Out of Love(82)

My lips parted as his words fought for space and meaning in my mind. “My dad knew?” I whispered. “My dad knew you were alive?”

“What would you have chosen for me, Liv? Prison for life? Or life without you?”

“Your mom …” I shook my head.

“She thinks I’m dead. I have a grave and headstone next to my dad’s and uncle’s. It was the only way. She could visit my grave or visit me in prison. So I guess the question is … how many people have you told? Does your dad know you’ve seen me? Friends? Your boyfriend?”

My gaze shot to his. “How did you know I have a boyfriend?”

He stared at the toe of his black boot as he dug it into the grass. “It was part of the deal. I get to know what’s happening in your life. I get video and pictures of you.”

“W-what?” I felt violated and betrayed. “Someone spies on me so you can what? Fantasize about the life you’ll never have? Do you look at these pictures and videos before or after you fuck your wife?”

He winced. “It’s not like that.”

“Then what’s it like? At what point did you decide to fall in love with someone else? Was it when I found Gavin two years after you died? Did someone show you pictures of him kissing me outside of the theater? Was it video of me leaving his place the next morning? Did you happen to see my face? The tears running down my cheeks because it was the worst night of my life? A painful one-night stand. It was the moment I let myself truly accept you were gone. I hated his hands on me because they weren’t yours. I hated his kiss. I hated myself for pretending that I enjoyed it. You made me hate my life … my existence. And the whole time you were watching me? The whole time my dad knew I was grieving a living man? Livy’s happy. Livy moved on. Time to go find someone else?”

“That’s not how it happened.”

“I …” Swiping my tears, I shook my head. “I don’t want to know how it happened. I don’t want photos or video of your life with her. It sucks … it hurts to feel so much hatred toward any human being, especially one I’ve never met. But I hate her. I hate her because she took my life. She took you. And you were supposed to be mine!”

“Liv …” Redness filled his eyes, such a rare side of the monster I loved.

“I hate you too …” I turned and started jogging home with Jericho at my side. When we reached the apartment, I peeled off my clothes and stood in the shower with nothing but ice-cold water washing over my body until everything began to feel numb, until the tears subsided, until reality blurred.

Shutting off the water, I remained idle in the shower, shivering, my breaths jumping in my chest like little staccatos as my teeth chattered. Jericho sat in the doorway and whined. Grabbing my towel, I slowly dried my goose bump covered body and slipped my arms into my satin robe.

I couldn’t remember a time when I’d ever felt that alone.

No Slade.

My dad betrayed me.

Jessica wouldn’t understand because she was the victim of his dad’s brutality.

I had no one.

Grabbing a blanket, I curled up on the sofa. Jericho cried a bit more in concern for me before he jumped onto the sofa and lay at my feet.

Black ops.

People high up who could fake Slade’s death and give him a new identity to keep him out of prison.

Someone spying on me for five years.

My dad’s connection to all of it.

It was all too much.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

I eased to sitting, tightly wrapping the blanket around my shoulders. My bare feet shuffled to the door. Peeking out the peep hole, I frowned, wondering how he got up to my floor without an access card. A stupid question. He averted jail. Gaining access to my apartment had to be an afterthought.

I pressed my head to the door for a few seconds. The answer was no. No. I couldn’t do it anymore. No more talk. No more explanations. There was nothing he could say to make things right. As I turned to head back to the sofa, the door opened.

I closed my eyes with my back to him. He had a fucking key to my apartment.

“If you don’t leave, I’ll call the cops. Call it payback … Karma. Now go.” I drew in a shaky breath and stared out the window.

The door clicked shut, but I felt him behind me.

Close.

Too close.

“I’ve always been yours.”

My chest tightened. Why did he have to do that to me? It was cruel.

“No,” I whispered.

“Yes.”

I shook my head.

“Yes.”

“No …” I said with emotion building in my tone as my fists tightened around the blanket.

“Yes, Livy. I’m—”

I shrugged off the blanket and planted my fist in his face. His head whipped to the side and blood bloomed along the corner of his mouth. Sliding his tongue out to lick it, he faced me again. My hand no longer hurt. I wasn’t the weak girl trying to fit the shoes of a fighter anymore. I was a warrior, broken by him and rebuilt by Jessica and my dad.

He eyed Jericho briefly, giving him the look that said, stay, before his gaze returned to me. “I’m still yours.”

Whack!

My fist landed on his jaw. Again, his head whipped to the side. As he turned to face me a second time, he moved his jaw back and forth.