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I’d almost killed him.
I’d never given much thought to how different things might have been if Dad had called it in. It was self-defense: Kane had attacked me, and I’d defended myself. No judge could dispute that. I was also a minor at the time, which meant if the truth came out about our relationship, Kane could be charged with statutory rape.
But we didn’t know if Kane would survive.
Until Dad arrived and said he was breathing, I thought I’d killed him. He knew that in a place like Montecito, the gossipmongers would latch onto the first sniff of a scandal and burn it into the town’s history. It wouldn’t just blow over. It would stay with me. Follow me around like a bad smell, and people would forever remember me asthatgirl. That would be my legacy.
Dad might have been the law, but he knew the law couldn’t protect me from the claws of the gossip-hungry socialites of Montecito. And, in the end, he made a choice.
To protect me.
To erase any connection between me and Kane. But something plagued my thoughts. Something Kane had said.
“Your daddy brought you right home for me.”
If my suspicions were right, Kane meant he was from Credence. But it didn’t make sense—how did he end up in Montecito, and me here? And why was I kept out of the loop again? Dad had kept Kane’s recovery a secret from me… What else had he hidden in hopes of protecting me?
My cold body ached, heavy with the weight of Kane’s arms wrapped around me, holding me captive. I shuffled, trying to put some feeling back into my legs. He roused, grumbling something, his hot breath hitting my shoulder.
“So many nights I’ve dreamed of waking up like this with your body next to mine.” His lips pressed to my skin, and a full body shiver zipped through me.
But it wasn’t the good kind, the kind I felt when Evan touched me. It was the kind that made you feel like a thousand tiny ants were crawling underneath your skin.
“Kane, we need to get out of here. I’m cold and tired, and my head hurts.” The pain had numbed into a dull throb, making it difficult to focus.
“Shh, everything’s going to be fine. We’re together now.”
“Where will we go? My family will be worried.”Evan will be worried. “How long have we been out here? Where are we, Kane?” The questions wouldn’t stop. They poured out of me like a desperate jumble of words.
Kane lifted me as if I weighed nothing more than a feather and dropped me back onto the cold floor while he stood, stretching his arms above his head and stretching his neck from side to side. “Stop talking. I need to think… I need to figure this out.”
It hit me. He didn’t have a plan or an endgame. His mind didn’t work like that. He was impulsive, driven by need, and what I only assumed were deep-rooted mental issues. High one minute, low the next, Kane wasn’t in control of the situation—his unhinged thoughts were.
I scrambled up, but my sore body protested, and my legs gave out underneath me. How long had I been out? Had he done something to me? Drugged me to keep me compliant? Something felt wrong. Why wouldn’t my goddamn legs work? “Kane, what did you do?”
He stopped pacing and crouched down, his eyes cutting to mine. His fingers reached out, grazing my jaw and sliding up my tender cheek. “I hurt you.”
“Please, just let me go.”
“Never. You’re mine, Becca. Let me make it better.” Kane inched his face closer, his hungry gaze on my mouth.
No.
I pressed back against the wall, turning my head away from him. A feral growl filled the room, and I waited for it.
One.
Two.
Three…
“Shit,” he roared. It was so guttural, so pained that my body went rigid. “Fuck. I didn’t mean to… You just looked so beautiful, like an angel, and I wanted to have a chance to talk. To make you see that we belong together.”
Slowly, I turned and met his eyes, my face damp with tears. “This is wrong, and you know it is.” He felt remorse. I could see it. “Kane,please.”
He didn’t move. No words passed between us. He just watched, moving his eyes over my face like he was searching for something. Something I could never give him. Kane was sick. He needed help. My fingers reached for him, dancing across his face until my palm lay flat against the stubble on his jaw.
It was hard to believe he was twenty-five. He looked so vulnerable, so unsure, barely resembling the self-assured guy I’d met all those months ago in Montecito.
