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She was between us. She always would be.
“Sheldon,” he murmured again, softening his voice. “Please. I’m just starting to get you back. Please.”
There it was. Right there. Pain sliced through me as I said, “Maybe you were right before. Maybe what we did to Marcus put a block between us. Maybe I didn’t want to think about killing him and that meant pushing you away because you did it with me. Maybe. I don’t know, but I can’t undo that. I can’t go back. I . . .” I knew. “I choose Corrigan.”
“Sheldon!” His eyes widened. Desperation filled them. “Please.”
“I shouldn’t have to try to force myself to feel a certain way, and right now, I want to be with him.”
“Sheldon,” he whispered.
“I’m sorry.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
It was wrong. I knew the second I shut that door, but I pressed my hand against it, and I stayed there, needing it for strength. Breathe in. Breathe out. Everything was going crazy inside me, but this—choosing and saying the words—this was the craziest thing.
“Sheldon.” Corrigan sounded so timid behind me. He was uncertain.
I swung around and shook my head. “I lied to him.”
“What?” He went still.
“I lied. I’m sorry, but I did.”
“Why did you—”
I thrust an arm out, pointing in the direction of where Bryce had gone. “It’s because of him. All of this is because of him. She did it. That Maria person. There’s a text saying something about just this thing, about hurting someone and making it look like it was me. They did it.” My chest was heaving. “Because of him. So that he would stay with her, and I would go away.”
“Are you kidding? That’s what he said?”
“It’s because of him.” But even as I said that, I bit my tongue. That wasn’t true either.
Corrigan echoed my sentiments when he bit out, “That reasoning is bullshit. This is bullshit. What the fuck, Sheldon? Get your head on right—”
“I’m all screwed up!”
“Then unscrew yourself!” he shouted right back at me. “Yes, there’s a psychotic person out there—”
I interrupted, my heart pounding, “Who killed Grace because of him! To hurt me! Because of him, because Guadalupe wanted him. Not because of me. Do you have any idea how Grace’s death has been weighing on me?” My voice shook. “She haunts me, Corrigan. I feel her everywhere with me. It’s like she’s watching me, judging me that I’m not finding out who killed her fast enough.”
That could all be over. If it were true, if it had really been Maria . . . would she leave then?
“Sheldon.”
I closed my eyes against the pity I heard from him. Gritting my teeth, I wanted to yell at him. I tried to muster up the courage. I wasn’t to be pitied. I wasn’t weak. I wasn’t a victim, but when I opened my mouth to throw some blistering retort back, there was nothing.
I was empty.
Then I felt the tears. The first one welled up and clung to my eye, right on the corner. It held strong. I grinned, even my damn tear was too stubborn to fall.
“Sheldon.” Corrigan moved closer behind me.
I held my breath, but whispered, “Don’t.”
He rested his hand on my shoulder and kept it there. I squeezed my eyes tighter. I wouldn’t cry. No more—then they were sliding down, and I couldn’t stop them. I was crying. I was falling, and Corrigan caught me under my knees. His other hand circled around my shoulders, and he lifted me, carrying me to the bed.
To be honest, I didn’t care where he was taking me. My arms wrapped around him, and I let my forehead rest against his chest. I was back home. I was in his arms, and I felt a small sigh of contentment forming, mixing with all the hollow feelings I had going on.
