Page 73 of Dead Love
And I wanted him to see it all.
“One day, you’ll wake up and you’ll realize none of this matters,” he said, his eyes searching mine, his grip on my chin firm. “Your dreams. Your failures. These tears.” He dragged his fingertip along my cheek, painting me in my own sorrow. “None of this will matter.” He leaned in, our faces close. “I promise.”
His words laid on my lips, as if I could taste them. “Who are you?” I asked.
“I’m no one.” He cupped the back of my head, his fingers tangling in my hair, and kissed my forehead, dirt smudging me. Then he turned away, walking down the sidewalk, his boots heavy on the cement.
I stood on the viewpoint, watching his shadow disappear, until it was like he had never existed at all. A group of costumed children knocked into my sides, but I was hypnotized, unable to comprehend what had just happened. A stranger had kissed my forehead. A man. A stranger. He hadn’t tried to hurt me like my mother had sworn they would all do. But he had spoken to me like I was his equal. He had even tried to cheer me up.
And for a few seconds, I wasn’t thinking about my parents, or college, or my sick stomach.
It was all him.
I had to remember his words. These feelings with my mother, with my father, of wanting what I couldn’t have—he was right; none of it mattered. The only thing that was truly important was making sure that I did right with what I had. And if that meant taking a few more years to find a solution where I could do what I wanted, and still make my family proud, then that’s what I would do. My father might have been a neglectful jerk, and my mother might have been obsessive to the point of insanity, but they were stillmyfamily. So I could bottle these emotions and do something useful for once. I could take that man’s words to heart andmove on.Because tears were never useful. But living was.
I ran a hand across my forehead. Dirt smeared my fingertips, proof that he was real.
There were questions I wanted to ask him. So many questions.
I wanted him to teach me exactly what he meant.
CHAPTER24
Kora
PRESENT
Vincent’s coal-blackeyes threatened me. Everything went quiet in the lobby of Quiet Meadows. I had wanted to be free more than anything for so long, and I kept telling myself that now, I finally was. But a sudden coldness expanded in the center of my rib cage, bursting out. Was this really happening?
“You’re under arrest for the abduction of Kora Nova—” Andrew said.
“Tell them, Kora!” Vincent shouted.
Everything spewed out of me, landing on the floor. My father patted my back, mumbling nice words, but he hated when this happened. I wiped my mouth on the back of my hand. Everything felt wrong.
So why couldn’t I stop it?
“Are you all right?” the older man asked.
His wife grabbed his arm. “Yes, dear. Are you—”
“She’s fine,” my father said.
“You have the right to remain silent,” Andrew continued. “Anything you say may be used against you in a court of law.”
“That’s right, you sonofabitch,” my father muttered. “No one hurts the Novas.”
But Vincent hadn’t hurt me. Not like that. But my father didn’t care.
“Kora!” Vincent howled. “Tell them!”
One day, you’ll wake up and you’ll realize none of this matters.
Those words seemed so real now, like I finally understood what he meant. College. The greenhouse. This idea of freedom. There were bigger things at play. Things that mattered. And everything that I had thought ruled my world, never actually did.
“Kora!” Vincent shouted.
Once the older couple left, Andrew handed off Vincent to my father, then put his arm around my shoulder. His embrace was full of dead weight. I shrank underneath him. Vincent glared daggers as Andrew waggled his fingers.
