Page 91 of Crossing the Line
He wanted to. He wanted to promise her that everything was okay and she could finally go live the life she chose. But he couldn’t. He didn’t.
“Stanford may not be an option.”
He winced when she shrugged off his arm. “What do you mean ‘might not be an option’?”
“If we don’t catch Ganim, you can’t go.” Sometimes blunt was best.
“I think I’m having an aneurysm or something because it sounded like you said I can’t go.”
“Angel. He may have killed two girls in Texas. They both had stalker issues with him, and both of them disappeared. I think it’s permanent, and the FBI is looking into their cases. If he’s a murderer and he’s still on the loose, fixated on you, you can’t go. You can’t go spend your days on a college campus with 16,000 other people.”
“So come with me then.” He heard it, the fear in her voice that she was losing the one thing left she had to hold on to.
Xavier reached for her hand and held it tight. “Think about it, Angel. You’d have a predictable schedule and anyone who paid the least bit of attention would be able to find a way to get to you. Even if I could guarantee your safety in classes, what kind of experience would that be? Normal students would be afraid to talk to you. The only ones left would be the assholes who just want something from you. Is that how you envisioned it?”
She shook her head slowly, sadly. And his heart hurt for her.
“When will it be a definite ‘no’?” she asked.
“It already is, Angel.”
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She had asked him to go. And he’d gone, even though she knew he wanted to stay. He hadn’t meant to hurt her. Her parents probably hadn’t either. But the hurt was there all the same.
This legacy had robbed her of any hope of normal.
Her one out, the thing that she really wanted for herself had just been taken away from her. And what was she left with? Yes, other people would kill for this life. Some would look at the costs as being a fair trade for the luxury and the fame and the money. But Waverly wanted normal, she wanted happy.
A hot tear worked its way free and slipped down her cheek. She gave herself a few moments to mourn the life she’d dreamed of, let the tears fall silently. She’d asked Xavier if she was damaged and he said no, but she wasn’t so sure of that. How could she remain unscathed, and would she if she stayed?
She wiped her face with the backs of her hands and then went into the bathroom. She washed her face slowly, carefully, and patted it dry with the cloud-soft towel. She found her phone in the nightstand drawer. She’d kept it turned off since they boarded. Kate was on vacation with her parents and she was the only one who would have called the number anyway.
Waverly powered it on and dialed.
“’lo?” Kate’s voice was thick with sleep.
“Oh, shit. I’m sorry, I forgot about the time difference,” Waverly apologized and felt like an idiot.
“Wave?”
“Yeah, I’m sorry I just missed you and forgot. Go back to bed.”
“No, s’cool. I was just dreaming about serial killers again anyway.”
“You’re so weird,” Waverly said with affection.
“You have your ‘I’m not crying, you’re crying’ voice on,” Kate yawned.
“Yeah well, I’m on vacation with my parents so…”
“Seriously, Wave, what’s wrong? I’m awake now, and if you don’t talk to me, I’m going to post that pic of you pretending to pick your nose with the salad tongs on your Instagram account.”
“Who said I was pretending?”
“Har har. Spill sister.”
“I got into Stanford.”
