Put Me Back Together(81)

“You didn’t let him take the fall. He’s the one who committed the crime. He got what he deserved,” Lucas said.

“I was a coward,” I whispered between my fingers.

“Oh, Hero,” Lucas said, getting to his feet and moving toward me.

“Don’t call me that,” I snapped, my face contorted with fury at the sound of the word. “Don’t ever call me that again.”

Turning away, my arms wrapped around my stomach, I felt the warmth of Lucas’s body behind me before he put his arms around me. I wanted to struggle away, but I was just too tired. Tired of trying to make him see the truth. Tired of thinking about that day. Tired of trying to push him away.

In that moment, all I wanted to do was sink into his warmth and forget.

“You’ll always be my hero, Katie,” Lucas said as he fitted my body against his like a puzzle piece clicking into place, his lips against my hair. “You’re the girl who saved me from the darkness of grief, and from a panic attack, and from a lifetime of meaningless hookups. You made me feel something amazing when I thought I’d never feel anything good again. You might not have been able to save Tommy, but you saved me. You made me love you.”

I felt him turning me around to face him and let him do it. Within the cocoon of his arms, I pressed my hands to his chest as he pressed his forehead against mine.

“I love you, Katie,” he repeated.

I looked up at him, shaking my head. “But how?” I asked, my lips trembling.

“Like this,” he said, pressing his lips gently to mine.

I wanted to melt into his kiss, but my reeling mind wouldn’t let me. I knew this couldn’t be real. When tomorrow came, when he’d had a chance to think about it, he would change his mind. He would see that I wasn’t worthy of love, not after what I’d done. He would see that being with me would change him into a monster, just like Brandon. He would see the truth.

“Stop doubting me, Katie,” Lucas said, cupping my cheeks. “I know what I’m saying.”

I closed my eyes, an entire lifetime of wanting drawing me toward him. He lifted me off my feet, settling my legs around his waist, wrapping me around him. “But what if—” I said, but he pressed a kiss to my lips again to silence me.

He sat down on the bed without letting go of me. “Nothing you’ve done or will do could ever make me stop loving you,” he said. “Nothing you say about yourself will ever convince me that you aren’t the incredible girl I’ve known for the past two months. I’m not going to change my mind about this. You’re stuck with me, so you’d better get used to it.”

I rested my cheek against his chest, so overwhelmed with emotion, love for Lucas and hatred for myself swirling inside me, mixed with fear and hope, despair and gladness, sorrow and joy. Could a single person really feel so many things at once? I guessed so, because I was.

Lucas ran his hands up and down my back. He said, “Promise me you’ll try to believe me.”

“I need you to promise me something first,” I said, drawing away so I could look him in the face.

“Anything,” he said.

“When you change your mind, I need you to tell me right away,” I said.

He brushed a piece of hair behind my ear. “I’m not going to change my mind,” he said.

“Then it’s an easy promise to make,” I answered. I really needed this. I didn’t want to be the fool who went on thinking he loved me when he didn’t. And I knew the day would come when he didn’t, and soon.

“Fine,” Lucas said. “If you’ll promise to let me love you, I’ll promise to let you know when that love ends.”

I nodded numbly.

“Even though it never will,” Lucas finished, kissing my cheek. “Because I plan on loving you for the rest of my life, Katie Archer.”

You don’t know what you’re saying, I thought. You don’t know who I really am.

But as his lips met mine again and I surrendered to his embrace, I heard a new voice inside my head, a jubilant voice that had something very different to say.

You know me. You know me. You know me. You know me. You know me, the voice said, and for the moment, I let myself believe it.

Locked in Lucas’s arms, my chin on his shoulder, my legs and arms around him just as his arms were around me, I told him the rest of my story. As I spoke, I felt little pieces of the pain I’d been wearing like a cloak falling away. I wondered if when I was done telling I’d be able to take the cloak off, or maybe it would have disappeared all on its own. I hoped so.

The story that started after that day in the woods was even longer than what came before. I told Lucas about waking up covered in my own blood from my head wound and then stumbling over something in the dark, the horror of touching the pulpy flesh and realizing it was what was left of Tommy. Then there were my screams ping-ponging around inside my head and the wild run through the woods and being found by the lady walking her dog—the look on her face when she saw me covered in blood—the discovery of Tommy’s body and the lies I told the police, and my parents, and Emily—oh God, Emily. I had a concussion and a broken arm and had to stay in the hospital overnight as the horror of Tommy Wesley’s death played out on the TV attached to the wall. My statement is what led to Brandon’s arrest, the first arrest of a twelve-year-old boy for murder the province had ever seen.