Page 122 of Manacled Hearts

“It’s not the same,” I snap back.

“Isn’t it?”

“This is not just about me.”

“You came after me, Evelyn. You insisted even as I kept repeating that crossing this line is a mistake. You pushed. What the fuck did you think would happen once we got here?”

“I…” I don’t know.

Maybe I didn’t think this far. Because I had it in my mind that Finnigan was different. The perpetual playboy who doesn’t get attached.

You lie, Evelyn.

Maybe I thought that at first, but it’s not what kept me here, still interested. It was hope that he was the exact opposite of that beneath his charmingly slutty exterior.

“You what? Was this all just a game to you?” he asks with both anger and a tinge of disappointment in his tone, and the sound cracks a part of me, making me feel like a terrible person.

“No, it wasn’t a game.” There’s little confidence in my voice.

“Then? What did you expect to find once we came together? What do you want from me, Evelyn? And don’t you dare tell me you just wanted to fuck me, because I refuse to believe you are the type.”

“Maybe you overestimated me,” I fight back because there is no way I can get into this now.

I have no answer for him. There is one, weighing my soul deep down, but I can’t even acknowledge it for myself.

“Maybe I did.”

His words crash down on me, and I swallow the bitter emotions they bring, but I can’t hide away from the impact. It’s right here, staring at me with sharp eyes, challenging me, and what scares me more is the trace of desire to retreat that gazes back. I’m doing this, I’m responsible for pulling him out of his shell, just to push him back down again.

But this is not all on me. It can’t be. He wanted me gone not that long ago, so I’m just giving him what he wanted.

“Staying in Queenscove was never a permanent arrangement, I just needed time. You know this. After all, you wanted to help me leave.” There’s a clear bite in my tone. It wasn’t help he was offering—he was paying me off.

Finnigan narrows his brows, crossing his arms against his chest, and takes a step back. “So that’s it then? You decided?”

I stand by the kitchen island, suppressing the need to wrap my arms around myself. “Not yet. There are still things I need to sort first.”

“Well, hopefully you’ll decide to share with me when you make a fucking decision.”

“Why are you acting like you tell me everything, and I’m the bad one who hides stuff from you, Finnigan?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I know I can’t be the only one who spent the night. I know that the revenge on Bartiste is not just about what they’ve done to me! Annika’s friend, right? That’s all she was…” Though I’m sure of the words, they don’t taste as good as I thought they would when I speak them. Now, they feel like a low blow.

His arms drop to the sides, his gaze filling with something akin to dismay.

“Since then, Evelyn. Since then there has been no one else. And even then…” He trails off, but those words turn my stomach into a flutter of wings.

“Even then… what?” I ask in a whisper.

He shakes his head and looks away, sighing. “I’m gonna go dress. Be ready in forty minutes.” And just like that, he turns to leave.

“No!” I snap back loud enough that his steps stall.

One by one the thick muscles of his back flex and seem to expand, his stance menacingly stern and somehow wider. I urge myself to continue, because if I don’t speak now, I might not be able to once he turns around.

“Maybe I’ve been insisting exactly because of this! I know you want me, I know you like me. You’ve constantly pushed me away for no rational reason!” That came out much louder than I thought it would, but damn it, I’m pissed.

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