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A smile played on his lips. “They say the note on the kitchen table was a confession, but not his.”
He took another breath and looked out the front windshield again. Everyone revered Edward because they thought he took the fall to save the team’s season. Save some kids their college scholarships and a coach his job.
I always thought it was moronic. Edward clearly didn’t understand all that life could throw at you. He had far bigger things to survive than a scandal.
But I liked the way Will told it. Like nothing was what it seemed, and there was a story waiting to be unearthed.
After all, no one really knew what happened out at the Point all those decades ago.
“I like it here,” he almost whispered. “I like mystery. Sometimes I’m dying to know what happened that night, and other times, I hope I never find out, because it’s more interesting this way. Reality always disappoints.” He turned to me. “I think that’s why I’ve always liked this time of day best. People hide in the dark. They quench their thirsts in the dark. They build their secrets in the dark. We’re more ourselves here than anywhere else. I get to be me...” he swallowed, staring at me, “when nightfall is coming.”
I gazed into his dark green eyes, his whole face enshadowed in the cab of the truck, and I wanted…
Every nerve on my lips hummed, feeling the weight between us like each end of a string tied around him and me, and it kept getting shorter.
I want…
“We want what we want,” he whispered.
I dropped my eyes to my lap, fisting my hands.
And then his voice came again, barely audible, “Come here,” he said.
My heart dipped into my belly, and I could feel him in my hands. I looked at him, seeing him grind the steering wheel under his fist and breathing hard
“Come here,” he said again.
I absently shook my head. “Why?”
“Because I’m your man.”
My heart cracked and splintered, aching with the warmth of those stupid words. Who the hell was he, huh? He didn’t get to decide that someone belonged to him just because it struck his fancy.
And that’s all I was. A passing fancy. He didn’t listen, and he didn’t take no for an answer.
If I let this happen—let him love me and protect me and all that shit he spewed—I’d just be trading one abuse for another.
He’d use me, dump me, and I’d be worse off for it.
I’d be shattered.
“Take me home,” I demanded.
He blinked, but didn’t move otherwise.
I unlocked my door, yanked the handle, and pushed my door open, jumping out.
I’d walk then. Fuck you.
Slamming the door, I heard his open on the other side, and he’d rounded the car and stopped me in my tracks before I even made it to the tailgate.
“Why are you afraid of me?” he barked, backing me up.
“Why did you tell me that story?” I retorted.
“Why do you think?”
“To prove again what I already know?” I yelled. “That Thunder Bay boys always get away with it.”
