Page 100 of Bound to a Killer
The woman behind the window appears just then, pulling me out of whatever I intend to say. Her voice is flat and tired as she passes over a grease-soaked, piping hot paper bag. She doesn’t seem like the observant type, her brain scattered from the late-night shift as she fumbles with the receipt, slipping it over without another word.
I shift gears, pulling out of the line as an incoming car takes our place. Silence hangs between us as I search for some place quiet to park.
“Eat something.”
There’s a large spread of options for her to choose from, but I find myself second-guessing the order again, wondering if she’d prefer something else.
The bag rustles beside me. “Thank you.”
I give a small nod like it’s nothing. The least I can do is not send her home hungry after ruining, arguably, the most important night of her year.
“You should’ve told me he was threatening you,” I say, my jaw tight.
She looks down, fixated on the steaming bag over her lap. The fries jut out the top, filling the space with the warm, salty scent of the potatoes, stirring a hunger I hadn’t noticed until now.
“I thought I could handle it,” she says.
“It doesn’t matter,” I clip, easing the car into a shaded lot beside a foreclosed strip mall. The lettering on the windows is partially peeled, and the atmosphere quiet, private enough to park. “You never take your chances with any guy. Ever. And you especially don’t try to go up against them on your own. You should’ve told somebody.”
Anybody.
It didn’t even have to be me.
What would she have done if I hadn’t been there? If I hadn’t intervened? Rage simmers in my veins, thundering in my ears as flashes of his hands on her flood my mind, shaking her like she was his possession.
I should’ve ripped his head off.
“You weren’t really going to hurt him, were you?” she asks, her voice small. Hopeful.
My heart splinters as I bite down my response, suddenly hyperaware of how much I don’t want to disappoint her. The truth is there aren’t any limits to what I’d have done if it had gone farther.
“Not any more than he would’ve deserved,” I finally say.
She captures her bottom lip with her teeth, not pressing me any further. I can tell it’s so she won’t have to hear what she already suspects I’d say instead.
We sit in silence, our focus drifting back onto the food, her nibbling at a few fries to quiet the rumble in her stomach while I inhale one of the burgers.
As the night tunnels to a close, my decision settles in, solid and final. Aria can’t keep going through life the way she was. Not alone. She needs someone in her corner, watching out for her, even if that someone is a relic of violence with blood on his hands. I’m all she’s got.
29
ARIA
“Ican’t believe you didn’t tell me,” Clara says, one leg folded on top of my neatly made bed. “That idiot. I swear I could wring his neck for what he did.”
There’s a slight twitch on the side of my face as she sayswring, not knowing just how close of a reality that could’ve been.
Heat creeps up my neck, flushing my cheeks as Clara’s lips curve into a knowing grin. “So, who’s the other guy?”
I blink at her, heart clinched.
Laughing, she flicks her hair back, leans forward, and snags the scrunchie from her wrist with her teeth in one smooth, practiced move. “Come on,” she mumbles around it, twisting it into a messy knot at the top of her head. “Itotallyknew there was someone else when I first mentioned Jayce to you. You had that look. So, fess up, who’s the guy?”
My heart jumps. The discomfort of sifting through an answer quickly enough to not appear like an outright lie is overwhelming, spreading too fast to keep pace with, like trying to swim against a current with no sense of where the shore is,destined to go under before I even have the chance to fight the waves.
Her eyebrow quirks, already catching onto the shift, the distant glaze forming over my eyes. She cocks her head to the side, lips parting, but nothing comes out. Then—“Is he who you were with during…that time?”
Intuitively, I catch myself nodding before I’ve even given myself a moment to think through what I’m doing. Clara stills. Her expression is unreadable as she goes quiet, like she is piecing it all together.
