Atone (Recovered Innocence #2)(26)
“Not the way you’re making it sound.”
“Then in what way?”
She dances away again. All this over and around is making me dizzy.
“Just stop!”
My outburst freezes her on top of the bed and she looks down at me like she won. I dive for her, knocking her legs out from under her, careful to aim her so she hits the bed and not the floor. Pulling her by the ankles, I drag her toward me and lean down over her, right in her face.
“I’m f*cking pissed off at her!”
“I thought she was perrrrrfect.”
“Perfect people don’t f*ck your best friend!”
“Oh, shit.”
“Perfect people don’t abort your baby and then act like you made them do it.”
“Jesus.”
“Perfect people don’t torture you imagining what that baby would’ve looked like.”
“Oh, my God.”
“And perfect people don’t get raped and murdered by some sick f*ck so you can’t be mad at them for all the f*cked-up things they put you through before they died.”
“Oh, Beau.”
“Are you f*cking happy now?”
She puts her hands on my face. “I’m so sorry.”
“I love her, but I f*cking hate her. You’re not supposed to hate someone who died the way she did. It’s not f*cking right.”
“None of it is right. What she did to you or what happened to her. It’s okay. It’s okay.”
She presses her lips to my face over and over. Her kisses are wet, and then I realize it’s me. I’m f*cking crying like a f*cking baby, which pisses me off even more. Goddamn it. I roll off her onto my back and scrub my hands over my face. She brings my arm around her and lays her head on my chest, holding me tight. She dries my face with my T-shirt. I’m tired. I’m so f*cking tired.
I’ve been holding it all in for six years. I couldn’t tell anyone any of this. Not my lawyers, not Cora, no one. It would’ve been more evidence to pile on the mountain they already had against me. It wouldn’t have helped me and it wouldn’t have brought her back. So I buried it, carrying it around inside me like a parasitic twin that fed off my good memories of Cassandra until I hardly had any left and I hated myself.
Chapter 12
Vera
Beau stares at the ceiling, tears flowing from the corners of his eyes into his hair. I’m not sure he realizes he’s crying or if he even knows I’m here. He’s somewhere else in his head. Since the dam broke, he hasn’t stopped talking. All of the thoughts and feelings he’s kept boarded up for the past six years keep flowing like a bleeding wound that can’t be stanched.
“I don’t really hate her,” he mumbles. “I shouldn’t have said any of that shit about her.”
“I know you don’t,” I tell him, stroking his face. “It’s okay to be mad at her.”
“All the shit she went through before she died. We had our problems, but I never would’ve wanted any of that to happen to her.” He presses the heels of his hands against his eyelids. “I can’t get the coroner photos out of my head. The diagrams of her wounds. The description of the rape and the…He f*cking turned her over and raped her that way too. Hours. He spent hours on her. He stuffed her panties in her mouth and taped it shut to keep her quiet so he could f*ck her over and over and no one would hear.
“She f*cking f*cked my best friend, but she didn’t deserve that. She didn’t deserve it.” He rolls over on his side, curling his big body away from me. “She didn’t f*cking deserve it.”
“I know.” I hug him from behind. “It’s okay.”
“I was going to break things off with her. I couldn’t deal with what she did. I tried. I just couldn’t.”
He rolls back toward me. We’re on our sides, face-to-face. His eyes are dry and fevered. He blinks at me slowly, as though he’s just remembering I’m here.
“I’m sorry.” He wraps his arms around me, bringing me in close. “I shouldn’t drink. I’m shit at this kind of stuff sober and, apparently, worse drunk. Tell me to shut up.”
“Do you feel better?”
“No.”
“Lighter?”
“No. Just tired.”
“Then maybe we should go to sleep.”
We get out of bed and then get back in the right way, pulling the covers over us. I’ve never slept in a bed with a man before. The only time I ever shared a bed was with another girl out of necessity, so I don’t know how this is supposed to work. Beau gets comfortable and then brings me in close to his side. He’s big and warm and safe-feeling.
He makes a noise somewhere between a growl and a moan as I shift to find the right spot. “I like it when you rub up against me like that.”
“I’m trying to get comfortable.”
“Roll on your side.” I do, and he spoons me from behind. “Better?”
“Except for that thing poking me.”
He laughs. “That’s what happens when you rub against me. Ignore it. It’ll go away.”
In a matter of moments he’s asleep, but I lie awake, thinking about the things we did and what he told me. There’s so much more to him than I originally thought. I don’t know what happened to him today to make him come here instead of going to Cora or a friend. Did he get what he was looking for, what he needed? I got something I didn’t even know I wanted or needed. A lot more. His arm is tight around me and there isn’t an inch of me that doesn’t feel him. He’s invaded my body and my mind and completely taken over my life.