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It’s when I hear Beth’s car in the driveway minutes later that my heart begins to pound again, beating bruising rhythms against my chest.
I had planned to leave before she got here.
I can’t face her even when I know I need to. I need to know everything in my nightmares isn’t real. I need to know her skin is unmarked by my touch.
The moment she walks through the door, the atmosphere shifts. Her presence like sunlight—warm, inviting, radiant—and the sight of her smile ignites the surge of want in me that’s as bewildering as it is intense.
But then the fear comes knocking.
My eyes search her head to foot, and relief washes over me. She’s not hurt. It takes all my power to stand and stay there without stepping closer for a better inspection.
When our eyes connect, her smile is replaced with something else—a hint of concern, a subtle questioning.
Can she see it? Can she see the secrets, the parts of myself coming undone at the seams?
Am I doing what my father did and pulling her into my darkness?
“Hey, stranger,” she says.
“Stranger?” Cora questions, her eyes darting between us.
“My neighbor hasn’t been very neighborly. I haven’t seen him in days.” She’s talking to Cora, but her eyes never leave mine as she studies me. When she speaks this time, I know it’s just to me. “Where have you been?”
Her question hangs in the air, a simple inquiry that feels heavier than it should. I brush it off, responding with a half-truth. “I’ve been busy.”
I fucking hate how awkward we suddenly become. We are never awkward.
I hate how her gaze softens on me, how she hides the subtle flinch from the icy tone in my voice.
Most of all, I hate how she feels miles away when it’s only steps, and I could have her in my arms again.
I hate how I remember the way her body feels. How perfect the soft curve of her waist felt in my hand.
I hate how scared I am of it all.
“You okay?” she asks.
“I’m fine.” But even as the words leave my lips, they feel hollow, a façade I’m desperately trying to uphold.
With a nod, she turns to Cora, and I find myself drinking in the sight of her. Her gentleness, her strength—they’re qualities I admire, qualities that draw me to her. But she doesn’t know the full truth about me. She doesn’t know the darkness that lurks in my past, the ghosts that haunt me.
If she knew, would it change the way she looks at me, the way she smiles at me, the way she trusts me with her girls? She just asked to stay. Would she want to leave if she knew the truth?
Even as she speaks to Cora about how the girls’ day went and how Hannah starts school soon, her eyes search mine, and it’s like she can see right through me. I want to tell her, but I’m terrified—terrified of losing her, of seeing fear replace the warmth in her eyes.
I’m torn, caught between my fear of losing her and my fear of hurting her. And all the while, the echo of my nightmare lingers, a haunting reminder of the potential darkness within me.
I don’t know much right now, but I know I need to get out of here.
“I’ll be in the city for a couple of days,” I tell her, my words as much an escape for me as they are an explanation for her.
With a look of confusion, she steps aside to let me pass, but not before my knuckles brush against her fingers, burning my skin from the simple touch.
It’s not nearly enough, but it will have to be. In this state, I can’t trust myself to touch her at all.
As I leave, her voice follows me, a ghostly whisper in my ear. “Take care, Logan.”
Thirty-One
