Page 133 of Forget Me Not

He chuckles darkly, the air between us thrumming with electricity.

Suddenly, he lifts me so fast, I think I’m falling, even though I know he’s got me, and he deposits me on top of the rickety old table.

“Are you afraid of death?” he asks suddenly, his legs parting mine as he stands between them. My heartbeat picks up when his eyes travel the length of my body, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

I think about it for a moment, but the more I do, the more I realize I already know the answer.

“No,” I breathe when he leans over me. “The only thing that scares me is that my life won’t have any meaning.”

He must not like that answer because a crease forms between his brows.

“Me too, little bird. Me too.”

She should have run. I wouldn’t have blamed her.

There’s a part of me that’s pissed at her for accepting me, telling me she doesn’t think poorly of me for the bad shit I’ve done. Maybe if she had, I wouldn’t be stuck in my own head right now, torn between losing her and losing a new chance at life.

I’m not the man that’s there for the long haul. I’m not the rock when she needs it most. I’m not her pillar of strength and I’m for damn sure not the person that deserves redemption at her hands.

I told her before. I’m a fucking monster. I’ve murdered. I’ve got blood on my hands that would stain her pretty, pale skin. I’m not the man for her. I know it. God knows it. Fucking everyone knows it.

Except for her.

She still thinks there’s hope for me. I know better.

That being said, when she asks me to stay with her, I do. When she pulls me into the shower with her and asks me to fuck her, I do. When she asks me to hold her, I fucking do because, like an addict, I crave her, body and soul.

I’m finding it hard to navigate these feelings that I’ve never felt before. I feel like a pussy. Like this singular creature under six feet tall has taken control of me, beckoning me to kneel at her feet; give myself to her in ways I never have in my life.

And she doesn’t even realize she’s doing it.

I get to the docks later than I mean to in the morning, not rolling in until six. Nova was just so fucking warm and sweet that when she nuzzled further into me, I couldn’t wake her.

Manto’s already there, but instead of the rental we’ve been using, he’s sitting on the deck of Hope’s Grace where she floats in the water.

“Hey, Al,” I greet when I enter the shop. He’s his usual grumpy self behind the counter, though instead of sliding the papers for the rental across to me, it’s the receipt for Hope’s Grace.

“Finally done. Five weeks goes by fast, doesn’t it?”

I nod, though I’ve been steadily trying not to think about this all coming to an end in just a few short days.

“Where you headed today?”

“East,” I murmur, still staring down at the paper in front of me. Five fucking weeks. In five weeks, I feel like my entire life has changed.

“Still dead-set on leaving?”

I glance up at Al, who’s leaning back in his chair, watching me from those beady eyes. Like he can see right through me.

“Yeah,” I nod, shoving the receipt in my coat pocket. “Next week.”

“Sure you don’t want to stay here? The town needs more strong workers like you. You’ve really helped turn that inn around.”

I nod, purposely working to keep my emotions neutral. It’s not every day Al gives out a compliment. Or as close to one as he can get.

“Thanks. Means a lot from you, Al.”

Al looks around him, making sure none of the workers in the shop are paying attention before finally turning his cold, hard, steel-blue gaze back on me.

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