Page 127 of Never Fall for an Angel

CHRISTIAN

Did you have fun today?”

Mila peers at me over her shoulder as we climb the path up to the cottage, me carrying the bags of clothes we got her today. She’s got her shoes in her hand, her bare toes on display, and the moonlight dancing across her golden hair. The moon is high in the sky, thunder rumbling off the coast. It won’t be long until it starts to pour, which means we’ll spend the night inside. Me listening and her reading.

“I . . . did. I had the most fun I’ve had in a long time,” she smiles, and it does some shit to my chest. I’m starting to thinkshe’s got a fucking telekinetic bond with the bullet still there. “Thank you for taking me off the island. And for getting me clothes. And for showing me the proper way to win that ring toss game.”

“What was your favorite part?”

Her cheeks flame and I know what she’s thinking. Can’t say I disagree with her.

“The cheese on a stick.”

Fucking gross.

“That it?”

“And . . . I think I have a new appreciation for the Ferris Wheel. Even though that was my first time on one.” She looks out over the water behind me. “Washington is beautiful.”

“It grows on you,” I murmur, shifting all the bags to one hand and slipping my fingers around hers. She lets me, and for once, she doesn’t shrink away from my touch.

“I’m sure it does,” she says softly, her bare toes padding along the cobbled stone path.

Something twists inside me. “Not sure?”

“I like it just fine, but . . . I mean, I haven’t exactly gotten to see much of it. Besides the island, of course.”

Guilt washes through me, but I push it back. I’m doing this to keep her safe. It’s not permanent.

“You said your brother texted you earlier. Is everything okay?”

Fuck.

“We’ve got some shit to work out,” I murmur, scrubbing a hand over the back of my neck.

“Sounds like most families.”

“Most days, I want to kill the fucker,” I grumble. “I know the feeling’s mutual.”

“Oh,” she says softly, falling silent as we near the front door.

“But . . .” I concede, tugging her hand until she comes to a stop on the steps. “My brother and sister are two of the three people in the world that mean the most to me.”

Her eyes widen, her lips parting on a silent breath when she stares up at me through thick lashes.

“And who’s the other?”

Reaching up, I brush my knuckles down the side of her face. “I’m not sure they exist anymore, but I’ll never stop searching for them.”

She’s silent, soft gray gaze searching mine, and in the dark, the words come easily. It’s easy to face the past when she can’t feel how hard my heart’s beating. When she can’t see the tightness of my jaw or know of the bitter acid burning the back of my throat when I think about that summer we spent wrapped in each other.

“How long are you going to hate me for leaving?” I ask quietly because I know there’s a part of both of us that can’t move past it. She probably feels that if I hadn’t left, she never would have been attacked.

Oddly enough, I can’t get the same thoughts out of my head.

“I . . .” she starts, only for the words to fall and her lips to clamp shut.

I told her once she can’t hide from me. I meant it more than she’ll ever understand.

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