Page 99 of Dirty Little Secrets
“There was a passenger in the backseat,” Quinton dreadfully confirms. “She,” agony grips his features, a deep sorrowful pain, “died.”
“My…” I sob, manically pat my chest.Oh God…“My heart… It’s—Quin… It’s here. He… This heart is?—”
Quinton’s eyes widen with shock. “What?”
“April 16, 2020,” I whimper out, closing my eyes. “At 3:23 a.m.”
“Emery…”
“I have her heart, Quinton,” I weep, hating the truth. Hating myself. Trying so hard to hate him too. “The woman who died. The woman he…” I can’t finish the sentence.
“Cavanaugh…” Quinton’s warm touch lulls my fraying nerves. His tone drips with genuine honesty. “He… He doesn’t know there was a passenger.”
I gasp. “What?”
“He doesn’t know…” he trails off. “His father… My father…” Quinton hangs his head. “They didn’t tell him.”
“He doesn’t know?” I whisper. Oh, God, if he knew… If he knew that he killed someone. I glance up at Quinton, confused. “Butyouknew? You knew this whole time, and you didn’t tell him?”
Quinton offers me a weak smile. “I told you I’m not a monster, Emery. I am no saint, I know.” He swallows. “But I am not a monster. It was…an accident. A horrible, terrible accident.”
My gaze darts to my left hand, to where a ring will one day sit. Monsters aren’t born, are they? They’re created. And even the most wicked of beasts still have a soul. Except the ones that are dead. Those monsters have nothing.
Humans can die many deaths. The physical might not be the worst death of all.
If Damon knew the truth, he would die. He would breathe only for the sake of torture. He’d blame himself. All over again.
Some monsters deserve grace. Deserve a chance to come back to the world of the living. Only then do they stop being monsters. I can’t… I won’t be the person who turns Damon into a living, breathing monster. The truth would kill him. It would push him over the edge.
And I can’t lie to him. I can’t look into his eyes every day and lie.
“You asked me if I had a passport before,” I whisper, peering up at Quinton through soaked lashes. “Why?”
“My mother’s fundraiser,” Quinton says softly. “It’s in Switzerland this year, but I could cancel?—”
I nod, knowing what I need to do. “Tonight. I want to leave tonight.”
“I’ll get the jet ready,” Quinton says. “What about?—”
“We’re all monsters, Quin,” I say. “Some are just louder than others.” I glance over his shoulder. “Get the doctor. I want to leave. I need to tie up some very loose ends.”
Tie them up and never let them unravel.
For my sake.
But mostly for his.
THE RED SKIES
DAMON
“Sign here.”Javier’s contempt barely registers as I glide my finger over the note Emery left on her pillow this morning.
Running errands all day. I’ll be home later.
Home. She called it home. It might just be a word, but it means that she can see it. It means that she canfeelthe comfort. The peace. I’m unable to stifle a grin as Javier slams a pen on the table.
“Damon! Are you going to sign? Or have you changed your mind?”
