Page 23 of Wicked Promises (Fallen Royals 3)

It hurts to see him, because all I want to do is throw myself into his arms. He found me. Took me to the hospital. Detective Masters arrested him. But it wasn’t Caleb. I know that deep in my bones.

And yet…

“Your mom said it was nothing,” he says.

“She was trying to minimize it. I know that now. And you—” I break off.

What did he say the first time we went into his house?

One day I’m going to fuck you on this counter. And then he did.

He did, and he didn’t have any regrets, even knowing—

“I never claimed to be the nice guy.” He comes closer and reaches for me. “If you’re remembering that day in the kitchen…”

“I hate you for that.” The image is burned behind my eyelids—my mom and his dad. “For putting me in that position.”

“Literally,” he adds, smirking. “But, Margo, there are dark memories all over that house. How are we ever going to move on if we don’t erase them?”

I push at his chest.

I’ve been so stupid. I thought the truth was going to release me. But it turns out, it’s just another shackle.

He tugs on my wrists. I fall into him, unable to stop myself.

“You forget, love. I wasn’t the one to block away my memories. I’ve been living with the truth for years.”

He’s totally right. I had forgotten—both that he knew and that he refused to tell me. How foolish. My emotions are on a pendulum swing.

His eyes see too much. I slip away from him and go to the window. My room is a wreck—the first thing I did when I got home was yank it apart, and now I feel like I’m bleeding from every seam.

“Matt?” he asks.

I jerk. “He kept apologizing. I finally opened my eyes when he picked me up—it sounded like he wanted to take me to the hospital.”

“He didn’t.”

He exhales noisily behind me. My bed creaks as Caleb sits. “He didn’t take you to the hospital. I found—”

I don’t hear him get up, but suddenly he’s behind me. His hand lands on mine, stopping my fingers. I had been scratching at my wrist again.

His lips press into the top of my head. Two points of contact.

“You’re going to haunt my memories.”

I close my eyes. He’s haunting mine, too.

“And I’m sorry, but I need you to touch me.”

I turn slowly. Touch him?

I don’t deserve that.

“It feels like you’re not really here,” he whispers. “I’m going to wake up in bed and you’ll still be missing.”

My chest aches.

I raise my hand. One touch won’t kill us.

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