I examined my bloodshot eyes in the mirror of my bathroom, applying another layer of scarlet-hued gloss on my lips.
Guess that’s what three days without sleep would do to you: red-rimmed eyes and a lip color to match. But I couldn’t get through to Knight, no matter how hard I tried. I’d waited for him outside his door every morning. He’d breezed past me, usually with his phone glued to his ear, ignoring my existence all the way to his Aston Martin. I’d nearly fallen, trying to climb up to his window again, only to find it secured and locked. I’d waited for him in his gym’s reception area, pretending to be reading a brochure about hot yoga classes, only to have security personnel sent to tell me that a gentleman had requested I leave the premises so he could walk back to his car.
Knight treated me like a common stalker. And, if I were being honest with myself, I wasn’t exactly not one. I just needed him to hear me out.
Now, we were about to go to the Spencers’ for our annual Thanksgiving dinner, and we were going to share a table, and a meal, and a space, whether he liked it or not. I was going to sit across from, or next to him, and I didn’t know if I was elated to finally get to see his face, or terrified of seeing what was on it.
I tapped the rich, crème ceramic of the sink, shifting from foot to foot on the checked black and white marble of our heated floors, ignoring the messages popping on my phone, which was propped on the edge of the counter.
Josh: Everything okay?
Josh: You’re probably busy. Just tell me you’re good when you have time? ☺
“Baby, we don’t want to be late. Are you finishing up?” Dad called from downstairs.
Racer simultaneously knocked on the bathroom door, shouting, “Luna, Luna, Lunatic! Come on!”
“Don’t call your sister that, you little rascal,” Edie chided from downstairs.
She was so PC about my selective muteness, even though sometimes, when we were all alone, I’d actually answer her words. Mainly yes and no. I didn’t know why I felt so comfortable around Edie. A part of me thought she loved me extra hard, because she knew my own mother didn’t.
I tried wiping the redness from my eyes to no avail and opened the door, grabbing my baby brother by the collar and jerking him into a hug. I wore a lavender wrap dress with ruffled edges I’d borrowed from Edie. I hated dresses. There was nothing I liked more than blending in with the furniture and making myself invisible. But desperate times called for desperate measures, and I’d stooped so low as to wear a revealing, tight dress that might make Knight look at me with something that wasn’t sheer hatred and revulsion.
Fine. I was a sellout.
A sellout who needed a way to reach her best friend.
“Wow, Lunatic. You’re really pretty.” Racer squeezed my waist, looking up to scrutinize my face with his big, cobalt eyes.
I took his hand, and we descended the stairs. When Dad and Edie saw me, their eyes flared, but they didn’t comment about the makeup or the dress. They’d gotten tired of asking what was wrong with me and why I wasn’t hanging out with Knight and Vaughn.
Shoot. Vaughn. I hadn’t even considered him as a complication. Had Knight told him about Josh and me? My gut feeling said no, because Knight was overprotective of me. Then again, judging by his behavior the last few days, a reconciliation wasn’t in our cards. One thing was for sure—if Vaughn knew, I would find out tonight. He wasn’t known for his diplomatic skills.
“Beautiful.” Dad kissed my temple, and I relished the tenderness in his voice.
When he let go of me, Edie was there to catch me in an extra-tight hug.
“I don’t know what’s going on, but I’m here.” She clutched me to her chest, whispering in my ear, “I will always be here. I love you.”
We got to the Spencers’ carrying three different casserole dishes, five bottles of wine, and a dessert Dad had ordered especially from Los Angeles. Some fancy hot cakes with ice cream inside them that needed to be consumed at room temperature. Such were the Thanksgiving feasts my parents and their friends hosted—lavish, over-the-top, and picture-perfect.
I was the only imperfect thing about the picture, including the perfect house, perfect meal, and perfect people surrounding me.
Hugs and pleasant small talk ensued the moment we walked through the Spencer family’s door.
Jaime and Melody Followhill were already there with their daughters, Bailey and Daria. Daria’s fiancé, Penn, and his sister, Via, were also there. They were like foster children to the Followhills, which I guess made Daria and Penn’s love affair a little forbidden, but I didn’t judge them. I’d always thought my being with Knight would be weirder. Because we had actually grown up together. I’d seen him in diapers. He’d watched me studying the back of a sanitary pads box for the instructions with horror in my eyes, and had even tried to have a go at how to do it before we’d both toppled over, laughing.
Baron and Emilia Spencer looked Oscar-ready with his second-skin style suit and her pumpkin-hued orange dress—floor length and bare-shouldered. Vaughn, who took pleasure in looking like a hobo, awarded me with half a distant, yet conspiring smile, which meant he definitely wasn’t privy to whatever was going on between Knight and me.
A trickle of hope slithered its way to my gut. If Vaughn didn’t know, that meant my relationship with Knight was salvageable, right? Knight hadn’t said anything that’d make Vaughn see me in a negative light.
He still protected me.
I didn’t even know what my goal was. Up until three days ago, I’d been keen to give this thing with Knight a chance. Then for twenty-four hours or so, I’d been planning a future with Josh—whose messages I’d been dodging the past three days, too hysterical to pay him attention. And all of a sudden my only wish was…what? To get Knight back? He was never mine to begin with. To beg for his forgiveness? He was the one who’d pointed out we were free to mess around with anyone we wanted. Yet I was expected to explain myself. I’d even felt guilty. But now, as I stood here, waiting for my verdict, I wasn’t exactly sure why I had ever agreed to go to trial.
Knight slept with girls. All the time. He flirted and dated and locked them in Vaughn’s media room and did unthinkable things to them behind the dark, wooden doors. He crawled into my bed with their sweet, flowery, needy scents all over him.
Why was I being so apologetic and remorseful? Why would I mess this thing up with Josh to try to soothe Knight’s wounded ego? Why had I let him hinder the entire progress I’d made these past four months, just because he wasn’t comfortable with my new life?
The only thing I was at fault for was slapping him, and that was months ago. But I shouldn’t have done that, and he deserved an apology. But that was the extent of it.
Getting kicked out of gyms, nearly falling off window ledges—why was I indulging his vindictiveness?
Suddenly, my blood simmered with heat. All this time, I’d been trying to apologize for something Knight shoved in my face on a daily basis when we’d lived close to each other.
I excused myself from the adults’ company, waltzing into the Spencers’ kitchen and helping myself to a glass of spicy red port specially prepared by their Portuguese vintner, because of course, when you were a Spencer, having your own vintner was a thing.
I caught Daria—blonde, tall, and too Gigi Hadid to look real—and Penn, who basically looked like Leonardo DiCaprio circa 1996, making out against the kitchen counter and pretended not to notice their picture-ready existence. The doorbell chimed behind us, and they disconnected on a grunt, panting hard and smiling at each other.
I wanted to throw up into my port. Not because I didn’t like them—I did, I loved them, they were a part of my family—but because I knew what, and who, was coming through that door.
“It’s Knight! I’ve been dying to catch up with him.” Daria clapped excitedly, leaving Penn and me in the kitchen together without even sparing me a hello.
We nodded at each other. He leaned against the kitchen counter, jerking his chin my way.
“How’s college?”
I smiled, pointing at him.
He shrugged. “I’m happy wherever she is.” His eyes drifted to the space Daria had occupied a second ago.
That sounded like something Josh would say. Suddenly, I missed Josh. Josh, whose only sin was to be the cause of my rift with Knight.
I unlocked my phone and sent him a quick message, in answer to the ones he’d been bombarding me with.
Luna: Everything is great. Sorry I’ve been silent—a lot has been going on, but it’s okay now. We’re just starting dinner. I miss you, too, and I really can’t wait to get back to Boon. x
When I looked up, the kitchen was suddenly full of people, including Knight, his mother (Rosie), his dad (Dean), and his little brother (Lev). Lev and Racer sneaked together to the great room with Bailey on their heels.
Rosie squeezed me into her wheezing chest and kissed the crown of my head. Dean narrowed his eyes at me playfully, ruffling the hair I’d tried to straighten for the past couple hours.
“Having fun at Boon, Lu?”
I circled my index and thumb in an OK.
“Good, good.”
When it was Knight’s turn to acknowledge me, and all eyes were on us, he tilted his chin up in hello. He didn’t take a second look at my dress, or my made-up face, or my dolled-up hair. Just gave me a nonchalant wink and moved to the port, helping himself to a generous glass. The blush on his cheeks indicated he’d already slipped a shot or four before they’d arrived. He wore a white V-neck shirt, a navy blue blazer, and camel-hued skinny jeans, his hair a delicious, unkempt mess. He was thumbing his phone, not really paying attention to anyone, uncharacteristically distant.
Vaughn, who now stood next to me, looked between us and cleared his throat, silently asking what the hell was going on. Knight scratched his eyebrow, tossing his phone in the air and catching it with precise speed and accuracy.
“Anything to share?” Vaughn grumbled.
Knight threw his entire drink down his throat when our parents weren’t looking, clucking his tongue with a devilish smirk. “Sorry, not into sharing. You never know where shit’s been, you know?”
Vaughn whistled low, looking between us. “And so, the little innocent creature has fangs. The plot thickens.”
I swallowed.
Knight grinned. “Someone’s thick here, all right, but it’s got nothing to do with the plot.”
“You’re butthurt,” Vaughn mused.
“Nah. The only butts in danger of hurting are the ones I’ll be plowing into when we go to Arabella’s party after this boring dinner.” Knight spat out the word boring like I was the one who made it so.
I could feel my anger climbing up my toes, making every cell in my body burn. Arabella? What about Poppy? I wanted to yell my lungs out, but settled for flashing the boys a dazzling, I-don’t-give-a-damn smile, not wanting to cause a scene.
My fury reached another peak when we’d sat at the long dinner table, with brown, hand-decorated china, personal pumpkins painted by Lev and Bailey, yellow candles and handmade napkins sewn with real threads of gold. Everybody was chatting, laughing, and drinking warm cider and wine, enjoying their butter-roasted turkey. Knight sat next to me, probably because he knew he’d be bombarded with concerned questions if he didn’t, and continued texting under the table, taking no part in the conversation.
“Put the phone down, son,” Dean said at one point, and Knight didn’t even look up from the screen.
Dean put his glass of water on the table—he never drank alcohol—and looked directly at Knight with the familiar intensity of a man who could set the sky ablaze.
“Honey,” Rosie tried, dabbing a napkin at the sides of her mouth.
This time, Knight did look up, tucking his phone in his front pocket. It was one of the things I loved about Knight the most. He was respectful and loving to his mother.
“Sorry, Ma.”
“Sorry sounds right,” Dean muttered into his forkful of white asparagus.
“I agree. Sounds are awesome. I love sounds.” Knight threw his arms in the air, digging into his food all of a sudden like he’d been starving for days. I shrank into my seat next to him, staring at my meal like it was going to help me if I begged it hard enough with my eyes. I had a lot to say to Knight, but I couldn’t do it at the table.
“Do you have anything to say?” Edie, with her no-bullshit approach, speared Knight with a look, her utensils clattering to her plate.
“Plenty, Mrs. Rexroth. I have plenty of things to say,” he chirped.
I knew, even though he could hide the signs from others, he was drunk. Again. Knight had always been careful with alcohol, at least up until Vaughn’s party, so this was alarming.
Then again, I hadn’t been here for a few months. Maybe this was his new normal?
“You’re walking on thin ice,” Dean warned in front of all of us, which I knew would only push Knight over the edge. He was a carbon copy of his father. When pushed, he pressed harder.
Knight smiled, tossing a piece of roasted yam into his mouth and chewing. “I’ve been good at breaking things lately. One more layer isn’t going to make any difference.”
“Okay, now,” Emilia’s voice rang out over what was beginning to sound a lot like a fight between Knight and everyone else at the table. “Change of subject. Are you guys going to do something interesting before Luna goes back to college?” She looked between me, Knight, and Vaughn.
I wanted to die right there and then. Emilia obviously hadn’t paid attention to the general mood. Knight snorted out a laugh and shook his head. Frowning, I turned around to face him. I was reaching my tipping point, but I really, really, really didn’t want to ruin it for everyone else.
He surprised me by looking directly at me for the first time in four days.
My eyes told him to shut up.
Honestly? My mouth almost did, too.
“Oh, look. Luna’s puppy eyes. My favorite guilt trip.” He smirked, turning around and addressing the entire table. “To your question, Aunt Emilia, I’m not sure if I’m going to do something nice before Luna’s departure, but I sure as hell know Luna did something nice this past weekend. So nice, in fact, that her partner thanked her for the precious gift. She’s always been charitable, this one.”
I choked on my water, trying to cough out the liquid that slipped through the wrong pipe.
Now all the utensils at the table dropped in unison. Someone gasped. A chair scraped back, and I realized it was my father who’d stood up. Edie shot up right after him, clutching his shoulder in warning.
Baron Spencer leaned back in his seat at the head of the table. “Boy. Excuse yourself right now before your stupid jeans aren’t the only thing that’s distressed about you.”
“Happily, Uncle Vicious.” Knight smiled, throwing his uncle’s dodgy reputation back at them before standing up and strolling toward the stairs.
My father made a move to follow Knight at the same time Dean did, but my legs willed themselves to push me up and raise my open palm in warning. I needed to speak to him. Alone.
“I’m going to kill him,” Dad hissed, his voice so full of power and disdain, I wondered what kind of man he’d been when he was Knight’s age.
It hurt that I couldn’t even look him in the eye when he said that, because all I could think of was that he knew I’d had sex.
“Be my guest,” I mouthed. “But first, let me deal with him.”
I stalked up toward Knight, trying to digest what had happened at the table. He’d basically told our entire extended circle that I’d slept with someone. He’d ratted me out. I moved up the stairs and through the door of the media room, which he’d left open, knowing I was following him.
He laughed bitterly, walking over to the bar by the window and plucking a bottle of water from a mini fridge. I caught him before he had the chance to unscrew the cap, spinning him in place by his shoulder so he faced me. I started signing to him with my hands, but he captured both my wrists, shocking me as he backed me against the wall until my spine hit it lightly, his eyes completely dead.
I was barely able to hold in my gasp. Knight had never touched me in a way that wasn’t warm, fuzzy, and fully consensual. His smile told me he’d figured my mind couldn’t wrap around this new way of touching, and we were now playing by different rules. His eyes were as red as mine—he obviously hadn’t gotten a lot of sleep, either—but it was everything else about him I couldn’t read. I realized it didn’t matter if it was fair or not; Knight wasn’t faking the pain. He was devastated, and I couldn’t deny his feelings, no matter how hypocritical it was of him to act on them.
The heart doesn’t ask for permission to feel things. It simply feels.
“Now, now, Moonshine. You’re not like your little boyfriend, Josh Cooper. You have vocal cords, and if you’re too pussy to use them, you obviously don’t want to patch shit up badly enough.”
Josh Cooper. He knew Josh’s last name. How had he found out? It didn’t matter. What mattered was that my hands were still clasped in his fists, and I was trying to wiggle them free, feeling my heart pounding so hard I thought it was going to escape my chest. He taunted me. Challenged me. He never had before.
Tears made my eyes sting, but I dared not let them fall. I heard people arguing behind the closed doors of the room. His fingers tightened around my flesh.
“Leave us the fuck alone,” Knight yelled at the door, still staring at me.
I heard some more arguing, then Vaughn opened the door and peeked inside. He looked directly at me, with a nonchalance that implied he’d come to ask what would be our favorable dessert.
When he saw the scene playing before him, he grinned. “Finally, some tough love.”
“Shut up,” Knight snapped.
“Loon, they want to know you’re okay,” Vaughn said flatly.
I nodded. I didn’t know why I nodded. I wasn’t okay. Far from it. But I was going to see this thing through with Knight, no matter the outcome.
“Remember, Knight. She can talk. Make her.”
Vaughn closed the door with a chuckle, and I looked back to Knight, hoping I didn’t appear as frightened as I felt.
“He’s right.” Knight licked his lips, growling. “You can, and you will. If you want me in your life, that is.”
I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. He smiled devilishly. I never knew he could be like this. So cold. So mean. Such a bully.
“Not up for it, Moonshine? Let’s try another tactic. Was he good?” he sneered, his tone dark and low, his breath fanning my face gently. “Did you come?”
I was so blindly hurt by his behavior, I actually pretended to think about it. The answer, by the way, was no. It wasn’t that Josh wasn’t good or gentle—he was both those things. It just hurt too much. Physically. Mentally.
But watching Knight’s face morph from cocky to unsure was worth it. For the first time since I’d known him, I took Knight’s pain and drank from it like a well of strength.
He’d hurt me, so I hurt him back.
I felt the tears pushing their way down my cheeks, but held my chin up, staring at him defiantly. He schooled his features, leaned toward me, and brushed his nose along my cheek.
“Did you think of me when he fucked you?” His lips curled into a smirk I could somehow feel deep in the pit of my stomach.
I shuddered, feeling my jaw clenching. My knee was close to his groin. I could kick him from this angle. I wanted to. His nose grazed my ear seductively, his tongue slipped out, the warm metal of his piercing flicking my earlobe.
“Tell me, did he fuck you hard, or slow? Probably slow, huh? Josh Cooper seems like a nice chap. A good, solid…”
I went for it. I kneed his balls. Only I wasn’t as fast as Knight, who was a spectacular athlete. He moved back just in time, grabbing the back of my knee, spinning me in place, and throwing me against the wall as he boxed me from behind.
Trapped. I was trapped. Between this giant guy’s arms. A guy I no longer really knew, or could even trust.
“It was a mistake!”
I slapped the wall I was pressed against, the words piercing my throat and burning it with their intensity and weight.
I swiveled around. He let me. His eyes widened for a moment. I’d given him what he wanted, my words, and now he didn’t know what to do with them.
Frankly, neither did I.
Crap, I’d talked.
I’d talked to Knight.
I’d said something.
Produced words from my mouth.
Jesus Christ. I’d done it. I did it.
And it hadn’t been to tell him I loved him, that I wanted him, that I’d ached for him for years. We were fighting. Breaking. Putting an end to things that hadn’t even begun.
I opened my mouth again, tracing the words, saying them quieter now.
“It. Was. A. Mistake. Not the part where I gave Josh a chance—but that I did it for the wrong reasons, while drinking.”
I didn’t mean to smile. The situation definitely didn’t call for it. But I couldn’t help myself. I’d tried to get to this breakthrough with dozens of therapists. And, in true Luna Rexroth fashion, it had arrived at the worst possible time.
Knight took a step back, his face still grave, but somehow entertained at the same time. He was a dash of the boy who’d give me the entire world, thrown in with a giant, hard man who fought any positive feeling toward me.
“Were you conscious?” His voice was strained.
I didn’t want to lie.
I nodded.
He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Then it really wasn’t a mistake. Unless you slipped on his dick with your legs spread, I’m pretty sure it was intentional. There’s a fucking limit to one’s clumsiness. Even if that someone is you.”
My smile collapsed; my eyebrows furrowed.
“Knight…” I said his name. Another different word. A word I’d practiced in secret for years.
He ran a hand through his hair, drawing a calming breath. The pain was smeared all over his face, like a sloppy painting. “Nah. It’s cool. My fault. You need to be a special type of stupid to allow yourself to feel for your best friend what I felt for you.”
Felt. Past tense.
But he’d felt something for me? I took a step toward him, cupping his cheeks, but he removed my hands from his face. My mouth quivered from the words it had produced earlier. Knight’s eyes were shining, the first time I’d seen him anywhere close to tears.
“You’re killing me, Luna Rexroth.” He groaned, producing the sound I’d thought I’d pull out of him with a knee to the balls.
“I’m killing you, Knight? Have you ever stopped to wonder that maybe, just maybe, you killed me a long time ago?”
The words flooded from my mouth now. I felt alive. Raw. Real. I didn’t even know I’d been feeling unreal up until now.
“Every day at school, your arm slung over a different girl’s shoulder? Every time you smirked at your phone, texting someone else? Tenth grade, Jamie Percy yelled in the cafeteria that you took her virginity in the back of your car. Eleventh grade, your parents were called into school because there was a rumor going around that you’d initiated a threesome with two seniors. I died a thousand deaths before I inflicted the slightest of pain on your beautiful, tarnished heart.”
Having a photographic memory sucked. I remembered every detail about our lives, and it poured out of my mouth without control. I couldn’t stop myself now. Even if I wanted to. And I was beginning to want to. A lot.
“You slept with so many girls, Knight. Arabella. Shay. Belle. Dana. Fiona. Ren. Janet. Staci. Dozens of them. Or was it hundreds? Wait, there was also Hannah. Kristen. Sarah. Kayla—”
“Enough!” he roared.
Knight disappeared from my sight like a demon. I turned around to see him blazing toward the Xbox, tearing it from its hub and throwing it against the wall. I jumped back as he plucked the TV from the wall, smashing it against the couch before ripping the couch apart. He then turned around to me, stretching his arms wide, as if he were some sort of a game show host.
“Funny story time, Luna. You may want to sit down for this one. There were, as it happens, no other girls. None. I actually waited for you. I’m. A. Goddamn. Fucking. Virgin! Let that sink in for a second.”
His voice boomed so loud, I was pretty sure everyone downstairs, and behind the door, heard, too.
“Those stories you’ve heard? That was all they are. Stories. I saved myself for you like a goddamn Jonas brother. Forgive me for not wearing a purity ring and shitting all over my reputation just to appease your never-ending, silent demands that I need somehow, miraculously, to predict.”
His fingers danced in the air, like my wants and needs were some kind of dark magic he wasn’t capable of deciphering.
“The only reason I even associated myself with girls was so I wouldn’t get shit from my friends, and to take some of the pressure off of you—so you didn’t think you were holding me back or something. Because, as a matter of fact, you were. I’ve been holding back for so long, you feel like a chain. A heavy, metal chain. I want to rip you apart, Luna Rexroth. I’ve been wanting to break away from you for a long fucking time, but you’re stronger than me. Than this.” He motioned between us, finally collapsing on the tattered couch, exhausted.
Speechless, a little hurt, and a lot proud, I felt my heart swelling in my chest to a point it took over my entire body.
It popped like a balloon the next minute when I realized his gesture was worthless now. He’d spoken about it in past tense. He’d waited. But no more. Now he wanted nothing to do with me. And why would he? I’d broken our silent pact. I was no longer a virgin.
“I appreciate that you saved yourself for me, but how was I supposed to know this? By the power of telepathy? The rumors were relentless, and you made out with Arabella in front of my face. Hell, you had Poppy’s tongue shoved so far down your throat I was afraid she’d scoop out your tonsils in one picture. She posted it on Instagram. And what about all the girls I smelled on you when you came to sleep at my place? I had no reason to believe you were anything less than a walking, talking, sexually transmitted disease.”
“Arabella was a one-off. I was drunk and vindictive and frustrated. The scent of other girls? That was just me hanging out with them. Nothing more. You can ask Vaughn and Hunter. They’ll vouch for me, because they always laughed at me for it. Poppy…”
He stood up, taking a step toward me, bracketing my face with his big, warm palms. For some reason, I couldn’t find the gesture reassuring. I was pretty sure he was going to crush me with his next words. He was going to show me exactly what happened when you made the legendary Knight Cole look like a fool, or worse—feel like one.
“Poppy and I did a charity thing for cystic fibrosis. For my mom. The parents at All Saints High were to donate a dollar for every Like she got on Instagram. We were chosen at random by the student body. I didn’t even know her until two weeks ago, and I’m definitely, definitely not dating her.”
I wanted to fall down to my knees and beg for his forgiveness, tell him Josh was great, but he wasn’t him. That he was the one. That he’d brought his point home. And, for the first time in seventeen years, I could tell him all those things. I could speak to Knight, even if to no one else. If I was being honest with myself, there was no one else I’d rather speak to than him. He was the center of my world.
“Do you love him?” Knight asked.
I shook my head. “No. I don’t love Josh. He is sweet, but—”
“Save me the superlatives on Josh, Little Miss Clueless. Give me your phone.” He reached his open palm to me.
“Why?” My voice was a little husky, a lot feminine.
I wondered what Knight thought about it. I looked down and saw the goosebumps on his arms when I talked, and it gave me a foolish hope that maybe things were still salvageable between us.
“I’m tired of feeling like the safe option you never want to take.”
You were never the safe option. You are so risky, the idea of you makes my heart squeeze in my chest.
I started to give him my phone and stopped when I realized Josh must’ve answered the text message I’d sent him earlier, in the kitchen. And that Knight wasn’t interested in my explanation at all, just to be proven right. The whole reason for this fight was because we weren’t honest with each other, so him going through my phone would be more of the same bullshit. Him not trusting me. No, thank you.
Knight’s face morphed into the sad triumph of a man who’d predicted the apocalypse, and now watched the fire of the sun blazing through forests and oceans and cities.
“No.” My voice was barely a breath. “I’m so sorry, Knight. You either hear me out or you walk away empty-handed.”
His lips curled with content disgust, something I never thought possible. “The first words she ever speaks to me in her life, and she decides to break my heart with them. For the longest time, I wished I could unthink you. Unlove you. Unbreathe you. I think I finally can.”
He reached toward me, pressing his lips against my forehead. He didn’t seem mad anymore, and that scared me. When he was breaking things around the room, at least I knew he was coping. Hurting. Working through whatever it was we were up against.
Now, with a clarity so piercing it burned my skin like a fresh cut, I realized the gravity of what had happened in the last few months. I’d lost my best friend and gained something worse than an enemy—an indifferent acquaintance.
We stared at each other with eyes full of tears. Only he was smiling, and I felt on the verge of dying.
“Please,” I whispered. “Please, Knight.”
“You have a beautiful voice.” His hand slipped from my cheek to graze my jawline. He slanted my chin up so I could see the full tilt of his smile.
“Please,” I repeated, begging. More wasted words. They felt like diamonds scattered on the floor after a burglary. With no one to claim them.
He pressed his lips to my hair. “Remember when I told you I always get even?”
I blinked. When had he said that? The treehouse. Yes.
I nodded, defeated.
“Well, Moonshine, it’s payback time.”
