Page 81 of Behind the Shadows
I frowned as I crossed my arms over my chest, putting a physical boundary between us so I wouldn’t grab her and carry her to the bedroom.
“What do you mean?”
“Let’s sit down. First, I need a glass of wine. Would you like a drink?”
She walked to the cabinet and opened it, revealing a few bottles of red wine, a bottle of vodka, and two bottles of whiskey.
“I think some whiskey would be good. Something tells me this is going to be a helluva night,” I said She had no idea.
After we settled on the couch with our drinks and turned to each other, I waited for the bomb to drop—that we were blood, that I’d fallen in love with my sister, that every kiss was another scar waiting to happen. Beads of sweat broke out on my forehead, and anxiety caught in my throat.
“I’m not sure how to say this.” She shifted on the cushion, clearly nervous.
“Just say it, Holland. I think I know what you’re going to say. There’s no easy way, so put us out of our misery.”
She tilted her head, a gentle expression softening her features. “Oh, you think I don’t want to see you anymore?”
“Something like that.”
She scooted closer to me and placed her hand on my thigh as she kissed me softly.
I should’ve stopped her. My body begged me to let her. But my soul? It was already hers.
“That’s not what this is about. Not at all,” she said against my mouth.
I wrapped my fingers gently around the back of her neck, inhaling her scent as our lips met with a desperate intensity that felt like my very existence hinged on her. It did, and yet, I had to convince myself to let go. Her soft moan vibrated through our kiss, our tongues entwining as I sought more of her taste, teasing and yearning.
But then, she pulled back, a smile on her lips. “I want you too, but we really need to talk. This can’t be put off any longer.” Her words hung between us, leaving me torn between desire and the gravity of what lay ahead.
Little did she know that would be the last time I kissed her in that way. It felt wrong to want her, yet I couldn’t deny that I did, which meant I was forced to deal with the inevitable—saying goodbye for good.
“Listen, when you blacked out and choked me, there was something strange about it all.”
Her words made me flinch internally, torn between shame and curiosity.
“I'm not telling you this to make you feel guilty, Kip. In fact, I think I know what happened.”
I was both intrigued and apprehensive. “You do?”
“I had a client years ago who had been abused and tortured, but it went further than that.” There was a hint of excitement in her tone, and it unnerved me.
“What do you mean?” I asked, needing to understand but fearing the truth.
“Kip, not only were you drugged over and over, but …”
35
KIP
The air pressed in, thick and heavy, making it almost impossible to breathe as I waited for her to speak.
“Not only were you drugged, but, Kip also … you were conditioned. Reprogrammed. And I think I know who did it,” she said, her voice calm but somehow more chilling for it. “And what’s worse, however your mother and uncle did it, I think they still have some kind of hold on you.”
Doubt and denial swirled inside me—a storm I couldn’t escape—leaving me caught between wanting to dismiss her words yet feeling the uneasy sense that maybe she was right.
“Why do you think this?” I needed more puzzle pieces than she was giving me.
“Your lapses in time and not knowing what happened, the drug use, the manipulation. I think it was more than the heroin.”
