Page 92 of Lie to Me

And it would have been, because there’s no way in hell I would ever let that girl go if I didn’t have to for the sake of her safety.

Though, for the sake of my sanity, I’m not sure I’m much better off.

I didn’t think it would be this hard, forcing myself to stay away from her.

I figured it’d be like when the other guys I knew broke up with their girls; they’d get over it eventually and move on.

Not me.

Not with her.

It’s been nearly five years, and I still can’t bring myself to even go near another woman. I’m honestly not sure I’ll ever want to.

Those six months or so with Sloane were the best months of my life, and I relive them daily.

If I try hard enough, I can still smell her scent, I can still hear her voice, I can still feel her touch.

Though one thing that has helped me is the voicemail she once left me when she was late to my place. I only allow myself to listen to it once a year as a way to try and curb the temptation. So I made listening to the voicemail an annual thing, on the day that would have been our anniversary.

I press play before bringing the phone to my ear and holding it there while my free hand grabs the glass of whiskey from the table, knowing I’m going to need it.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I know I should be there right now, but I promise you I’ll see you as soon as I can! I have had theworstday and I can’t wait to see you so we can just chill and you can make me feel better.”Her voice echoes across the line, laughter in her tone which makes my eyes sting.

“I’m on my way, so you better be ready for me. I’ll see you soon, Marco.”

The voicemail cuts off, and it’s only then that I realize there’s blood dripping from my hand as I clutch the broken glass in my palm while whiskey drips from my skin to the floor, looking like the teardrops that are begging to be released from my eyes.

Chapter Forty-Eight

Marco

Present

The sound of Sloane’s voice on the voicemail that kept me going for ten years fades as I blink my eyes open. An incessant beeping replacing the melodic sound of her voice.

I’m in a white room, one that I don’t recognize, and it takes me a moment to remember everything that happened.

Nolan O’Brien.

The cabin.

Him putting a knife to Sloane’s gut and me finally snapping.

My family arriving.

Me getting stabbed.

How the fuck am I alive?

“Pure luck,” a muttering voice says, and I realize I must have said that last part out loud. I turn my head to find out wherethe voice was coming from, only to find my dad and both of my brothers sitting beside my bed.

And it’s only then that I realize I’m in a hospital room.

I glance around the room, looking for the one person who will be able to bring me a little peace in this moment, only to come up empty.

“Where is she?” I croak, but my family ignores me. Instead, opting to press for the doctor to come in, presumably to tell them I’m awake.

“I said, where is she?” I ask, my voice harder this time, clearer, and a hell of a lot more urgent.

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