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“No.” He shakes his head, his hair still dripping wet. “If you, for one second, think this has to do with anything other than my feelings for you, you're mistaken."
“Your feelings for me?” I laugh. “Simon, you’re forced to be with me. And the only reason youthinkyou want me is because you can’t have me.”
“Is that so?” Simon stands and runs his hand over his face. “Is that why I know more about you than anyone else?”
I sigh. “Because you pay attention, that’s your job.”
“It’s my job to notice the anguish you’ve felt these last six months? That you’ve lost weight because of the stress you’re under. That you have nightmares almost every night and the only thing that stops the tremors is when I sneak into your room and hold you. It’s my job to see that you prefer the color green over anything else, and that wearing red lipstick gives you more confidence than you already have? It’s my job to recognize you have a bigger heart than you let on, and despite being this raging bitch on the outside, you’re a hopeless fucking romantic? Being alone in nature is what calms your wild mind, and holding a knife in your grasp is how you cope with losing that control to some asshole who held you hostage.”
He lowers himself back down and presses his hands around mine. “You think I don’t see the struggle when you look at me? That fleeting moment when you consider what your life would have been like if you would have met me first? You think I don’t beat myself up about it daily, knowing that I could have been the one you loved instead ofthem? You think I don’t want to blow my fucking brains out every time they touch you, knowing damn well that I’ll never be that lucky. But I choose not to because this, whatever this is, is better than nothing at all.”
“Simon, I…”
He draws in a long breath and exhales. “I would never ask you to feel the same, but do not for a moment question whether my love for you is based on something so foolish as a job position. I do not get paid for this. They’ve tried. But I refuse. I do this because I cannot stand the idea of someone else spending each day with you. There is no one else that cares more about your life than me, and I have failed you. For that, I’m so goddamn sorry, love.”
This is the moment where I finally take all those months’ worth of pent-up tension and press my lips to his and taste the sweetness of his kiss. I would wrap my fingers in his hair and let him pull me close, our bodies smashed together after what has felt like a lifetime of push and pull.
But I can’t. Not like this. Not now. Not when it’s still so wrong to cross that line.
Simon wraps his hand around mine. “Come on. We only have a little farther to go.”
24
MAGNUS
My phone rings, and despite it being an unfamiliar number, I answer it immediately. “Bryant.”
“We’re at a gas station on the corner of Britton and Marley.” Simon’s voice flits through the receiver. “Send a car and call for a doctor. We’re fine, but June needs medical attention.”
He disconnects the line, and I reach for my keys, rushing toward the door.
“Who was it?” Hayes calls out. “Was it them? I’m coming with you.”
I turn toward him and stop dead in my tracks. “No, you fucking won’t. You’ve done enough.”
He and Dominic are the reason June left in the first place, and despite my better judgment, I've contributed to the situation as much as they have. June is hurt because of me, and I cannot allow him to make things any worse.
I pull the gun out from my side and hold it to Hayes’s forehead. “If you so much as move a fucking inch, I will blow your fucking brains out right here.”
His eyes narrow like he’s considering whether or not I’m being serious.
But I’ve never been so fucking certain in my life.
“Call my bluff,” I tell him. “I fucking dare you.”
“Fine.” Hayes backs down, stepping out of my way.
I rush out the door and hop into my car, pushing a sequence of buttons—one to start the engine, and the other to dial a number.
The speaker sounds in my car as I shove it into reverse and push the gas. My tires spin, and I whip it around and throw it into drive.
“Dr. Murphy,” the man answers on the other end.
"I need you at the house. It's urgent. I don't have any information other than it isn't life-threatening."
“I will be there shortly.”
"Thank you," I tell him and hang up the phone, focusing on driving a million miles per hour to the intersection Simon had instructed me they were at. I break every possible traffic law, blasting through red lights, turning down one-way streets, and passing cars illegally. I blow my horn as I weave through oncoming traffic and dart back across to the correct side of the road. My tires skid across the pavement when I turn down the final street that leads me to the gas station where the love of my life is. I slam on the brakes and hop out before the car is fully shifted into park. With the engine still running, I run into the establishment and frantically look for her.
