Page 67 of Hunted Innocence

I wait for him to continue, but he doesn’t. Instead, he just fucking stares at me, waiting for me to say something, although I’m not sure what the fuck he expects me to actually say. Opening my mouth, I start to ask him what the hell is going on, but he continues instead, saving me from having to actually ask anything.

“Her voicemail said she was leaving town. She left it around two in the morning. So what the fuck happened?”

I didn’t want to say any of this shit to anyone. Being vulnerable is not something any one of us wants to be—ever. However, we tend to go in that direction more often than not. Our backgrounds make it that way.

We can never be the cold, unfeeling bastards we need to be when we’re together. When we’re alone. We know too much about one another for that shit. So the fact that he’s talking to me right now means he wants me to be completely and totally honest with him.

“I gave her a ring but told her I’d never marry her, never have kids with her, and I would never fuck her again.”

“Grayson,” Theron warns.

Crossing my arms over my chest, I dip my chin slightly. “That is fucking that,” I state. “I don’t know what else to do. That is what she fucking wants, and I can’t give it to her.”

“Grayson,” he hisses, “what the fuck? I thought you were going to fix this.”

I thought I was going to fix this, too, but all I did was fuck it up even more. Completely and goddamn totally screw it up. I don’t know how to fix any of this shit. Not in the fucking slightest.

I ruined everything.

Everything.

And I can’t fix it, or anything, or myself, or Nadine.

Nothing.

It would be better for her and everyone involved if I were the one who left, not her. She needs to be around people who love her and care for her.

She needs to be in Nights.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

NADINE

The soundof the waves crashing against the shoreline wakes me up. It’s peaceful, serene, and yet… sad. So damn sad. I’m alone, which is what I wanted, but I’m not just alone; I’m empty.

Pushing up on the bed, I sit up and rest my back against the headboard. Closing my eyes again, I inhale deeply through my nose and let it out of my mouth. The calming breaths should work to make me feel… less. But they don’t.

I’m sad.

Throwing my legs over the side of the bed, I walk over to the suitcase that I trudged in here last night and find my short robe. I’m not even sure why I packed it. It’s gorgeous, a waffled fabric that is thin and soft. It is coral-colored and luxurious, but I think I’ve worn it maybe three times in the three years I’ve had it.

After using the bathroom and washing my hands, I walk over to the coffee maker in the room and prepare a cup. I read an article once about how unsanitary these things are, but today, I don’t care.

When it’s finished brewing, I dump in six sugar packets and two creams. Nothing about this cup is healthy, but I don’t care—at least not today. Tomorrow, I might. The motel I found is literally on the beach, and it’s a little worse for wear, but it’s not the peak beach season, so the price wasn’t too outrageous.

I open my sliding glass door, coffee in hand. I walk out onto the small patio, then continue until my feet touch the sand. It’s smooth and rough all at the same time. Looking around, I realize that I’m alone, and I’m glad.

I want to be alone right now. Maybe forever. Sinking onto the sand, I watch as the waves ebb and flow. They move in and out, and there is a mesmerizing beauty there that I can’t look away from.

It’s magical.

I only wish that being here made me feel better, happy, content—anything. But it doesn’t. The sadness that consumes me is all I can think about. It’s all I can focus on. Starting anew doesn’t feel as exciting as I thought it would. It doesn’t make me feel anxious or nervous like when I finally got away from Landon. Instead, I’m just filled with melancholy sadness.

After I finish my coffee, I sit for a while longer. Until the sun rises completely and people start to make their way to the beach for the day, setting up their canopies and chairs. Standing, I carry my mug back to the room, slipping inside and locking the sliding door behind me.

I take a hot shower and go through the motions of getting ready for the day as if I’m going to be doing something or going somewhere, which I don’t plan on doing. I’m not hungry, and I don’t know anybody. I’m also not in the mood for window shopping in the slightest.

I get dressed in a pair of clean pajamas and walk over to the bed, slip between the sheets, and lie down on the pillow. Closingmy eyes, I fall asleep. I’m not sure how long I sleep, but when I wake up, my stomach growls and the sun is no longer shining.

---