Page 62 of Bed of Thorns

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“Just. Go!” I jerked away yet she repeated her action, her fingers digging into my chest.

“Stop it, Edmond. Just breathe.”

How could I breathe when it was not just possible but probable that I’d killed a man and for what reason? I wasn’t certain. Nothing was definite any longer, except for one thing.

Whatever had happened that night, the blood on my hands had been a product of what I’d done.

Mercedes pressed her face against my back as I continued to gasp for air. Then I heard her lilting voice as she hummed, the beautiful melody floating around me. She was offering a cocoon if only I could accept it. I had no idea how long we remained locked together in a sickening moment of truth and tragedy, but when the anger finally subsided, I pushed her away once again, only this time I turned, grabbing and pulling her tightly against me.

There was something so powerful about the way she lifted her head, her face serene as if accepting who and what I was. I lowered my head, cupping the side of her face. “I never want to hurt you.”

“Then don’t. There is a very logical explanation for what you found.”

“Yeah. I was hiding evidence.” I stroked her face, my fingertips tingling from the light touch.

“I don’t believe it. You couldn’t take whatever piece of information you found in that office so you wrote down everything you could. The writing appeared rushed, and the words clipped. You gathered what you could because of time.”

Even if her statement seemed reasonable, I couldn’t take the chance the demon inside of me would find another reason to surface. “You need to return to New York. That should be your home. You’ll be safe there.”

“I’m only safe when I’m with you. I’m not going anywhere. Period. We are going to figure out what happened that night, but not now. Tonight is a reason to celebrate. You passed the tests. You have a new job you’re excited about. We have a roof over our heads. And we have time. You need to close the box and put it away. When it’s the right time, we will find the truth.”

She had no idea how much I wanted to follow her advice. The moment was gut-wrenching. “I don’t think—”

“Shush,” she whispered, placing her fingers across my mouth to interrupt me. “That is what you’re going to do, Edmond. You are not a murderer. The truth will find its way to the surface, but not when you’re like this. It’s time to enjoy life as you were meant to live. As we were meant to live. Can you do that for me?” Her eyes were imploring, her heated breath a velvet blanket. “Trust me, Edmond. Just trust me. Promise me you’ll let it go for now. Just promise me.”

How could I promise her something I wasn’t certain was possible? Yet as I gazed into her imploring eyes, a crack in the steel armor occurred, the jagged sides peeling back, exposing a small amount of hope.

In those few seconds of silence, the anger and horror of what I’d found began to slip away.

And just like that, I closed and locked the mental cell, a prison of darkness that I’d chain, never to see the light. “I promise, but on one condition. That you never look inside that box again.” I could tell she didn’t like my request, but my gut told me that if the pieces were glued together, we’d both be destroyed.

“I promise.”

As I captured her mouth, crushing her body against me, I wanted to believe in goodness, in light, and in the time she believed we had.

But I knew better.

Evil found its way to the surface before truth.

As my phone started to ring, I fell into another moment of despair. The nightmare would never end. No, it was just beginning.

After answering the phone, I closed my eyes. A new career. A new life. If only the anchor of the past wasn’t firmly strapped around my neck.

“Who was it?” she asked after I ended the call.

“My new boss. I have my first client.”

She took long strides toward me, pressing her hands against my chest. As always, the warmth of her touch sent a wave of heat coursing through every muscle. She rose onto her tiptoes, brushing her lips across mine. “We are celebrating.”

Celebrating.

As she moved away, half skipping into the kitchen, I walked toward the open door, staring out at the ocean.

And for the first time in my life, I said a prayer.

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