Page 38 of The Reaper
ChapterSeventeen
LEAH MAY
Islammed the car door and put my head down. The rain soaked through my clothes almost instantly, but I didn’t care. I felt numb, and no amount of rain could counter that. As I walked the short distance towards my gate, I heard his car door open behind me and his voice calling out for me to wait. I did. Because despite what I’d convinced myself in the car, that this had to end, I would still do whatever he told me to. The spell wouldn’t be broken that easily.
Do you like being a doormat?
The voices in my head chastised me, but I ignored them. I wasn’t a doormat; I was taking steps to get control back.
I folded my arms over my chest and turned to face him. He was only wearing a T-shirt, and the rain had already soaked right through it, making it transparent, but I wouldn’t look at his chest. Instead, I kept my eyes on his and gritted my teeth. I had no idea how this would go, but I didn’t want to lose myself. I’d lost enough over the years since my mum had died, and all that grief and pain had been channelled into him. My dark, broken heart had attached itself to his and he didn’t even know it. My saviour who hid in the shadows. My reaper.
“Leah, please. Don’t walk away from me like that. Don’t tell me it’s enough,” he said, coming to stand right in front of me.
“But it is,” I peered up at him from under my hood and he stepped right into my space, his face close to me, his eyes boring into mine. “It’s enough,” I repeated automatically, not believing the words coming from my mouth. “And now it has to stop. I have to stop.”
“No,” he barked, his eyes flickering between my mouth and eyes.
Tears started to fall down my cheeks, but I doubt he could tell the difference between them and the rain that was smattering my face.
“It might be enough for you, but it isn’t for me.” His brow furrowed in confusion.
It wasn’t for me either, but what choice did I have?
“It’s okay, Devon. None of this is your fault.”
“What isn’t my fault? I need to know exactly what you’re saying because I feel so confused. I don’t know what you mean.”
“Me. That’s what I mean. You don’t have to feel responsible for me. I’m fine, I’ll survive. I’ve done it before.”
He reached up and grabbed my face in his hands, tilting my head so I had no choice but to look right at him. “Just stop with the whole martyr thing. The‘I’ll cope,’ ‘I’m used to it,’I don’t want to hear that from you. Ever.”
He panted out his breath as he held me. The warmth fanned my face, and his closeness made it difficult to breathe. His thumbs gently stroked my cheekbones, tears that’d trickled into the rain were wiped away with what felt like care. My heart swelled, the prickle of hope rippling under my skin. But I’d lived this life long enough to know that feelings like that couldn’t be trusted.
“Don’t make me promises, Devon. Don’t touch me like there’s something there when there isn’t. I’m strong enough to walk away now. And besides, I hate promises. They only get broken.”
He dipped his head, taking a moment to compose himself. And when he eventually looked up at me, the love that shone in his eyes made my breath catch in my throat.
“When I touch you,” he said softly. “It’s because I want to.” He moved his face so that his nose touched mine. “When I touch you it’s because I have to.” He moved closer still, his cheek brushing mine, and he whispered in my ear, “I touch you because trying not to is like trying not to breathe. It’s too hard, and after a while, it hurts.”
I closed my eyes, feeling the warmth of his breath on my cheek, my neck, even in the coldness of my heart. I felt him everywhere.
“I don’t know what’s going to happen,” he whispered. “I haven’t done anything like this before. But what I do know is, I can’t let you walk away without at least trying to work out what this is, this connection between us. I feel this pull deep inside of me whenever I see you. When you’re not around, it’s like the pull gets stronger and I can’t settle, I can’t think straight. And some days, you’re all I see.” He pulled back, keeping his hands on my face but staring straight into my eyes. “Why, Leah? Why do I feel like this?”
I wanted to tell him that I loved him, but I knew that’d sound crazy. He didn’t know me, and he thought I didn’t know him. So, I stayed quiet, giving him time to process his thoughts.
“I feel like I’m going crazy here,” he carried on. “And yet, if I walk away now, I will never forgive myself. Who are you?” he asked, narrowing his eyes again and frowning. “Where did you come from?”
“I haven’t come from anywhere. I’ve always been here.”
He shook his head, a confused expression marring his beautiful face.
“I can’t stand the thought of you walking away but I feel like my world is just so wrong for you. It’s not the place for a girl like you.”
He swallowed and I could see the war of emotions playing out in his troubled eyes.
“But don’t you see? I’m already in your world. I’ve been here for a while; you’ve just never noticed me.”
“Don’t say it like that,” he urged, holding my face closer as the rain beat down around us.
