“Do it.”

He jolted when he heard a dull thump on the pebbles, the chips hitting them.

“I can’t wait any more, I can’t have this dragged out. Do it.”

“Do what?”

“Please end this.”

Sebastian held his throat, and he tilted his head back, exposing it, giving Sebastian more space to work with, a better grip. He knew it would hurt, he might even panic and try to stop it from happening, claw at Sebastian’s hand, but in the end, he’d get weaker, he’d accept the inevitable, and let go.

Sebastian didn’t apply any pressure, he didn’t squeeze, or suddenly clutch with force. He’d didn’t do anything, and it made Rory’s heart pound, and his head spin. He listened to the wind, could taste salt on his lips, and smell the sea. He waited for it, bobbed his head in encouragement, pleaded with the twitch of his brow, and the wobble of his lip.

He wanted Sebastian to do it.

Chapter Twenty-One

The pressure on his throat vanished, and Rory slowly opened his eyes.

Sebastian was still looking at him in the same horror-struck manner. Eyes huge, frown denting his brow, and lips slightly parted as he panted for breath.

“You think I’m gonna kill you?”

“That’s why we’re here, isn’t it?”

“No!”

“The gloves, the bag, the secluded area out of sight of the road… You hate me.”

“I don’t hate you. I put the gloves on because it’s cold…”

Rory licked his lips. “You’ve bought me down here, out of sight.”

“There’s a bench over there, quiet, where we can talk.”

“The bag?”

“It’s been raining Rory, the bench will be wet. I bought the bag so we could sit on it.”

“You keep asking to know the time?”

Sebastian scrunched up his nose. “And why do you think that is?”

Rory ducked his head. “So you know when the tide’s going out—”

“So I can what? Make sure it takes your body away? You think I’m gonna strangle you, shove you in a bag, and throw you in the sea?”

“I dunno—”

“Jesus Christ!” Sebastian took a few steps away and clutched his head. “Are you serious right now? You thought I was gonna kill you, and you went along with it?”

“I don’t blame you for wanting me dead. I keep trying to apologize, to explain, but you cut me off.”

“I don’t want an apology.”

“Then what do you want?”

Sebastian cursed at the sky, then advanced on Rory. He snagged his wrist hard, then dragged him up the beach. “I want you to come here.”

Rory spotted the bench ahead. “To talk?”

“For me to talk. For me to explain.” Sebastian sighed.

“I don’t understand.”

“That’s the problem.”

He pulled the plastic bag out of his pocket and covered a patch on the bench. “Now sit.”