“I’m sorry too, Vincent,” I tell him as I pull the trigger over and over until the gun is empty.
His body is on the carpet with pools of red dyeing his t-shirt. The scarlet liquid of the few bullets that met their mark pools together until his torso is one large, sticky mass.
My tears run freely. Sob after choked sob escapes me. Running to his corpse, I say a silent prayer to a God I don’t know, begging him. I don’t know what for. Surely not to save Vincent. Maybe to forgive me.
I close his eyes, letting him rest in peace. His beautiful face was left unscathed. Looking at it, I could convince myself he just passed out on the carpet again. But the stench of sulfur hits my nose, pushing me into drive.
I dig his car keys out of his bloody pocket and bring them to the safe in our room. I’ve never seen the inside of it, but the numerous stacks of hundreds surprises me. I load them all into my packed duffle bag, not even counting the tens, if not hundreds, of thousands of dollars.
Then I take the keys and my bag to his car and drive to the nearest bus stop with the fake identification I already procured. I keep traveling and never look back. I don’t let myself dwell on what I had to do. And I let myself forget. I forget Vincent. I forget Mississippi. And I forget my great sin.
Blinking back to reality, I feel dampness on my cheek. Bringing my shaking hands up, I realize they’re tears. The first ones I’ve allowed myself to shed over the murder I committed.
“Lizzy, you did what you had to do. You saved yourself.” Bash grips my hands and kisses them. It’s as though he’s cleaning the death from them. Purifying them. How could a man so pure ever understand.
“You don’t hate me?” I scarcely let myself believe.
“Of course not, angel. You’re still my Lizzy Lewis. You’re so strong. You did what many can’t. And I’m proud of you.” He slowly wraps his arms around me, giving me time to pull away. When I don’t, he plants me on his lap.
I succumb to his warmth and let him hold me.
“Thank you, Bash,” I lean back and whisper. I search his eyes, and when I find no hesitation, I lean forward.
But he dodges my kiss, and my world crumbles around me. He doesn’t want me anymore.
“I’m sorry. I–”
“It’s not you.” He stops me, not allowing me to apologize. “I have to be honest with you now. I’m so sorry for what I’m about to confess.”
He looks down in shame, but I know nothing can make me dislike this man. I love him too much.
Chapter 30
Sebastian
My self-hatred is at an all-time high knowing that what I’m about to confess will snuff out the light of hope in her eyes. Her doubt that what I have to tell her will be life-altering is evident in the way that she stays in my lap. My trusting angel.
Dragging in a deep breath, I do a round of box breathing the way Cecilia taught me. But it’s not helping. At least not enough. Because once she knows what I’ve done, she’ll never forgive me.
Cupping her face with both my hands, I greedily pull her in and steal a kiss I don’t deserve. I kiss her like never before. If this is our last kiss, then I need it to be one I’ll be able to savor for the rest of my life. She responds to my kiss eagerly, and that only adds to the pang in my chest.
Eventually, she pulls back but keeps her arms wrapped around my neck. “Bash, you can tell me anything. You don’t have to be nervous.”
Picking her up, I drag her off my lap and place her next to me on the couch. She doesn’t fight me, thinking I’m the one who needs space. But the distance is for her. Once she knows, she won’t want to be touching me.
“Six years ago…” I inhale raggedly. “Six years ago, I saw an angel. The most beautiful woman I’d ever laid eyes on. My world shifted on its axis at first sight of her. She was saving a skink from the side of the building.”
She gasps, immediately knowing who my angel is. “Six years?” she asks in a mystified voice.
“Six years,” I confirm. “Despite every ounce of reason telling me not to, I followed her home. I couldn’t stop myself. I… I broke into her home. Watched her sleep. I came back every day for two weeks. Did deep research on her. Then bought the house behind hers so I could always be close by.” I can’t look at her and see the horror that must be on her face. Her silence is my only gift.
“I’ve been obsessed with you for six years, angel. Stalking you. Protecting you. Carefully cultivating every aspect of your life. It’s all been me. I justified it by telling myself that I’ve just been keeping you safe, watching over you, but that’s not true. I’ve done so much out of my selfish love for you.”
She’s quiet, so I stay silent, giving her time to process everything. When she finally speaks, it’s in soft wonder. “You love me?”
My head whips in her direction as my heart races for a new reason. “What?” How is that what she’s focusing on?
“You just said you ‘did so much out of your selfish love for me.’ So, you love me? Is that what you’re saying?” There’s something akin to hope and, dare I say, excitement in her voice.
