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“Sorry. I’ve…” I took a breath.
“You no longer like me?”
She sounded like a lost child, and I froze, worried she would cut herself again.
“It’s not that. I just need some space.” What words could I find to explain how being around her reminded me of all the crap we’d just experienced? Even if my body craved her, like a junkie does heroin. “Have you heard what happened to the detective?”
“He’s dead.”
I puffed loudly. “Fuck.”
“Don’t give yourself a hard time over it.”
“And it doesn’t worry you?”
“Of course it does. I haven’t stopped crying. I’m a mess.”
“Please tell me you’re not self-harming.”
“What do you care? You hate me, and you’re blaming me for what happened. Aren’t you?”
“No. I’m not.” That was a bit of a lie because, if I hadn’t been so hot for her, I wouldn’t have resorted to blackmailing Crisp.
“Detectives are circling Merivale. There’s all this shit going down. Crisp’s name has come up regarding some bones found, and the DNA of that detective’s all over the crime scene.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. He was scum, Drake.”
“Still, I killed him.”
“You did not kill him. Oh my God, Drake. Speeding drivers often crash their cars.”
“But I should have stopped to render help.”
“Oh. My. God. The guy would have shot you. And you weren’t to know that—”
I interrupted before she said that word responsible for my fucking nightmares. “And you were going to tell me when?”
“You haven’t exactly been taking my calls, have you?”
I sighed. “No. Sorry. I’ve been with my mum. She needs my help.” That was bullshit because, if anything, it was the other way around.
“Do you still think about me?”
“All the fucking time.”
“Do you get hard thinking about me?”
“All the fucking time.” That wasn’t a lie. My dick thickened at just hearing her soft, breathy voice.
“Then why won’t you see me? I’m coming to London. We can hang out there for a while. I’ve got a new apartment, which means I don’t have to stay at my horrible mum’s.”
“Let’s see. Give me some time.”
“That’s you dumping me.”
“I have to go,” I said.
