Page 57 of The Weight Of Falling
Just like that, the dynamic shifts. He’s the one in control again. And I’m the one unraveling.
Ever so slowly, he leans in and presses a soft, chaste kiss to the corner of my mouth. He holds it there for one...two...three unbearable seconds. Just long enough for my pulse to be all over the place.
“I told you,” he murmurs against my skin, “the next time I kiss you, another man’s name won’t be on your lips.”
We’re only inches apart. His lips brush over mine. It’s a whisper of a kiss, it barely counts. And yet, to anyone watching, we look like two people completely lost in each other.
Everything in me screams with the ache of not closing the distance.
We keep staring at each other, neither of us moving. His breathing is shallow, and so is mine. My palm rests flat against his chest. I can feel the rapid thud of his heart. Or maybe it’s mine. I’m not sure anymore.
Then he lets me go as smoothly as he’d pulled me to him. “Where are you parked?”
It takes me a moment to find my voice. “The grocery store.”
He picks up my coffee and pastry bag, and hands them to me. I take them in a daze.
“I’ll walk you.”
I manage a nod. Across the street, I catch a glimpse of Trish Snel still watching us, but now with a pleased smile, her curiosity apparently satisfied.
We walk in silence, not touching. My car is parked at the back of the lot, under the dappled shade of an old maple.
As we near it, Joel stops in his tracks.
“Kenzie,” he says quietly, staring at my car, his jaw tight.
I follow his gaze and freeze in shock.
Spray-painted across my windshield, in harsh red letters, is a single word.
WHORE.
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I stumble back a step, the coffee and pastry spilling to the ground, my pulse pounding in my ears, half-convinced I’ve read it wrong. Maybe if I squeeze my eyes shut and open them again, the word won’t be there.
But it is.
WHORE.
Bold and ugly. Red as blood.
A sick, stunned weight presses down on my chest. It’s such an awful word. And it’s on my car for anyone to see.
Beside me, Joel’s hands fist at his sides and he mutters an angry curse. His eyes scan the street, as if the person who did this might still be lurking around. But the parking lot looks just like any other ordinary Saturday afternoon.
My body is rigid, hollowed out by disbelief.
Joel turns toward me. “Hey.” His hand closes gently around my arm and he tugs me closer to him. “It’s okay. I’m here. And whoever did this is gone.”
The steadiness in his tone works its way through my spiraling thoughts. I let out a shaky breath and lean into his strength, letting the warmth of him cut through the chill crawling over my skin.
Still staring at the windshield, I grip the pendant around my neck. “Maybe they got the wrong car.”
Joel doesn’t answer. When I glance up, I’m surprised by how shaken he looks.
He pulls out his phone.
