Page 102 of Toxic Kiss

At one point, seeing her cry like this would have filled me with joy. Now it hurts so much that I may as well be on all fours with her. Her shoulders are shaking, and her nails scrape against the concrete as if she’s trying to claw her way out of her own skin.

Jesus Christ.

I crouch beside her and pull her into my arms. She doesn’t seem to notice me. For a second, she doesn’t even react. Her body just folds against mine like she’s too exhausted to resist. I pick her up and hold her tight as I kiss the top of her head.

“It’s going to be okay,” I murmur, brushing damp hair away from her face. “Easy, Butterfly.”

Her whole body trembles. The sound coming out of her is broken, and my chest aches with a sharp pain right over my heart.

I did this.

Maybe Charles lit the match, but I’m the bastard who handed her the gasoline.

“Shh,” I whisper against her temple, carrying her to my bedroom.

She doesn’t protest. Doesn’t even look at me. Her face presses against the side of my neck as she tries to hide from the pain.

I set her gently on the bed, and she immediately curls toward the nearest pillow, clutching it to her chest like it’s the only solid thing left in the universe.

Her cries subside, but they still hit me in waves, each one worse than the last. I’m at a loss as to what to do.

She finally turns her head and glares at me. The agony in her green eyes stops my next breath.

“Are you happy now? You got what you always wanted.”

She gasps for air, scrubbing at the tears on her face, as if they have offended her as much as I have.

I shake my head.

“I bet you’re dancing inside, seeing me break. It took you twelve years of torment, but you’ve finally done it.”

She wipes at her wet cheek and then runs her hand down my stomach, leaving my t-shirt damp.

“There you go. There are the tears you’ve worked so hard for. They’re all yours,” she says.

“No, Haven. It’s not like that.”

“Liar!”

She gets on all fours, her face a mask of fury.

“I mean it. That’s not why I did this.”

She lunges, fists coming for my chest, and I let her pound them against me. I deserve much worse.

“Lies! Lies! Lies! Stop lying to me.”

Grabbing her wrists, I force her to stop. She struggles against my hold, wailing like a back-alley cat, and then just as fast as it started, she stops.

“I never should’ve come back here,” she says, voice so low and lost that terror grips me.

My arms wrap around her, and I hold her tight, rocking her.

“Don’t say that.”

“It’s true. I’m a fool,” she says.

“No, you’re not. He is. Charles is, and I am, but not you.”