Page 51 of His Dark Vices

How did I not notice what I've been feeling inside this whole time? I got used to the pain, that's how. But now everything is possible, the future brighter.

No, that's not right. The future is uncertain—because Bree doesn't know what I've done, what it took to get here. It doesn't matter if she's been a part of this liberation I feel now, the lightness that's starting to take hold in my limbs. Because she's been blind to all my lies, my manipulations, the way I've controlled it all—and the way she's helped me heal.

Bree was a crutch for me all along, wasn't she?

Fuck.

I keep completely still and let the snow drape me in a light blanket that's only getting thicker.

Who knew that with the death of my parents, I'd be hit by all these revelations? Shit, their very existence was blocking me from thinking about anything related to them walking out on me, rejecting me, leaving me in the cold. But not anymore. They're dead, that's the way it'll stay.

And the man I became to cope with all the bullshit, he's dying with them.

It'll start with me telling Bree about everything.

With that thought comes a familiar pain, the sharp feeling in my chest—the fear of losing her when I've come so far.

But that's the only way I can be serious about this. If I give her the chance to turn away, destroy my life, then if she stays, I'll know it's for me. I'll know she feels what I feel, that burning intensity to be together.

If she leaves, well.

I'll deserve it.

I'll deal with that when it comes. Thinking about it feels like swallowing ice shards.

I need to make her understand. As fucked up as it's all been, there was a reason, a compulsion.

In a little while, I will. In this moment, I still have Bree, the memories of us together. I can still reach out and touch her. My line to her hasn't been severed yet, nothing has come between us.

I won't drag this out. I'll tell her as soon as I can.

Just not tonight, not while the snow is falling in our clearing, blanketing me and all my shame, all the dirt and grime.

At least for now.

"Bree," I whisper into the still night, my eyes unfocused.

Snow keeps piling.

"How long have I loved you?"

CHAPTER 19

Bree

I'm listening hard for any hint that the elevator is bringing Sam up to his penthouse. I'm waiting for him, but my back is to the doors. As much as I need to see him right now, every part of me wishes I was somewhere else.

I feel like the moment I get a look at this face, I'll know whether he killed his parents or not.

I tap my foot impatiently, my arms crossed over my chest as I stare at the gleaming floor. There's no lingering scent of cigarettes here—it's like they were never here. And now they're permanently gone.

I don't know how to feel about a damn thing. I'm surprised security even let me up. I feel like I'm about to blow my top at any second, my mind is such a mess—with his parents' death, Companion, the rocky state of my relationship. But I flashed security a smile, and they ushered me up with a sympathetic smile. I bet they think Sam really needs his girlfriend right about now.

The whole city is buzzing with his loss.

I know his parents were trash, but that doesn't mean Sam should have made a murderer out of himself. Well, okay, I don't know if he killed them. I rub my own arms reassuringly, trying to cling to that fact, but it won't stick. It's easily pushed aside by one glaring mark against Sam: He absolutely abused his position at work to spy on me through my Companion.

If he would spy on me and use that information to manipulate me into a relationship, what else would he do without thinking twice?

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