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Chase is by my side in an instant. He hovers, not touching me, but close enough to let me know he’s there. He knows. He always knows. If not for Eve, he’d be the other half of my soul.
I can’t look at him.
I can’t.
I’ll break.
“I have to go,” I rasp. My lighter is clutched tightly in my shaky hand as I roll my shoulders. “I—”
“Go?” Kon’s feet pound on the pavement as he makes his way to me. “What do you mean, go?”
“I mean, I have to go,” I grit out, my anger hotter than the sweltering day. “I’m leaving.”
Before they can ask more questions, I force my way between them, ignoring their shouts as I stomp down the long rows of booths, heading for my car. I don’t bother with my tattoo equipment, knowing one of them will pack it up for me. I don’t think about anything other than giving into my desire to flee.
I can’t be here when I know they’re so close.
Maybe it’s been years since I last saw her, but I knew her better than anyone. And what I saw wasn’t right. What I saw, the truth of it shattering any hope I had left for her, settles deep in my soul.
That wasn’t my Eve.
My Eve is long gone—maybe she’s been gone as long as I have. But knowing this is the way her life has turned out makes me sick. Knowing she’s opening her legs for men—even if it’s just online and they can’t actually fuck or touch her, it still makes my blood hum.
But what makes me murderous is the way my father’s touch was so familiar. The way she didn’t even hesitate to kiss him. The way they seemed so at ease with each other.
This isn’t a first for them.
And that knowledge has me speeding away from the festival, and heading straight for Hell.
The sound of Eve humming fills the cab of my truck and the familiar tune has my lip kicking up into a smile that makes my cheeks hurt. Or maybe that’s just because after the weekend we shared in Savannah, the muscles there are uncharacteristically sore.
I can’t remember the last time I smiled or laughed so much.
It felt different there, away from the prying eyes in Divinity. We didn’t have to worry about angry whispers or damning gossip. Eve was different in Savannah, too. Lighter. Happier. The knowledge that I’d been able to do that for her, make her laugh and dance around the streets freely, made something in my chest soften. Something I haven’t felt in…
I don’t even know how long.
I’m almost sad to return home. But the world doesn’t stop just because we’d like it to. It goes on, people continue to exist and need, their greed for other’s time and energy unrelenting.
I enjoy my work. Thrive on the order and structure. I like being needed. Feeling important is a heady thing, especially when you were raised to be nothing more than an afterthought, only granted attention in the form of callous words and painful strikes.
I roll my neck side to side as if to shrug off the unwanted memories of fists meeting flesh. Eve’s humming comes to a stop just as I turn down the familiar gravel road that leads to our home.
We didn’t speak much on the drive back, content to just enjoy the scenery and relax after a busy, hot weekend exploring Savannah. The art festival was interesting, but not really my scene. Seeing her in her element made it worth the discomfort. Spending nights and mornings wrapped in each other was just an added bonus.
With a sigh, she gives me a rueful smile as I put the truck into park. “Home sweet home.”
At her reluctance to get out, I laugh and press a kiss to her temple. “Come on. We’ve got to get ready for church in the morning.”
She huffs, sliding from the cab when I do. “And make sure Kevin didn’t burn the place down.”
I roll my eyes but my gut clenches just the same. I spin toward the church, squinting when the glare of the setting sun bounces off Barry’s Pond, nearly blinding me. With my hand over my eyes to shield me, I can just make out the perfect, if not worn, shiplap structure. Four white walls. Still intact.
I release a long breath making Eve burst out with laughter. She bumps me with her hip and passes me a few of our bags to help carry. “I was just kidding. He wouldn’t dare.”
I cock a brow, ushering her toward the front door. “And why’s that?”
“He loves Jesus too much to play with fire.” With a smirk that promises secrets I don’t want to hear, she fishes the keys from my front pocket, purposefully running her fingers over my semi-hard cock in the process. I gnash my teeth, making her squeal and hastily unlock the door.
