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It feels like goodbye.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Valen
Iwatched her as they left together, his hand on the small of her back and her head down to protect her face from the biting wind that had picked up in the last hour. I’ve been standing here waiting, watching for so long that I could barely feel my face. It was so cold, but even that didn’t help the boiling anger running through my veins at the sight of his hand on her. I wanted to walk over and chop it off at the elbow and shove it up his ass until he cried like the little bitch he was.
He opens the passenger door of his car and stands beside it as Rue climbs in and gets herself settled. Instead of closing the door and walking around to the driver’s side, he squats down beside the car and talks to her. I can’t see his face through the window, but Rue looks tense, her posture rigid, as if the wind howling around us might be enough to break the fragile facade she’s hiding behind and shatter her.
Keeping them in my line of sight, I make my way over to my car as Hask stands and shuts her door. Once I’m behind thewheel, I watch as Hask’s car pulls out of its parking spot. Pulling out of my own spot, I follow them, keeping enough distance between us for the cop not to notice. I squeeze the steering wheel when they stop in front of a bistro. I park on the opposite side of the road and watch them get out.
His fucking hand moves to the small of her back again. I know if I had brought my gun, this fucker would be dead right now. I pull out my cell phone and send a text to my flight team, telling them I need the plane ready to fly out tonight.
He pulls out a chair at one of the outdoor tables for Rue, despite the weather. I don’t know if they want privacy—everyone else is smart enough to sit indoors—or if Rue feels claustrophobic. She gets that a lot. When it would hit hard, I’d sit outside with her for hours. There isn’t anything I won’t do for this woman. Except let her go.
When Hask disappears inside, I assume to get them some drinks, I dial her number. I watch as she pulls her phone from her pocket and stares at it like a snake in her hand. I swallow down the bile in my throat.
Eventually, she swipes her thumb across the screen and answers. “Hey,” she says softly, a catch in her voice.
“Hey, you okay? How did it go today?”
“You own Briarwood House.” It’s a statement, not a question.
I punch the steering wheel and feel my knuckle pop. “I wanted the land. I wanted to make something good there, hoping it would erase the memories of what happened there.”
I watch as she wipes her eyes, and my heart cracks when I realize she’s crying.
“What happened to you?” she whispers.
“Nothing I want to talk about on the phone.”
“Was it bad?”
“Worse than you can imagine,” I answer truthfully.
She bows her head, and I hear her soft sob. “Did they hurt you?”
I don’t answer. When she cries, I wonder if my silence was answer enough.
“Valen, you have to know this makes you more of a suspect.”
“I know.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“What makes you think you didn’t already know?” I say, frustrated.
“Not her. Not the version of me that got tossed in the grave. We’re not the same. I’m asking you why you didn’t tell me, the girl who was dragged out. Why didn’t you tell me?”
I can’t answer that, so I keep quiet.
She laughs, but there is no joy in the sound—only heartbreak. “All I know is what you’ve drip-fed me. And like a fool, I took what you gave me and didn’t push. You know the toll my missing memories has taken on me. All I have is you. I trusted you, Valen. I love—” She cuts herself off, blowing out a deep breath as she composes herself.
“I want to know everything. You cannot save me from the truth.”
“And what if you want to leave?”
“That’s a risk you have to take. A stranger looks back at me when I look in the mirror, Valen. Don’t ask me to keep sleeping next to one, too. All or nothing.”
