Page 131 of Forget Me Not

He doesn’t like it.

“Who are you?” I repeat, fully turning to face him, my back against the window. “What made you want to be alone? What made you think you’re a monster, undeserving of love?”

“Nova,” he warns, cutting me off, but I keep going because I need to know the truth.

“Why don’t you speak about your family? There are so many questions I have, constantly, but I’m scared to hurt you by asking them. You’re such a good man, but yet you hide behind the guise of the grump who doesn’t want to be bothered.”

“Stop.”

“No,” I argue, fighting back the angry tears that slip down my cheeks. Reid’s jaw feathers, his teeth clenched so hard I worry he might break one. “I’m not asking you to stay. I know you won’t. I’m just asking for the truth, Reid.”

I suck in a shallow breath, willing myself to calm down. This is not the conversation I planned on having tonight, if ever, but now that I’ve thought about it, I can’t move past it.

“Why won’t you let me in?”

“I . . .” he starts, but he cuts himself off, tapping his finger on the table.

He won’t tell me.

I should have never opened myself up to him. Now I’m the needy girl on the island he can’t wait to leave, practically begging him to give me something he’s already said he won’t. He can make me come, he can make me romantic candlelit dinners. He can even do the dirtiest things to me and make me feel like the only other person in the world.

He won’t open himself up to me, though.

Quietly, I make my way to the door, shame rushing through me like a black cloud, fighting to suck all the oxygen from my body.

“I murdered my father.”

I freeze, feet unable to move from my spot in the doorway.

Murder?

Surely, I didn’t hear him correctly.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, voice darker than I’ve ever heard it. “I murdered my own father. Is that what you wanted to hear?”

Slowly, I suck in a deep breath, forcing myself to turn around and face him. He’s still at the table, but the hard set of his face is cold. Like he expects me to run screaming right this very instant and tell anyone who will listen.

My voice cracks when I try to speak, but I force the words out past the lump forming in my throat. “I thought you said he died by falling off the boat?”

“He did,” Reid shrugs, as if it’s just a simple misunderstanding. “I just didn’t tell you I pushed him.”

Tears pool in my eyes, threatening to spill over. This isn’t real. There are dark things in this world. I knew that . . . but from the man I’m falling in love with?

“You asked me about my first time with a woman?” His voice is higher, pissed off like he knows this will be the end of us. Like whatever he says will make me leave and he’s already resigned himself to that fate. “My dad’s girlfriend. I was twelve.”

My stomach bucks at the anguish in his voice. The little boy—that scared little boy I imagined . . . I have a habit of imagining the worst. Especially since the accident. I never thought it would actually be reality.

Reid stands from the chair, taking the bottle of wine and popping the cork, downing a gulp before he sets it back down so hard, I worry it will break. I stay by the doorway, crossing my arms over myself because my mind is spinning with everything he’s confessing to me.

He paces across the room, his mouth set in a line of grim uncertainty. As if he can’t believe he’s confessing this. Like he already regrets it.

“I told you my dad was an abusive drunk. That much was true. I just didn’t tell you his girlfriend snuck into my bed one night when he beat her. She held me. Seemed innocent enough. I was twelve. Next thing I knew, it was done and Dad found out. Beat me so bad I had a couple broken ribs. Black eye. It was the summer, so school didn’t matter. The girlfriend left. I was forced to stay.”

My chest grows cold as the horror of the situation sets in. “Reid . . .”

He ignores me, shaking his head in disgust, as if the memories are something he blames himself for. My eyes burn, a few tears escaping and slipping down my cheeks, but I don’t stop them.

“Dad took me out on the boat the next weekend because he wanted to drink his feelings away. He was still pissed at me. I was still black and blue. He got drunk, as always, and started screaming at me about his woman.” Reid shakes his head, chuckling darkly. “As if I fucking knew what I was doing.”

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