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He makes a face—but I think hedid.
“I remember,” I whisper. “I remember falling in love with you. I remember that it wasn’t all bad.”
There are those earlier flashes. The ones where he held doors, kissed my knuckles, gazed at me like I was the moon. It was a fantasy. A disastrous one. But I refuse to believe that he was acting the entire time. Which means he can love someone else the right way.
“Don’t hurt them.”
“I won’t.” He’s looking right through me. “I won’t hurt them, Mel, because they’re not you. And you’re the only one for me.”
He points for me to go downstairs.
My feet move on their own. Slowly. Crawling along step by step until we reach the kitchen. The door is open, just the screen shut, and my heart skips.
“Hey, Henry,” Jacob says. He comes out of the shadows like a phantom. “Melody might not’ve pulled the trigger—but I have no such qualms.”
There’s a noise like a gunshot, but muted. A spray of warm wetness across the back of my head and neck.
It takes my brain a second to catch up. To turn and register the weight of my ex-husband crashing into the wall and sliding down it. To register that Jacob just shot him.
There’s blood coming out of Henry’s temple.
Jacob didn’t just shoot him—he aimed for hishead.
I cover my mouth with my hand.
“What the fuck?” I whisper.
He pats me down. Checking for—I don’t know. Wounds?
“He didn’t touch me.” I bat away his hands. “Stop. I’m fine.”
I mean, okay, I’m notfine. I just watched him kill someone.
Jacob nods and directs me to stand in the corner. “Don’t move. Don’t touch anything.”
I nod and fold my arms under my breasts. It’s then that I notice the gloves, and I have to remind myself that this confrontation was planned. That Jacob and his friends knew I was walking over here, that they were following.
That I wouldn’t leave that house with Henry.
He opens the door and admits Greyson, Steele, Miles, and Knox. They’re all wearing blue latex gloves, too.
“Someone get her booties,” Jacob murmurs.
Huh?
Knox disappears back outside and returns with these blue…things. He bends down and puts one around my left foot, covering the sole of my shoe, and then the other. He doesn’t even mind when I grab his shoulder for balance.
But once he’s done, my attention goes back to Henry.
Dead Henry.
“I’m not sad about it,” I say. “Does that mean I’m screwed up?”
That draws all their focus to me, and I focus on Jacob. He’s already shaking his head, and he comes closer with a small smile.
“No, songbird. It means you’re free.”
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