Beautiful Graves(58)

He is right. He is right, and it’s time I own up to all my mistakes. Especially the one I left in California.

Joe’s shoulder brushes mine. He stalks out of the room. And then I hear the words that undo me. They pull at me like a frayed old sweater. Until I’m nothing but a long string of pain.

“I loved you, Ever Lawson. But I want you to know, you’re the worst thing that’s ever fucking happened to me.”





EIGHTEEN


I drive us back to Salem, not allowing Dom to get behind the wheel. Now we’re both leaning on the car, the silence between us so palpable I can taste it on my tongue. Since I don’t trust him with a vehicle right now—or a coffee machine, for that matter—I tell him I’ll take his car to my apartment to pick up Loki, and then I’ll bring it back. Dom doesn’t argue. Like with everything else, he is understanding and cooperative. Perfect. He kisses my neck, pressing me against his sports car, his hands on my waist.

“Did you have a good time at Mom’s birthday?” he murmurs into my neck.

“Of course.” My mind involuntarily drifts to Joe. I think about his words. About that kiss. It still lingers on my lips, an unspoken secret.

I need to tell Dom. I can’t plan a wedding with this man without coming clean about everything.

I need to tell him that this is too soon, too much. That we don’t have to tell people, but the engagement needs to be on hold. Otherwise, we’re just going to hurt more people. And ourselves.

When I try to pull away, Dom hugs me tighter and says, “Put Loki in his carrier, grab a few clothes, and hurry up. I need to be inside you.”

The proof of his desire for me is nestled between my legs, through our clothes. It twitches against my groin, demanding to be taken care of.

“We need to talk first,” I say.

“About what?” He pulls away, scanning me. “You’re not getting cold feet, are you?”

I chuckle, feeling extra dead inside. “We just need to smooth some things over.”

I can tell he is unhappy about this, but he nods. “All right. I’ll wait.”

“I might take a second. I need to get some tampons.”

Actually, I don’t. I don’t have my period. But there is no way I can have sex with Dom, even on the off chance that he’s okay with what happened with Joe.

Dom kisses my forehead. “I’ll buy ’em. You go pack for the night.”

“It’s just on the way,” I protest.

“The Walgreens is right across the street.” He laughs. “And you’re taking my car, remember? So it’s not like I’m at risk of driving into a wall or something.”

I roll my eyes. “Don’t even joke about that.” And then, before I forget, I say, “I love you.”

“Love you too.”

He sends me off with a pat on my ass. In the car, once it’s quiet, I replay tonight’s scene with Joe in my head over and over.

I loved you.

Joe used past tense, while I’m still here in the present, pining for him.

It occurs to me that after I tell Dom about my kiss with his brother today, he’ll almost certainly break off the engagement. What frightens me even more is the feeling that’s tethered to it. Of relief. Not because I don’t love Dom, but because I’m in love with his brother too.

Maybe taking a step back from the entire Graves family would be a good thing. I could tell Nora to move in with Colt, anyway. Living by myself for a while would do me good.

When I walk into my apartment half an hour later, Nora is not there. I can’t remember the last time she’s slept at home. At this point she’s just paying half my rent. I grab a quick shower, push Loki into his carrier, and pack a light bag.

I’ve picked up the sticky note pad by the fridge, about to write Nora a message, when my phone rings in my back pocket. I pull it out and see Joe’s name across the screen. My heart skips a beat. For a second, I contemplate not answering. Or at least, I pretend to contemplate this, because there’s no way I can resist the urge.

I swipe the screen, sighing.

“Look, I know there’s still stuff to talk about—”

He cuts me off. “You need to go to the hospital.”

“What?” I ask.

“Salem’s general hospital. You need to go there. Right. Now. Dom’s in critical condition.”

I drop the sticky notes and the pen on the floor. My legs are shaking. I try to breathe, but the air gets stuck in my throat. “What do you mean? How? Why?”

“Ever. Ever. Ever.” Joe’s voice is husky, like he’s been screaming. The lack of his casual indifference throws me into the depths of hysteria. “It happened about half an hour ago. He crossed the street back from Walgreens. Got hit by a truck.”

“Oh my God!” I yelp. “What happened? Was the driver drunk?”

I need something, or someone, to be mad at. The roaring engine and the rain hitting Joe’s car tell me he is on his way too. I kick into high gear, running around the apartment, putting my shoes on.

“They don’t know,” Joe says, finally. “They don’t know shit, Ever. I only got the call ten minutes ago. A couple witnesses who were there said that he fell right into incoming traffic. On a red light.”