Page 132 of Does It Hurt?


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“You are a thief, baby. You stole my name, and now you’ve taken my heart, too. Demand anything else from me, and I’ll give it to you.”

“I don’t dese—”

He grabs me by the jowls, roughly pinching my cheeks into my teeth. “Being loved by me will hurt like hell.It’s everything you deserve.”

Then, he declares passionately, “I love you, and you will love me.”

I’m convinced I’m dying, yet it’s the happiest I’ve ever been.

“I do. I do love you,” I respond, almost on autopilot. Of course, it comes out jumbled and feels funny, considering my cheeks are still crushed between his fingers, and I have fish lips.

But it’s worth it because it pulls another full-forced smile on his face as he releases me. And again, my chest is caving in, and I’ve forgotten how to breathe.

For whatever reason, he’s ready to forgive me. But I haven’t earned that yet. Not until he knows everything.

The happiness slips from my face, and when he notices my change in demeanor, his does, too.

“What’s wrong,bella?”

“I killed him,” I whisper.

Enzo jerks back in shock. “What?”

I bite my lip, gathering the little courage I possess.

“I killed Kevin,” I say again.

His mouth parts, and it takes him a few beats to catch on to what I’m saying.

“You said he was after you.”

I shake my head, tears once more burning the backs of my eyes. “Thepoliceare after me—his friends. Not because I steal identities or because Kev is trying to find me, but because I killed a cop. I murdered my twin brother.”

Chapter 30

Sawyer

Six Years Ago

I jump the moment I hear the front door slam. He likes to joke and call out, 'Honey, I'm home!’ But today, there's only silence.

It's unnerving, and I'm instantly on high alert. There's a gas leak in my muscles, tension slowly filling them with poison. My stomach churns as footsteps start on the steps, traveling closer and closer.

“Sawyer?” Kevin calls. In a span of seconds, I dissect each syllable and inflection in his tone, searching for a hint of what mood he's in.

“In here,” I call, attempting to sound pleasant.

It's summer break from my college classes, and the only thing keeping me away from home—from him—is my job at the library.

But of course, today is my day off, and I’m now considering calling Mrs. Julie and asking to pick up a shift.

I’m sitting on my bed, sifting through a thriller novel. I don't even know what it's about anymore; I lost track fifty pages ago and I’m on page fifty-four.

Kev creaks open the door, walking in without waiting for permission. Not that he’s ever asked.

He’s still in uniform, sans the belt with his gun and Taser. The sight sickens me. He parades as a savior—a protector—but the only thing that uniform represents is my inability to stop him from hurting me.

The energy in the room instantly shifts, plummeting quicker than when a roller coaster crests the top of the hill.

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