One of Those Faces (78)

The inevitability of what was coming started to dawn on me. The radius around me was closing in. You’re next. Or Jenny. Shit. What if Jenny was already gone? Everything had become so chaotic that she’d become a more and more distant thought in the back of my mind.

Wilder’s hand reached for mine. “You’re going to be fine.”

I glared at him. “How do you know that? You’ve seen the resemblance yourself, and now you’re telling me the murderer is probably still out there?”

He retracted his hand. “Nothing is definitive at this point.”

I pushed away from the table and stood. “I can’t believe this! What have you been doing all this time? Sarah was found back in July!”

“I’ve been doing my job,” he yelled, shaking his head and taking a step toward me. “And I don’t have to justify any of this to you. I told you all this as a courtesy!”

I stepped backward toward the door, but my stomach sank. I was so alone now. I had been alone before, but having and then losing Iann cut deeper. You never even really had him.

Wilder was fuming, his hand gripping the edge of the table. He was standing so close.

I wanted to be closer. I wanted to punch him, to scream in his face. Instead, I leaned forward and kissed him.

He jerked away, and I stepped back, a knot twisting in my stomach. Then, without a word, he pushed me against the wall. He dug his fingers into my sides and enveloped my lips with his.

Cigarettes and mint gum.

My eyes watered as he wound his fingers around my hair and tugged my head back. I didn’t ask him to stop.

I had made so many mistakes. The worst one was surviving my father, and then surviving Bug. Then believing Iann really wanted to be with me. I must’ve known on some level the whole time. Why else would I have hidden so many things from him?

I had been afraid of being exposed for what I was. A hollow duplicate.

But Iann had known all along.

Wilder pushed me to his dark room and shoved me onto the unmade bed. My heart pounded against my chest as I pulled him into me, his hands fumbling over the buttons of my jeans. I unbuttoned his shirt, revealing beads of sweat on his fevered skin.

This is wrong.

His hands hiked up my top, but I tugged the edges down around my stomach. He didn’t stop, his fingers grazing over my ribs and breasts until I was covered in goose bumps.

I grabbed his hand as he reached for the button of my jeans. Something resembling frustration flashed across his face, and he lightly pressed against my neck with his fingers as he leaned in to kiss me again. It was hard to breathe, the force of his hand plunging me deeper into the covers.

I began to panic, pushing my fists against his chest, but he continued, tugging my hair harder this time. “Stop,” I managed between tight breaths.

He pulled away, staring down at me.

“I can’t do this. We shouldn’t,” I said, my voice louder this time.

His gaze was piercing even in the dark. “Okay.” He lingered a moment before sinking on the bed beside me.

I gratefully gulped the air as the pressure released from my throat.

Panting, Wilder slid his arm under my neck and began absently playing with my hair. The gentle action was in sharp contrast to only moments before. My scalp still tingled from his grip. I’d sobered up from the pain. “You’re not like them,” he said.

“What?”

He pulled my chin toward him and studied my face. “You keep saying those girls are just like you, but they’re not.” His expression had changed, his gaze too intense to meet. I looked away, but he drew me closer to him. “They never had to struggle through anything like you did.”

“How would you know that?” I hated that he felt he knew anything about me.

He lowered his hands to my waist. “I’ve learned a lot about them through the investigation,” he said, his breath warm in my ear. “You’re one of a kind, Harper.”

I sat up on the bed, glancing at the door. “I should go,” I said, my stomach flipping.

The bed rustled as he sat up beside me, his hand heavy on my shoulder. “What?”

I swung my feet over the side of the bed. “I’m sorry. I made a mistake coming here.”

“I’m sorry you feel that way.” His words were deliberate. I could hear the unfilled blanks trailing behind that sentence.

I couldn’t bear to look through the darkness to see his face.

“Let me give you a ride,” he said, getting to his feet as well.

The thought of the awkward car ride back to that damn empty apartment made me woozy. “No,” I said quickly. Too quickly. “I’m going back alone.”

He turned the light on. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

No, I wasn’t. I couldn’t feel safe here, though. “I’ll take a taxi. I’m not walking that whole way, so don’t worry about it.” I forced a slight smile. “Let’s go back to the status quo. I don’t know what got into me tonight.” You’re starving for pain.

He inspected my face with slightly narrowed eyes, the dark circles underneath more pronounced. After a moment, he shrugged. “Whatever you want.”

I wanted Iann. I wanted to go back a few hours and never see that photo.

“I’ll see you around,” I said and opened the door to the living room. I looked back as I let myself out through the front door and saw him sitting on the bed, his back to me.