Page 158 of Never Die for a Sinner
I glance toward the door. Ava’s just outside, talking to the nurse, her expression bright and animated in a way I rarely see.
And for some reason, I can’t look away.
“She’s learning to take care of herself,” I say, my voice low.
“When her mother met her father, I was ecstatic. A wealthy heir who seemed to worship the ground she walked on. But . . . like all roses, they have a way of cutting you when you least expect it. That man is trouble. Not only to my daughter . . . but to his, as well.”
“What do you mean?”
Her eyes grow wary, and she glances at the door.
“Let’s just say money can buy anything, but that doesn’t mean it should.” She lowers her voice, leaning closer. “You’ll protect her, if it comes to that. Won’t you?”
I swallow past the lump in my throat as lead fills my chest.
“I will.”
“There are things in this life she’s not ready for,” Gran continues. Her tone has shifted—no more teasing, no more soft smiles. Just raw truth. “And I’m only saying this because I might not get another chance.”
Here we go . . .
“She’s got a soft heart, Levi. Always has. But she’s never quite known where to put it. If you’re not going to stick around—if this is temporary for you—then leave now. Because that girl’s already falling for you.”
She pauses, holding my gaze with iron resolve.
“I’d hate to see her crash.”
AVA
Ialways liked looking at the city from afar.”
Levi glances over at me from the other side of his car, the faint glow of the dashboard casting sharp angles across his face. His expression is unreadable, as always — a locked vault behind glacier-blue eyes.
After we left Gran, we went and got cheap fast food and soda that’s probably laced with chemicals. Now, we’re sitting up on the overlook above the city. The food is delicious and there’s a calm I’m not used to hanging in the air. For the first time in mylife, I feel . . . normal. Like an average twenty-something-year-old out with her boyfriend for a midnight snack.
Sure, he’s not my boyfriend, and sure, there’s the distinct crushing feeling of dread always at the back of my mind, but for once, it’s not so loud. For once, leaving Gran, I don’t feel like I’m leaving behind a piece of myself.
“Just a bunch of buildings,” Levi murmurs, leaning against the car door like he’s trying to disappear into the night. “I’ve always preferred the forest.”
“The silence,” I say, more to myself than to him.
He doesn’t respond right away, but then his voice drops even lower.
“Yeah . . . the silence.”
We sit like that for a while — two figures parked on the edge of the world, suspended above the city lights. From up here, everything seems quieter. The chaos is distant, softened into something almost beautiful. But I know better. I know what kind of ugliness hides behind those golden windows.
Like whatever’s on Levi’s mind. He’s been quiet since we left Pleasant Oaks, and I can’t help but worry it’s too much for him.
My life, my problems. This contract. Maybe the end is close, and I’m just too naïve to recognize when it’s time to walk away.
“It’s because of your childhood,” I say after a long moment. I glance at him, half-expecting his walls to go up. But I need him to know, I see him. That I understand him, even if he doesn’t say it out loud. “That’s why you prefer the forest. The silence.”
Levi doesn’t answer right away, but when I look over, I find him already watching me. There’s something soft in his eyes — not quite vulnerability, but whatever comes before it.
“I feel the same way.”
He turns away, focusing again on the lights below like he’s trying to read something in the distance.
