her eyes were wet, scared, exhausted. And still—still she looked at me like she wanted to hold onto whatever part of me was left.
I stepped closer.
Char didn’t step back this time.
I lifted my hand slowly, fingertips brushing her cheek.
Her skin was cold from the wind.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
I shook my head once. “Don’t be.” Then I leaned in and pressed my mouth to hers.
It wasn’t hungry.