Page 146 of Made for Sinners

Enough to remember who I was before all this.

Before him.

I slid off the altar, my legs still shaky, and smoothed my dress down with trembling hands.

Dante watched me, his expression unreadable.

“You came out here for a reason,” he said quietly.

I nodded. “I needed to breathe.”

“And did you?”

I met his gaze. “Not yet.”

He stepped forward, brushing his thumb over my lower lip. “Then let me help you.”

I smiled, but it didn’t reach my eyes.

Because the truth was, I didn’t need his help.

I needed space.

I needed freedom.

And now I had a way to get it.

That night, when he was asleep beside me—his arm draped over my waist, his breath warm against the back of my neck—I lay awake, staring at the ceiling.

Thinking about the tunnel.

Thinking about the woods.

Thinking about what it would feel like to walk out of this life, even just for a little while.

Not because I didn’t love him.

But because I did.

And loving Dante Conti meant losing pieces of myself, one by one.

I wasn’t ready to give them all away.

Not yet.

So I closed my eyes and made a plan.

Tomorrow night, I’d go.

Just for a few hours.

Just long enough to remember who I was before I became his.

And maybe—just maybe—I’d come back stronger.

Or maybe I wouldn’t come back at all.

36

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