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“I thought I was ready. But the second she answered, I realized I’m still so angry with her.”
We all were. It was shocking what she’d done.
“Me too. I told her if she needed me, I’m here and I’d like to continue to keep Blake. But I need some time to get over what she did.” Mr. Dixon’s sadness seeped from every part of him.
“It’s not that she was talking toher. But invitingherto our wedding? That was low.” Andrew ran a hand through his hair.
“I can’t believe she’d do something like that. If she wanted to try to fix things, that wasn’t the place to start,” Mr. Dixon said in disbelief.
“She tried to tell me she didn’t do it.” Andrew didn’t sound convinced.
“She told me the same thing. I can’t trust her,” Mr. Dixon choked out, pain contorting his face.
Mrs. Quinn took his hand into hers.
“If you love her, don’t shut her out forever.”
All eyes landed on Cricket, who looked down at her lap after she spoke.
“I just need more time,” Mr. Dixon said.
“Turn that up.” Mrs. Quinn slapped at his arm and pointed toward the TV.
An old DMV photo of my face was plastered on the screen.
“The passenger in the shooting spree in Washington, D.C. three years ago that left twelve people dead and thirty-seven injured has finally been identified.”
“Is that true?”
Through blurred vision, the one person I’d never wanted to discover my past stood in the doorway.
Holt.
Chapter Forty-Eight
Baker
Three Years Ago
“We’regonna leave our mark, baby. You and me. Nobody’s ever gonna forget us.”
Kyle started the ignition to the car, turned up the radio to a deafening volume, and grabbed my hand. He grinned as “Heroes” by Postmodern Jukebox blasted.
I gave him a wary smile. Whenever he played that song, he always got in a weird mood. At that moment, he was giddy to a point I’d never seen. He’d been having these highs and lows a lot more recently.
And they scared me.
So much so that I’d called the police. Told themsomethingwas happening. They’d never come.
Kyle did illegal things. Things that I chose to overlook because I loved him. Because he treasured me.
But his behavior had become strange, and I feared he'd hurt himself. Or maybe others.
He grabbed the back of my head and smashed his lips to mine. The kiss was bruising. Something beyond passionate. And where I usually settled with his touch, that kiss set me on edge.
When he ripped his lips from mine, he was breathless. “You”—he pointed at me—“are my inspiration.”
Those were the kinds of words I’d eaten up from the time we’d started seeing one another. They were the reason I fell so hard and fast.
