Contents (85)
- Contents
- Part I
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-One
- Twenty-Two
- Twenty-Three
- Twenty-Four
- Twenty-Five
- Twenty-Six
- Twenty-Seven
- Twenty-Eight
- Twenty-Nine
- Part II
- Thirty
- Thirty-One
- Thirty-Two
- Thirty-Three
- Thirty-Four
- Thirty-Five
- Thirty-Six
- Thirty-Seven
- Thirty-Eight
- Thirty-Nine
- Forty
- Forty-One
- Forty-Two
- Forty-Three
- Part III
- Forty-Four
- Forty-Five
- Forty-Six
- Forty-Seven
- Forty-Eight
- Forty-Nine
- Fifty
- Fifty-One
- Fifty-Two
- Fifty-Three
- Fifty-Four
- Fifty-Five
- Fifty-Six
- Fifty-Seven
- Fifty-Eight
- Fifty-Nine
- Sixty
- Sixty-One
- Sixty-Two
- Sixty-Three
- Sixty-Four
- Sixty-Five
- Sixty-Six
- Sixty-Seven
- Sixty-Eight
- Sixty-Nine
- Seventy
- Seventy-One
- Seventy-Two
- One
- Two
- Reading Group Guide
- A Conversation with the Author
- Acknowledgments
- About the Author
I finish the kiss as quickly as I started it, leaning back in my seat and steadying myself.
“That was unexpected,” he said. “And amazing.”
I say what I’m thinking, without filtering any words. “I needed to prove to myself I can still get what I want.”
“So you kissed me on a bet with yourself?”
I look over, then place my left hand on his arm. “Kind of. But it’s what I wanted. I hope it’s what you wanted, too.”
“Yeah, it was.”
“Good.” I stroke his arm for a moment. “My mind is all over the place, so I think I’m going to call it a night. And I left Max over at his cousin’s house, which he wasn’t crazy about, and I don’t want him over there too long.”
“You okay to drive?” he asks.
“Yes,” I say, not knowing if it’s the truth or not. I’m still a little dizzy, but I’m not sure that’s the alcohol.
“I’d like to see you again.”
“You will.” I reach forward for a last, light kiss, breathing him in just enough to unsteady myself all over again. I open the door, tell him good night, and get out of the car. The night is cool and crisp, swallowing me.
No, I tell the night. You don’t swallow me.
I suck in a deep breath, bringing the cold and dark into my lungs, filling me up. Then I release the air back into the night, a part of me forever attached to it.
I swallow you.
Thirty-Seven
An intricate fall wreath adorns the door of my sister’s house. Woven branches festooned with fiery-red and muted-yellow leaves, and it’s even large enough to accommodate four miniature pumpkins. Cora loves to decorate for holidays, if for nothing other than to showcase on social media. This is one of her Thanksgiving decorations, and many more are inside. Artificial cheer.
I knock, and when no one hears me, I walk in.
I had a sitter lined up who canceled at the last moment, so I asked Cora if Max could hang out with Willow for a few hours. I almost canceled plans with Alec rather than rely on Cora but then figured it would be good to make another attempt, a soft approach at establishing some kind of normal family relations.
Though I’m still not sure that’s even what I want.
I call out at half volume.
“Hello?”
No answer. There’s something alluring about them not knowing I’m here, as if I might see Cora and her family in their natural habitat and not hidden behind plastic smiles and ceramic cornucopias. I walk into the empty kitchen. The book Max brought over is on the counter, a two-hundred pager I’d never heard of before but is a collection of short nonfiction stories about famous criminals. Al Capone, John Dillinger, Lee Harvey Oswald, and the like. It’s written for a young audience, and he told me he wanted to know more about criminal cases since I was a mystery writer, so I allowed it.