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But earlier, when he seemed hellbent to put me in my place and insist that I was his, every cell in my body screamed in revolt. No one owned me. I wasn’t a possession.
Yet, when I look up at Cruz and find his blue eyes waiting for my answer, I know that’s a lie. Once upon a time I was his and my heart soared when he’d say it because it was a possession of reciprocity. He did own me because I owned him, too.
“You answer my question,” I straighten and clear my throat. “Then I’ll answer yours.”
“Alright.” He crosses his arms. “You’re on. Shoot.”
I match his stance and look him dead in the eyes. “Why areyouhere? Why did you come all the way to Elmhurst?”
He considers the question, then takes a step toward me. “I came because the idea of you with that fucker drives me crazy. I’m here, because from the moment I stepped back into this world, you are all I can see and feel, and I need to be where you are.”
I draw in a shaky breath; his words a raw honesty I wasn’t expecting.
“He shouldn’t be the one whose arm you are on for the night,” he continues. “You’re too good for him. For all of them. And when I saw him with his hand on you, and heard what he said…” He reaches out and brushes my cheek gently. “Fuck, Ellery, I wanted to tear him to shreds. But I knew I couldn’t.”
“Because of our parents,” I nod in understanding.
“Yes.” He drops his hand. “I would never do anything to jeopardize our agreement. But not just for them, but for you. Idon’t want to do anything that would rip you away from me a second time and starting a fight with that self-righteous asshole would do just that.”
His words reach into my chest and grab hold of the pieces of my heart that have been floating in limbo, looking for their owner. Looking for him.
These past few weeks, the kisses we’ve shared, the moments of raw intimacy, they’ve been both balm and glue to my broken heart. When I look at him it no longer hurts and I want that. I want us to be able to exist and not feel the pain of the past.
But, while it may not hurt to look at him, I do feel something, and it’s not closure. It’s far from it.
“I know you don’t want him, Ellery. I know that. But I need you to tell me the truth about Royce and why you are here with him because this,” he lifts his chin and nods in the direction of the mansion, “it isn’t you. You like the wind in your hair, and wearing jeans, and watching the sunset on the hood of my Jeep. You hated this kind of thing. You hated him. And I can’t for the life of me—”
“It has to do with my father,” I blurt out.
His eyes search mine, slightly confused by my answer. “It…what?”
Up until now, Jenica is the only one I’ve trusted enough to confide in about my father’s case being reopened and what I’m doing this summer. But I once trusted Cruz more than anyone, and I realize, I still do.
“My father,” I swallow. “I don’t think …”
The back doors swing open and Royce and his father come storming out. Grabbing Cruz’s hand quickly, I pull him into the shadows.
He wraps an arm around my waist and pulls me back against his chest, hand splayed on my stomach.
“Do you think they’re looking for you?” he whispers.
I shake my head and strain to hear what they’re saying. “Can you hear anything?”
He pulls me closer, his heart pounding against my back as my own pummels in my chest.
Royce’s dad is furious and his words appear heated, but I can’t maintain my focus to hear. As a lawyer, he’s mastered the art of hushed conversations and Cruz’s touch is burning through the satin of my gown, making my insides melt and my mind fuzzy.
When they stop talking, he grips Royce’s shoulder, then they head back inside. When they do, Cruz drops his hand and steps back.
“Okay,” I exhale and turn around. “They’re gone.”
Cruz looks toward the mansion for a moment, then back at me. “What was that about?”
The sky overhead rumbles, and the air grows thicker, as a drop of rain falls and lands on my cheek.
“Not here.” I shake my head.
“Fine.” He reaches into his front pocket and pulls out his keys. “Let’s get you home.”
