Page 39 of Buried in Blood
“She’s good at pretending,” I say. “She learned from the best.”
His jaw flexes. “You’re not pretending.”
“Maybe not with her,” I whisper. “But with him? Every second.”
Westand there in silence. Long enough for the hum of fluorescent lights to start to buzz in my brain.
Then he speaks, voice low and firm. “I’m proud of you.”
I blink. “Why?”
“For getting her out. For surviving this long. For still knowing who you are.”
I don’t know how to respond to that, so I don’t.
“You know, Brooke said you don’t believe in happy endings,” he says.
“I don’t,” I reply.
“Me neither.”
And then—goddammit—he moves closer.
It’s not sexual. It’s not rushed. It’s just… real. And dangerous. And wrong.
His hand brushes mine. Not enough to hold it, just enough to make me feel it. Like static surging throughout my delicate hand.
I turn toward him.
Our faces are too close. Too aware.
“I can’t,” I whisper.
He leans in anyway, forehead brushing mine. His breath hits my lips. “Then don’t.”
But I do.
It’s fast and soft and selfish—just a kiss. Just a moment. But it’s enough to wake every nerve in my body like a fire alarm.
When we pull away, I’m breathless. We say nothing. Brooke flings open the door, beaming. “Okay, now this one isdefinitelythe one!”
And just like that, it’s over.
Reese backs away. I smile like I haven’t lost my mind. And Brooke spins for us again, safe in her delusion. We let her have it. She has no idea what she’s walking into. But then again, neither do we.
I watch her as my mind reels. How stupid am I? Kissing Reese in publicafter Damien’s threat.
Maybe I do have a death wish after all.
* * *
The moment we pull back into the driveway, my heart skips like it’s trying to warn me. Reese parks without speaking. He doesn’t touch me. He doesn’t look at me. Not after earlier.
The kiss sits heavy between us. Unspoken. Untouchable. Dangerous.
“Thank you,” I whisper as I unbuckle.
He nods once. Jaw tight. “Good luck.”
