AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Tell me why.
Tell me why, damn you.
He flinches. Maybe I really do have telepathic powers, because he stands, his breathing picking up again, his face twisted with emotion. His eyes are dark with a mixture of protectiveness, rage, and a desire so strong it makes me hold my breath.
When his hand touches my scraped knee, I gasp. When his other hand reaches for mine and clasps it, I flood with heat. My pulse quickens and I keep my eyes down. If I look up, I’ll reach out for him. I’m two different Lindsays inside right now. I’m the angry, betrayed Lindsay who wants Drew to suffer like I have.
And then I’m the sad, lonely Lindsay who just wants my best friend and boyfriend back.
I can’t look up. If I look up, if I meet his eyes, if I squeeze his hand and feel his skin, if I move one millimeter I’ll fling myself into his arms and beg him to love me like I thought he did.
Before.
Before.
I stiffen.
“I—” He starts to talk. I look up and pull my hand away, standing.
And without another word, I limp off, back to the house. He follows. I can feel him. But he doesn’t say another word.
I can fix my own damn knees, thank you. I can tend my own wounds.
I can protect myself.
I don’t need Drew.
I don’t need anyone at all.
Chapter 13
“You’re in charge of your own personal schedule, Lindsay,” Anya says with an apologetic tone, “but your father insisted I set up this informal coffee date with Jane so you could transition back to your regular life. He felt Jane would be a good entry point.”
Transition. Entry point. My father turns friendship into management jargon.
“Jane,” I say, nodding. Jane is Anya’s daughter, and we were in the same loose, larger circle of friends for a while. Jane’s the person who found me, tied up and bleeding, after—
Well, after.
Anya just smiles and waits with anticipation, as if I’m supposed to say more.
“Does Jane want to see me?” I’m more blunt than I should be. The morning’s craziness infused me with a sense of boldness. Maybe I don’t need to read everyone and conform to their expectations of me.
What if, instead, the world had to shape itself around what I want?
That idea is scary. Wouldn’t it be great to have that kind of power?
Anya looks shocked at my words. “Of course she does, Lindsay. She always liked you.”
Liked.
I smile. “I’d love to see her. I never got the chance to thank her.”
Anya’s face softens with compassion. “You never, ever need to thank her for that. My God, honey. She just did what any decent person would do.”
Any decent person.
Right.
