Page 36 of Diamond Angel

“You’ve been waiting for me, Taylor. You might not admit that to yourself, but I saw your face in the diner. You’ve been waiting for me to find you for five endless years.”

“Th-that’s not true…”

He shakes his head, his breath tickling my nose. “I know you, Taylor Theron. Better than every single person in this town. Better than your own father. He looks at you and sees a little girl who was manipulated into wanting me. But I see the truth. I see the woman who made her own choices a long time ago.”

“No.”

“Yes.” His grip tightens. “The night you met me was the first time you made a decision that was purely for yourself. Youchoseme.”

A sob escapes through my lips. “And that choice has destroyed everything that ever meant anything to me.”

“Because you refused to own it!” he yells. “And now, you’ve made a mockery out of my life as well as yours. You keep saying you don’t want to hurt anyone, but that’s all you ever do. You’re hurting everyone around you by burying your head in the sand, and even still, you don’t. Fucking. Care.”

I shudder back from his dark gaze. He releases me at last, but I don’t stumble back the way I expected to. I stand there, pinned to the spot, and drown in the full force of his fury. Maybe I deserve it; maybe I don’t. It’s hard for me to think when his words keep swirling in my head like a tidal wave.

I swallow hard and try to find my bearings. “You’ve heard my condition,” I say, sticking to my guns, because they’re all I have keeping me upright. “And I’m not compromising on it.”

His face passes through half a dozen emotions. Most of them don’t have names. I see them in the patterns of tension across his lips, the storms in his eyes, the way he swallows and breathes and consumes every spare bit of oxygen in the room.

Then, at last, he sighs. “For the moment, I will accept that.” It might be a short-lived victory, but I take it anyway. “We’ll leave tomorrow morning.”

“No.”

“No?”

“I have goodbyes to say in this town before I leave. I need more time.”

He doesn’t look happy. “You don’t have friends here, Taylor.”

“I have Mabel,” I snap. “And Callan.”

His eyes narrow, but he doesn’t say anything. “Fine,” he huffs, heading for the door. “You have two more nights. Then we’re leaving.”

I let loose a sigh of relief, but it’s not even halfway through my lips before he stops and whirls back around.

“By the way,” he says, looming huge in the threshold, “if your goodbye with Callan involves any physical contact, I’m going to tear his tongue out through his throat. That’smycondition.”

Hearing the jealous threat shouldn’t be so satisfying. And yet…

Fuck.

Me.

15

TAYLOR

Mabel is sprawled out across my bed, eating a slice of homemade pizza from the open box I’m ignoring while I pack.

She’s supposed to be helping me get ready to leave. But she seems more content to just “supervise.” Which, in Mabel’s world, means talking smack.

“I wish you’d told me all of this before,” she remarks, slurping up a strand of cheese. “I mean, really, you’re way more interesting than I thought.”

“Gee, thanks.” I roll up an old sweater that I decide is too nostalgic to donate.

“I’m just saying, I could have provided you with insight. Advice. Encouragement.”

“You would have told me to go back home, tell my sister the truth, and face my fears head-on.”

---