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His nerves were raw, as if he’d scratched through every layer of skin. He put more pressure on Kenna’s neck and her head thrashed into his chest.
“Give me a name.”
“Erin Wright and Charlee Pender.”
Some degree of relief flushed through Dayton. She didn’t know about Jasmine. Her boyfriend. Themess. The extent of his research.
He released her but kept her pinned against the door, permitting just enough room for her to turn around and face him. Mascara bled beneath her eyes.
“How did you find Erin?”
“Her sister’s on our trivia team.”
“Brandi?”
“So, is it true? About Erin?” Kenna gritted her teeth. “You got her pregnant and then youabandonedher?”
His fist slammed into the doorframe, inches from her face. “It wasn’t so simple.”
“Make. Me. Understand.”
She screamed the words at such a volume he feared the neighbors had overheard but the damage could not be undone. If things didn’t pan out with Kenna, perhaps he could add ‘domestic disturbance’ to his roster of romantic memories.
And so Dayton shouted.
“There are things about me you don’t know.”
“You don’t think I realize that? Why do you think I’m doing all of this? The truth is, Dayton, the more I uncover, the less I understand, and I’m terrified because I don’t know which version of you to believe.”
He put as much distance between them as the room permitted, migrating to the window. He didn’t intend to cause Kenna further harm. Their heated exchange flipped a switch and called upon the darkest recess of his soul, the part that threatened Alex and betrayed Audrey.
“I ameveryversion.”
Shouting wouldn’t aid in her understanding. It was all Dayton had. His lungs were on fire and he desperately wished for an easy way to explain the purpose of the life he led without explaining every damning act he’d committed along the way.
But Kenna’s breathing had not yet adjusted from having his hand curled around her throat and—any sane man would concur—she was in no position to believe him.
She was calm. Angelic and noble despite the smeared cosmetics.
Hand lingering on the doorknob, she looked at him, composed as ever. “No, I won’t accept that. That’s not who you are. The man those women described, the one you’re claiming to be, that isn’t the man I know.”
“You can’t swoop in with your Nancy Drew detective skills and alter a life already lived. Spare me your savior complex, kid.”
Her chin trembled. “If I can’t save you, no one can.”
Kenna left the bedroom, the echo of her retreating footsteps soon replaced by the clicking of the front door. Dayton kicked his dresser and it disturbed the purple box atop its surface, the gift he’d meant to give her. His thoughts turned to the one beneath his bed, and though the evening had not gone according to plan, he remained determined to add Kenna’s picture to the box.
Where she’d live, immortalized.
29
WHITE LACE
Kenna barely slept the following week. Studying for finals proved to be her saving grace amid the mess with Dr. Merino. The week had turned to the weekend and still she was at her desk, head bowed over an open textbook.
As she reviewed the fine art of somatic intervention, she forgot the way he’d shouted at her, forgot her lapse of judgment when she’d revealed too much, but she could not forget the crushing strength of his hand around her neck.
Kenna blamed only herself.
