Page 40 of Wicked Riddles & Bitter Heartbeats

When her sobs stop and her body settles, I pick her up and bring her to the car so we can go back to the hotel. I carry her up to our room and lay her in bed. I get her undressed and under the thick comforter, before getting naked and climbing in after her. She curls up, burying her face against my chest and wrapping her arms around me.

“It’s okay, Kitten. I’m going to handle it. I’m going to take care of him for you.” I kiss her forehead. “Whatever he did, I’ll make him regret it.” I keep my voice soft and calm even though I’m speaking evil things. Something tells me what I’ve imagined doing to him doesn’t come close to what he did to Lilah. And no one hurts my kitten and gets away with it.

Chapter Eighteen

Lilah

There’s a soft knock on the door before it’s being opened. I lift my forehead from the tiled wall and stretch my neck back to go under the water. I run my fingers through my wet hair, massaging my scalp because I have a headache that won’t go away.

“Kitten, you don’t have to do this,” Atticus says from the other side of the shower curtain.

“I know.” My voice sounds stronger than I feel.

Doing this for Atticus isn’t what has me feeling weak, though. It was seeing my uncle. I thought I was done with him, that I’d never have to see him again. He moved to Virginia because he got a job with the FBI, meaning he was far from Boston—far from me. He had no ties to Boston and no reason to comeback. I should have known running into him at the conference was a possibility, but I was so caught up in Atticus that I hadn’t thought about it. He hasn’t been a part of my life since I ran away at seventeen, when I could no longer take it.

“I won’t be angry with you,” Atticus says.

“I know that, too.”

I appreciate that he’s worried about me—that he cares at all. Not many people care about me. My father. Atticus. That’s it.

When I finish washing my hair and my body, I turn the water off and pull the shower curtain back. Atticus is standing there with a towel. He unfolds it, holding it open for me, so I step into it, and he wraps it around me but doesn’t let go. I rest my cheek on his chest, my wet hair soaking his shirt. He’ll have to change it, and though it’s an inconvenience, I know he won’t mind. Not for me.

I expect him to tell me I can change my mind again. It’s how the whole morning has gone and why I disappeared into the bathroom to take a shower. Atticus is worried about me, and I love that, but I’m also sick of hearing it. I’m tired of being a fragile little girl who can’t do things. I won’t be that person anymore. I pretend to be strong all the time, but deep down… strong is not what I am. I want to be though. So instead of just pretending to be strong from now on, I am actually going to do it. I’m going to do things that scare me, and little by little, I’m going to get stronger.

And right now, it begins with going back to the hotel to talk to Atticus’s brother for him.

He told me he literally ran into his brother this morning, while we were eating the breakfast he had delivered to the room. I’m not surprised his brother was so rude to him. We aren’t called Massholes around here for nothing.

Cruelty is easier to find than kindness these days.

I step to the sink, tightening the towel so it doesn’t fall, and pick up the brush to run it through my hair. Atticus leans against the long counter top, crossing his arms and watching me. I moisturize my skin and braid my hair.

“You know I’m going to kill him, right?”

I pause, halfway to putting my toothbrush in my mouth.

“You’re not stopping me,” he adds.

I snap out of it, and instead, start brushing my teeth.

Be strong.

He watches me the entire time, waiting for me to speak. He knows I’m going to, and he’s right. When I’m finished and my toothbrush is away, I say, “You can’t.”

“Want to make a bet?” he asks, his voice dark.

“I know youcan,but you shouldn’t. He’s a cop.”

“I don’t care who the fuck he is. He’s dead.”

“Atticus—”

“No,” he says firmly, slashing his hand through the air. His eyes are dark, brows pinched. “You have no say in this, Lilah.”

“That’s not fair!” I argue.

“I don’t care about what’sfairwhen it comes to you.”

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