I sigh and drag a hand down my face, thinking back.
“I started keeping track of you about three years after I got out of prison. Waiting for the right moment. There was too much going on for a long time to make a move. Then things settled and you finally divorced. But Bones had a different plan, he wanted to wait longer. At first, I agreed.” I pause. Breathe. “But then you started dating,” I grit out, the words like barbed wire down my throat. “I got angry. Antsy. I don’t fucking know. I worked like hell, found a lead strong enough to keep Bones busy with Temperance, and then I took my chance.”
She inhales sharply. Fury pools in her eyes.
“Ghost,” she growls. “I dated three men during the two years I lived on my own. They all disappeared. Theyghostedme.” She slaps the dashboard. “Did you have anything to do with that?”
I wince. Fuck my life with all this honesty shit.
I swallow hard and accept my fate. “They weren’t good enough for you if all it took to scare them off was some guy with a gun,” I shrug.
An enraged sound fills the entire van. She claws my shoulder, nails digging into the leather of my cut, and leans in.
“You should know, I got to fuck the last guy,” she hisses, eyes like knives trying to pierce my skull.
“I know,” I snap, grabbing the side of her neck and pulling her closer. “It’s what finally drove me over the fucking edge!”
Her other hand grabs my jaw but fails to shake me. “You’re a fucking lunatic,” she spits, then yanks herself back, breathing ragged.
I slump in my seat and throw my head against the headrest.
“Wish I could say I’m sorry,” I mumble, rubbing at my eyes. “But I’m not. I’m not fucking sorry.” I stare at her. “All those men were shit. If they hadn’t run like cowards, I would’ve fucking killed them.”
The moment my brain processes all the words I just said, a hopeless groan leaves my chest. I was clearly both too stupid and too fucking cocky to realize that she had me by the balls even before the dungeon. Idiot.
I decide to stop talking and incriminate myself further. She doesn’t say anything either. Just glares at me for minute after minute, working the muscles in her jaw, lips pressed together, fingers flexing in her lap. Maybe she’s coming to terms with how truly fucked up I am. Or maybe she’s trying not to bite my throat out. Either way, not great for me.
Finally she inhales, exhales huge, and the glare softens a fraction. A tiny fraction.
“I. Am. Furious,” she says, each word a growl. “But I appreciate the honesty.” That tone doesn’t sound very appreciative.
She closes her eyes for a moment and takes another calming breath.
When her gaze finds mine again, there’s uncertainty there. Her teeth scrape her bottom lip — harder this time, like she’s afraid of what’s coming next.
“We can continue this some other time if you want,” I murmur, frowning at her obvious distress.
“No.” She shakes her head quickly, dismissing the idea. “It took me a long time to gather the courage to start this conversation. I want all the information now.”
Her glare returns suddenly. “I need to make at least some sense of why you went so far. I don’t think it’ll make it easier to accept, but I have to know why.”
There are tears in the corners of her eyes now. The deep sorrow on her face feels like a knife slicing me open.
“Why did you have sex with me that morning, Ghost? What the fuck were you thinking? Did you really need to do that for your revenge?”
I can almost taste the pain in her voice. I can almost touch her grief in the air between us. Against every instinct and rational thought inside me, I close my eyes and let my mind sink back into the memory of the day I killed her. And myself.
“The sound of Bowie’s name from your lips… it was like a gunshot. A silent bomb that threw me out of my body,” I start, voice low. “I was gone, and only the monster remained. I was just watching from the sidelines.”
When I open my eyes, the darkness outside seems deeper than before.
“I’m not making excuses. I know that monster is me.”
I glance at her, voice dropping to a whisper. “Unfortunately, I don’t have some magically right answer for that question.”
A single tear stains her cheek. I want to reach out and wipe it away, but I know she wouldn’t want me touching her right now. So I just keep talking.
“I remember wanting a final memory. And I remember saying goodbye to you over and over in my head. The words were on repeat the whole time.” I pause, forcing myself to keep it together.
