Page 58 of Genesis

“I just bought it.”

She exhales, shaking her head as she gets in. I shut the door and walk over to the other side. I start the engine so we can have some heat. Her eyes are on the dash, blinking slowly.

The roses.

“I got you those,” I say with a shrug.

Her face falls. The mad fades, and in its place is an affection she only shows me.

“You said you wanted a sweet guy, so, I’m trying.”

She brings the flowers to her face and breathes in, looking at them. “Being sweet isn’t the problem here, Danny,” she says hopelessly. “What if you were in the car when they drove by? What if they had killed you?”

“I wasn’t, though.”

“But you could have been. What if I had been in there with you?”

I don’t respond, only look to the steering wheel. My heart doesn’t want to agree with her, but my mind knows she’s right. She’s unbending and stubborn as hell. I look at the girl I care about. The girl who let me be her first, the one I can’t stop thinking about.

“I’m not sure what you want me to say here, love.”

Her eyes dip to the floor, and mine jump to the window when I see snow start to fall around us.

“I told you who I was. I gave you a chance to change your mind.”

“And now it’s too late?” she asks. “Why does it have to be this way? Why can’t you stop?”

“I’d never ask you to stop being who you are. Don’t ask that of me.”

“Who you are is dangerous. You’re going to get yourself killed. I won’t be able to handle it, Danny.” She starts crying and her tears are caustic, burning my beating muscle.

“The car was parked, Bexley. It was parked and I wasn’t in it. They knew that. They didn’t shoot to kill me. It was a warning.”

“A warning? Good God, like that makes it better.” She looks heavenward, like there’s some kind of answer there.

“Well, I’m not dead,” I say, like thatdoesmake it better.

She wipes her face, rubbing her finger over one of the rose petals.

“I’m not going to let anything happen to you, and nothing’s going to happen to me. Trust me.”

She looks at me with wet lashes and pouty lips.

I reach over and take her hand, running my fingers over the bracelet I gave her. What this girl fails to understand is, she no longer has a choice in the matter of us. She told me she loved me. She gave herself to me. It’s done. I’ll be damned if I’m going to let anything come between us now.

I bring her soft knuckles to my lips, kissing them lightly, and then I drop her hand, putting the car in neutral. I back us out of here and head to my house.

“Where are we going?” she asks.

“My house.”

I don’t ask her if she has plans, and she doesn’t protest. She looks out the window as we drive away from the north side of town, rubbing the rose petals in her own thoughts. I wish I knew what she was thinking, but part of me does. She’s worried. She’s wondering what she should do.

She’s young. Hell, I’m young, but I know I want her. I also know I’m being selfish. Deep inside, past my cold soul, is a little mass of reason. She should be with someone who doesn’t risk her life just by being with them.

But I’m a prick and an asshole, so I shut the door on that thought as we drive down the driveway. Snow crunches beneath my tires, and the lake is all but frozen over.

I yank the car in park, and we climb out, her with the flowers still in her hands. I unlock the door, take the roses, and place them on the table before grabbing her to me. My heart rushes for a girl whose eyes melt when I touch her. I run my nose alongside hers. The chaos of the world settles, and everything out there doesn’t fucking matter.

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