Page 115 of Redeeming the Villain

“What am I going to do with you?” he murmurs.

“Keep me?” I whisper, pressing my lips into his before pulling back.

He closes the distance between us, his mouth on mine in a heartbeat. “Letting you go has never been an option.”

Glass shards decorate the pavement as I push myself to my feet, my entire body numb. A roar of heat pulses to my right, and I turn my head to it, blinking rapidly to clear my vision.

As I squint my eyes, the orange blur shifts into hungry flames, lapping at the oxygen around the burning car.

What happened?

His purple eyes appear in my mind, and my heart drops.

Micah.

A roar tears through me, his name a prayer, slicing through the air around me. “Micah!”

“Malik!”

Hands are on my shoulders, and without thought, I swing at the blurry face above me, my fist colliding with a strong jaw.

He’s not going to get away with this.

“Malik!”

The familiar voice suddenly registers. It’s not my uncle yelling my name, but Griffin.

Rubbing my eyes, I wince. “I’m sorry, bro. Fuck, my bad.”

He steps away from me and leans against the fireplace. “It’s been a while since you had one of those.”

I sigh as agonizing pain strikes my heart. “It’s about right. It’s almost the twenty-first.”

He knows what happened on that date … Micah was killed.

“I know, man. I’m sorry,” he says genuinely, knowing some of the pain I’m facing.

“I’m sorry if I woke you or something …” I trail off, covering my eyes with the back of my hand, blocking out the blinding light that he must have turned on when he came in.

“You’re good. You’re not the only one who’s woken up, screaming, in this house before,” he admits, and I remember when he told me Blair had to come and shake him awake a time or two.

“And that’s why you’re my best friend.” I grin.

He chuckles. “Because I also have terrible recurring nightmares?”

Lifting my hand, I glare at him. “No, smart-ass. Because of ourtrauma.”

“Oh, right.” He clicks his tongue.

A moment of silence passes between us, as neither of us quite knows what to say.

“Do you want to talk about it? Was it Micah?”

Nodding, I sit up, back myself against the headboard, and wipe the beading sweat from my forehead. “Yeah …”But there’s more to it than that.

“The accident?” he asks, and I nod.

“Fuck,” I grumble, tossing my head into my hands, fighting the real story trying to come out, something I’m starting to get really exhausted by. “So many times, I wish it had been me that night. I mean, shit, every time I think about it, I feel that way.”

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