Chapters (46)
- Title Page
- Copyright Page
- Dedication
- Acknowledgements
- 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
- thirty
- thirty-one
- thirty-two
- thirty-three
- thirty-four
- thirty-five
- thirty-six
- thirty-seven
- thirty-eight
- thirty-nine
- forty
- forty-one
- forty-two
The look on his face then—the sympathy and the pain—was almost enough to make me break down completely, and when he reached for me, I imagined myself collapsing against him, how good it would feel—eight years of pain washing away. But I couldn’t. I stepped back, teeth gritting, sparks flying.
“Go away.”
“No, Savannah.”
He stepped forward again.
“I said go away!”
My hands flew up to ward him off, and he sailed off his feet, chin jerking up like he’d been hit with an invisible uppercut. He crashed to the ground, keys sailing from his hand, blood gushing from his nose.
I ran over. “I didn’t mean—” I stopped. Swayed. Looked down at him, dazed and bleeding. I stepped back. “Don’t you see? I never mean it. Never. But it doesn’t matter. My mother. My father. Paige. Michael. Paula. Kayla. Everything I touch, everyone I touch.”
“Not me.” He pushed to his feet. “I’m not going anywhere, Savannah.”
“No, you’re not,” I whispered. “You’re staying right where you are. Because you know not to come any closer.”
He screwed up his face. His nose gushed again and he swiped the blood aside, impatient. “What?”
“Nothing.”
He moved in front of me. “There, is this close enough?”
I said nothing. He took another step, so close I could smell the blood.
“Still seems safe,” he said.
“Don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
I lifted my gaze to his. “Don’t mock me.”
He looked me in the eye. “I’d never mock you, Savannah. I know you’re hurting and you’re going to lash out, and if you need to do that, then I’m right here. Lash away. I can handle it. Just don’t do this to yourself. You want a target? Use me.”
I started to shake. I clenched my hands to stop it. Waves of energy pulsed from my fists. Sparks popped, singeing his clothes, burning his skin. He only stepped closer, eyes locking on mine.
I stumbled back. Then I ran. I scooped up the keys and I ran, and I didn’t care how immature it looked, what he thought of me for it. I took his keys and I ran because if I stayed, he’d get hurt. Or I would.
I ran to the Jeep, leaped inside, and pulled away from the curb, tires chirping, dust flying, seeing him out of the corner of my eye, but not daring to look. Just get away. Get away fast. Get away far.
forty-two
forty-two
I drove to the motel. I grabbed my things, stuffed them into my bag, and took off on my bike, leaving the Jeep behind, keys on the bed where Adam could find them.