Page 137 of His Wicked Revenge

“What’s the story with stargazing? When did you get into it?” I ask with my eyes still on the sky. It is too pretty to look away.

“When I was younger, I got picked on at school. I told my mother because I told her everything, and she wanted to take my mind off it. She would pack a basket full of my favorite foods and snacks, and we would sit in the backyard.”

My head falls to the side to look at him. A sad smile forms on his lips.

“She would make me laugh, telling jokes or stories to take my mind off everything, but still somehow told me how special I was. That the kids picking on me didn’t matter because I was the smartest and kindest kid she had ever met.”

I squeeze his hand tighter as he takes a moment to collect himself.

“She told me they were jealous of that. About how smart I was. And that they hated how kind I was because they didn’t know how to be. She said their parents must not be kind to them because of the way the kids treated others. Since I was young, I didn’t understand what she said because I thought they were just being mean. It wasn’t until I got older that I understood.”

“What made you understand?”

“In high school, I had a group of friends, and one of them was a bully. One day, he invited me over, and I saw how his dad acted towards him. The things his father would say were a copy of what he would say to taunt the kids at school.” He sighs. “I tried helping him, but he didn’t want it. He got angry and pushed me away. I never spoke to him again.”

“Is that when you knew you wanted to be a doctor? Because you wanted to help him?”

I hadn’t noticed his thumb had been caressing the back of my hand until it stopped.

“I always knew I wanted to help people in some way. Seeing how his home life mentally affected him made me steer more toward the psychology of it all.”

A career he wanted his whole life, ripped away by my stupid decision.

“Thank you for tonight.” I change the subject since it’s getting too sad for a date. “You didn’t have to do all this, especially with being angry at me.”

His head drops to the side, eyes practically staring into my soul.

“I’m trying, Vee,” he tells me before smiling and sitting up.“But the night isn’t over! We still need to dance.”

“Dance? Don’t you remember at the wedding? I stepped on your feet like ten times in thirty seconds.” My hands meet the blanket beneath me, and I push myself up to sit.

“It’s just us out here. What, you think the trees are going to judge you?” He chuckles as he stands up. Leaving me for the car, he turns the key in the ignition and blasts the radio.

A slow song begins to play, one that I’ve never heard before. The doors remain open as he walks back to me. Leo holds his hand out for me to take. I stare at it for a moment before losing the battle.

I grab his hand, and he pulls me up, pressing my body to his. We sway for a few minutes, but then he gets fancy and twirls me. I laugh as I spin, and I don’t miss the grin plastered on his face.

“You’re not as bad as you think you are.” He laughs with me, twirling me back into him.

He catches me with ease, my body molding against his perfectly. I lay my head on his chest while we sway as the song rolls into the next. A content feeling takes over my body until I misstep, and my foot lands on his toes.

“Sorry.” My face scrunches.

“It’s fine,” he reassures me with an unreassuring tone.

Pulling my head back, I glance up at him. “Maybe we can have dance lessons where you can teach me how to get better.”

He hums while staring over my head and dropping his hand from my waist. “That won’t happen.”

“And why not? You won’t want to take the time to teach me? I promise I won’t be a bad student,” I joke.

Leo laughs, but it isn’t because he thought what I said was funny. No, his laugh is humorless, and I go still when his eyes flick down to me. Those green eyes that have been soft and playful the whole night have now turned as dark as the night sky.

“Because this is our last dance.”

Confusion lines my face. What does he mean? Am I that bad of a dancer that he doesn’t want to do this again? I go to laugh, but then I feel something sharp press against my stomach. And when I look down, there is a knife between us.

“Leo?” His name comes out as a question as I stare at the knife.