Page 64 of Dead Love
I pinched my lips shut and he glared down at me. I stared into those dark irises, seeing the vastness that ran deep within him, that he had filled for so long with his compulsive need for destruction. With his hatred.
“You burned down our house,” I said. His jaw ticked. And I knew, then, that it was the truth. “But you’re right. I would have died in that fire if it wasn’t for you.”
“No one died,” he said, his tone stern.I didn’t kill your mother.But somehow, I had this feeling that if she had died in the process, he wouldn’t have cared.
He went to the stairs, then stopped and turned toward me before ascending. “I’ve done so much for you,” he said, his voice a low growl. “They would have let you grow and die in that house. No matter how fucked up this world may seem, that isn’t any way to live.”
I let out a slow, even breath. “I know.” But that didn’t change the fact that he had ripped me from my life.
His steps pounded up the metal staircase like thunder.
“Vincent,” I shouted. At the top of the stairs, he turned toward me. “Could I stay with you at the funeral home tomorrow?” I asked. “I’ll stay in the office. I just—” What was my excuse? “—I just need a break from here.”
He stared down at me, then slammed the door shut without a word.
My heart raced for several minutes after he left. I had to calm myself down. Everything would happen tomorrow, and for now, all I had to do was make it through the night.
So why was I restless?
In the morning, I couldn’t eat the yogurt he had gotten for me. I had no appetite. Then, in Quiet Meadows, Catie opened her mouth to speak to us, but Vincent lifted a hand, and she stayed silent. He pointed to the chair next to his desk and barked out an order to me, “Stay here.”
He stomped to the crematory room, and I stared at the office wall, wondering when my dad and Andrew would show up. It could be hours. My stomach churned and my palms were wet with sweat. I had to figure out a way to make sure that Vincent let me stay for as long as possible.
Then what would I do?
Technically,yes,Vincent deserved to go to jail. But my heart wouldn’t let those words sit in my chest. He was different. He did bad things for reasons he thought were right.
I couldn’t figure out if that made it okay.
I dug through his desk drawers and filing cabinet, trying to find something that would explain the truth underneath it all. If I found evidence that proved that he was as bad as Andrew said he was, then by doing this, Iwasdoing the right thing. But I didn’t find anything. Paperwork. A loose brush. A tube of acrylic paint.
An hour later, Catie opened the door, glancing down the hallway as she did.
“I’m going to your mother’s hotel,” she said quietly. “Come with me.”
I had the chance. I could gonow.But that felt wrong too.
“Get up,” she said. “I can take you to your mother. Everything will be fine.”
But I didn’twantto go to my mother’s. Being with her wouldn’t fix anything. In fact, it might make it worse.
“Kora?” Catie asked. Finally, I looked her in the eyes. She stared at me, waiting. “Are you coming?”
I didn’t say anything.
“Go through the back door,” she said, “I’m parked to the side of the building. I’ll wait five minutes. But after that, I have to go.”
She left the door and argued with Vincent in the crematory before heading out. The clock above Vincent’s desk ticked by. But I couldn’t move. I couldn’t make myself go back to that life yet.
So why had I called Andrew?
In the distance, an engine started. I tucked hair behind my ear, biting my bottom lip. I knew what had happened; I had panicked. I had called Andrew because it was the right thing to do. Because I had to do it. Vincent was a bad man, someone who deserved to be in jail.
But I couldn’t seem to accept that.
I needed to fix this.
My stomach leaped into my throat as I burst through the door, finding him in the lobby, speaking to an older couple in a quiet voice, his head bowed. All three of them startled, turning toward me. Tears formed in my eyes.
