Page 20 of Destroyed With You

“It’s the truth. Every day since that horrible day in Hades, I’ve tried to get you out of my head.” I lick my lips, knowing I’m revealing too much, but dammit, he deserves to know. Or maybe I just want to soothe a little bit of my own guilt. “Every day, I’ve failed.”

“If you’re looking for sympathy, you’re looking in the wrong place.”

“I know.” I run my sweaty palms over my bare hips then look down at the carpeting.

The truth is, I betrayed him. I hurt him. And if I could heal those wounds, I would. It was necessary, but that doesn’t make the pain any less. And though my heart ached for what we couldn’t have, I know that the pain he suffered cut so much deeper.

I can’t tell him that, though. Not the truth of it. But even if I could, what would it matter? We can never get back what we lost. Hell, we were never supposed to have it in the first place. We were always living on borrowed time. I’m just the only one of the two of us who knew it.

That cold reality has haunted me for years. I used to believe the pain couldn’t get worse, but now I know that I’d been a fool. I’m alive, after all. Before tonight, he’d loved a memory.

But now…

Well, now I’ve left him with nothing at all. Nothing except a deep void to be filled with hate and regret and sorrow.

I let the pain and the memories wash over me, then lift my head and focus again on that gun. “Why are you here?” I force my voice to break, wanting to sound scared. Desperate. Honestly, it’s not that hard. “Did you track me down? Is that why you have a gun? Did you go back to police work? Did you come here to—to hurt me?”

For a moment, his eyes are hard. The he scoffs and shakes his head. “I’m not a cop, but I still carry. You’ve seen what I’ve seen—all the crime, your wife murdered—well, carrying a gun doesn’t seem like overkill.”

“No pun intended?” I tease, trying for a light tone.

I must succeed at least a little, because I see his mouth twitch.

“Did you come here looking for me?”

He looks me right in the eyes. “I’ve thought you were dead for years. I saw you, and I was shocked. It couldn’t be you. How could my dead wife be alive? But there you were, just sitting there in the hotel bar.”

“A coincidence.” The word brushes softly over my lips, so sweet I can almost taste it. He didn’t know. He didn’t come here to find me. “You just happened to be in town?”

He shrugs. “On business.”

“Which is?”

“Would you believe I consult on movies?”

“Really?”

He shrugs again, looking a little embarrassed. “Small town sheriff. Lots of TV shows and movies want to make it seem real.”

I nod, relieved he’s only living the Hollywood version of law enforcement. “Must be fun.”

“I think we just hit the limit on small talk.”

“Right.” I manage a smile. “So you saw me in the bar, then followed us up to the room. The Winston I knew before would have waltzed over to our table and had it out with me.”

“I’m not the man you knew before.” There’s something hollow in his voice when he says that. Something that makes me very, very sad.

I swallow. “No, I suppose you’re not.”

He shoves his free hand into his pocket, his eyes looking everywhere before finally settling on me. “When I first saw you, just sitting there with the asshole who bolted, I was sure it couldn’t be you. You’re dead, right? My wife’s been dead for years. But I followed, anyway. My gut knew what my mind didn’t want to admit. And when I knocked on the door and the asshole told me your name was —well. That was a dead giveaway, wasn’t it?”

“No pun intended?” I say, hoping for another hint of laughter from this overused joke. But there’s no reaction this time. None at all. Instead, he just stares me down.

“Michelle Moon,” he says. “That asshole you came here to fuck said your name was Michelle Moon.”

He says the name like it’s a betrayal. Which, of course, he thinks it is. You’re the moon to my Starr,” he used to tease me. And as for Michelle…

“I’m truly sorry about that.” The words come out in a whisper. “When you heard it, you must have thought—”