Page 47 of Beyond the Blue Horizon
Another beat of silence, his tattooed hands tapping anxiously on the wheel as he stared ahead. Then he glanced my way, and his deep voice lowered farther. Rolling through the cab like a seductive caress. “That accident wasn’t your fault, you know. Black ice is fuckin’ impossible to see, especially if you’re not familiar with it. The terrain you were traveling makes it even worse.”
Blowing out a sigh, I fiddled with the zipper on my purse. “I know, but accidents always make you feel like you did something wrong, don’t they?”
Since it happened, my mind had spun with everything I could have done differently.
Theo grunted as he slowed and flicked on his blinker to make a left onto Culberry Street.
I remembered from last night it was the main street that ran through the middle of the small town.
“Yeah. Think we all wish we had hindsight. Wish we could go back and change every misstep we make. Know I’d change a million things.” Regret twined with his words.
Deep and gutting.
His flesh oozing shame.
I didn’t even want to consider the things he might have done. The things he might have been involved in. All while a very reckless part of me wanted to dip my fingers all the way in.
Air puffed from my nose as I sank into the heated seats, the warmth pumping from the vents wrapping me in a comfort that I shouldn’t feel.
“Same,” I murmured in the quiet.
It was the only thing I could give him that felt safe.
Easy.
Zero actual details.
It wasn’t like every person on Earth didn’t have regrets.
But with the way the man peered over at me, I might as well have revealed my darkest secret.
It felt like he could cut me wide open and see everything written inside.
“What would you change?” An unholy grin tugged at the edge of his mouth.
Pure manipulation.
“You tell me first.” Who said a little deflection ever hurt anything?
That grin grew. “You interested in me, Piper Whittman?”
I almost blinked in question, then remembered that was the last name I’d thrown out when Dr. Reynolds had asked for my name and date of birth.
I hadn’t given my real last name in years.
I managed a huff. “Not at all. Just making conversation so I can get this awful excursion over faster.”
His chuckle was raw, and amusement ridged every line on his face. “Little Liar.”
My mouth dropped open as I whirled toward him. “Did you just call me a liar?”
He shrugged, nothing but arrogance rolling off him. “If it fits.”
“I am not a liar.”
Okay, that’s the only thing that my life was.
Lies.
