Page 40 of Jagged Line Paradise

She nods and scurries off before I can put her in her place again. I turn back toward Avalon, expecting a thank you, but instead, she shoves me square in the chest.

“I don’t need you to speak for me. You’re soarrogant,” she spits out the word with emphasized fury. “You don’t have a clue what I’ve been through, what I went through with your father. You didn’t even stick around long enough to hear my story. And you’re not some precious angel that God sent down from Heaven to save our tragic souls by telling this story. The story has already been told, Andrés.” She keeps talking, but my brain stops processing when she says my name. The way it slips out from between her pink lips...fuck. “It’s notyour story to tell. You have no right coming back here. You have no right manipulating these poor families into telling their stories yet again, just so that you can benefit.”

I’m a little lost right now watching her speak and I don’t have a clue why. It’s just...it’s interesting watching her face. It’s like watching a dream. It’s a tangible memory, exactly as I thought before.

“Are you even listening to me? Holywow.” She chuckles. “You’re not evenlisteningto me. You know what?” She throws up her hands. “Fine. You do whatever the hell you wanna do, just leave me alone while you’re here, okay? I don’t want to see you.”

She turns on her heel and starts stomping away again.

“I don’t believe you,” I call after her.

I wait until she stops and spins to face me again. Her wavy, ginger hair whips around her face dramatically—just like when we were young.

Have Igone back in time?

When her eyes find mine, I smirk at her. It’s the smirk I only use when Julia isn’t available and I need to pick up a girl to fuck. It’s fake as hell, but it works.

Except, it doesn’t work on Avalon—she sees right through my bullshit. Her eyebrows slant down toward her nose and her face contorts in an expression of...disgust?

Shit.

She shakes her head at me, then turns and walks away.

The tear in my soul that ripped open when I left her—the one I thought I’d stitched back up— just snagged, and it threatens to unravel entirely.

Chapter 13

Avalon

“I DON’T BELIEVEyou,”he’d said in that arrogant tone.

He doesn’t believe that I don’t want tosee him? He’s delusional if he thinks that Ido. Did he think I would be glad that he’s here? Did he think he’d just smile atme and magically erase all the history and hurt? ThatI’d forget how he left me behind? That I’d give in and do the interview for that uselessmovie?

He doesn’t know me at all.

I didn’t feel anything when I saw him standing there, all tall and strong in a perfectly cut suit. His dark chocolate eyes didn’t draw me in the way they did when we were teenagers. His black hair didn’t make me itch with desire to run my fingers through it and hold his head to my neck as he kissed and licked—

No.

I cannot let that memory of my eighteenth birthday creep in. I can’t let myself recall a single blissful moment that I shared with Andrés, because if I do, it’s going to hurt. It’s going to hurt like hell because I can’t think of eighteen-year-old Andrés without thinking of the way he touched me, the way he loved me, the brutal way he left me, and my torment at the hands of the Canyon Carver in between.

He hurt me so much more than I can explain when he left me. He moved on to bigger and better things, instead of sticking around and proving his worth when I needed him the most.

“Avalon,” he calls after me and I can hear his footsteps padding along the sandy hill behind me.

I tell myself to keep moving, keep walking, don’t acknowledge him, but my stupid,stupidfeet have already stopped me.

“Avalon,” he says as his hand closes around my wrist.

I should jerk my hand away. I want to, but I don’t. I just let him tug on my wrist to spin me toward him, and it’s as though he’s tugging a string in my heart, too. I can’t help but search for his eyes, meeting his dark gaze as he lets out a sigh. He watches me for a beat and it’s unnerving. His stare digs deep, searching for truth when I refuse to give it.

“I want to talk,” he finally says.

“About what?” I make my words snap and decide this is when I need to pull my arm free, so I do.

“About this documentary. About why I’m here. About life. I just want to talk, Avalon. It’s been a long fucking time.”

“Yes, it has. It’s been a long time, but we have nothing to talk about.”

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