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We drive in silence. I’m thankful for the quiet.
It pains me to think about Amanda’s face, her trusting eyes staring up at me from the hospital bed. Hurts my usually well-guarded heart. I told her about my mistake. About the cell. About my encounter with Joel.
And this woman who was put through hell and paid the price for my mistake placed her shaking, bruised, and swollen hand over mine. She tried to reassure me it wasn’t my fault. I admire her efforts, strength, and forgiveness, something I wish I had more of.
Tyler took that from me. I’ll never forgive him for what he did to me. He helped build the shield around my shattered heart. As broken as it is, I try to keep the shattered pieces together in a pile all in one place.
“Are you okay?” Cole says, shaking me from my thoughts.
I look down at my hands. “Yeah.”
“You know it’s not your fault, right?”
“Stop saying that.” I clamp my hands together and squeeze. “Please.”
“Harper, you need to understand that she was involved with someone evil. A weak, insecure man who hurts women to feel in control. What happened wasn’t your fault. It was his.”
“So that’s how you felt about Emily?”
His eyes flicker to me for a brief second.
I cock a brow. “You don’t blame yourself for her death?”
He turns back to the dark road. “How do you know about Emily?”
“Lix,” I whisper, feeling awful for using Cole’s tragic and heartbreaking situation to deviate from mine.
I’m a horrible person.
He shifts in the seat and grips the steering wheel.
“Yes. That’s what I thought.” I look out the window, guilt sinking in deeper. “So you know how I feel. Just let me feel it, and, like you, I’ll get through it in my own way.” I press the side of my head against the window, staring out into the darkness. “Besides, my situation is a little different. I guided her abuser right to her. He would've never found her if it weren’t for me.”
“You don’t know that,” he says in a low, raspy voice, clearing his throat afterward.
“You’re right.” I close my eyes. “And I never will.”
Chapter 13
We enter the hotel room, and I drop my keys on the table.
She’s right. Who am I to dictate how she feels?
She walks past me and stops. She turns around.
“I’m sorry.” Her eyes soften. “I shouldn’t have said that about Emily. It was a cheap shot.”
“I get it.” I cram my hands into my jean pockets.
“No.” She walks toward me. “It wasn’t fair.” She stops. Her eyes lock on my lips. “You came here with me. You’re trying to help. Thank you.” Her eyes lift to mine.
I stare at her, heart pounding hard in my chest. Her hand lifts and moves toward me, landing around the back of my neck. I lower to her mouth. My hands fist in my pockets, begging for restraint.
I can’t touch her.
My lips break apart to tell her to stop, but nothing comes out. The pressure of her warm hand draws me down to her.
Our lips meet.
