Echo(29)

With a shallow breath, my eyes fall shut, pushing a couple tears down my cheek and I whimper, “I’m so sorry.”

I can’t bear to look at him in my insurmountable guilt for what I’ve done. My head drops to my hands as I will for strength, but it doesn’t come. That’s the thing with Declan, he’s always had a way of making it difficult for me to lock up the truth of my emotions. He’s the one person who was able to strip down my barricade and make me feel—truly feel.

When I finally open my eyes, he hasn’t shifted. His hard face remains, unaffected by my tears.

“Say something,” I whisper. “Please.”

Creases form along his forehead, and his eyes look to ache, when he finally does speak, asking, “Why did you do it?”

I vow to myself to stop all the lies. To give him transparent truth about everything. If that makes me a savage in his eyes, which it undoubtedly will, then fine. Because if he’s going to judge me, I at least want him to do it honestly.

“Revenge,” I finally admit.

“I want the truth,” he demands.

“I married Bennett with intentions of destroying him,” I say, and then pause before adding, “I married him to kill him.”

He releases a heavy puff of air in disbelief. “What the f*ck is wrong with you?”

“I don’t know . . . I don’t know.”

“Why?”

“What I told you was a lie. The story about me growing up in Kansas and my parents’ death. It was all a lie.” The guilt has festered long enough, and I crack. My words bleed from the cobwebs of my soul, and I cry as the wounds shred apart. “I don’t know how to make it right, but I want to. I never thought I would fall in love with you the way I did.” My words spill out through my constricted throat.

“Tell me why,” he snarls. “What did he do to you that you’d want him dead?”

“He murdered me. I wanted payback.”

Declan’s jaw grinds, and I go on, explaining, “I was happy . . . When I was a little girl, I was happy. I lived with my father, and then one day . . . ” I choke on the agony of my words. “ . . . One day he was taken from me. Arrested. I was only five years old when it happened. It was all Bennett’s fault. My dad was sent to prison and I was sent to hell.”

I stop when I can’t speak anymore and simply cry. Choking in broken gasps of air while Declan just sits here—a stone of a man with eyes of disbelief, confusion, anger. It hurts to look at him, but I do it anyway.

“I never saw my father again, and when I was twelve years old, he died in prison. Killed by another inmate.”

“What did Bennett have to do with this?” he interrupts.

“Because . . . it’s a long story,” I exhaust.

“You owe me the truth.”

“He . . . he thought I was being abused by my dad, but it wasn’t the truth. He told his parents, and the authorities were called to investigate, but instead they uncovered that he was trafficking guns and arrested him. I know it sounds bad, but he was a good man and I had a good life with him.” My cries erupt harder, blubbering, “He wasn’t bad, he was perfect and loved me, and Bennett took it all away. In a single moment, he set fire and incinerated everything in my world. That * stole my life!”

Shaking his head, Declan mutters, “Doesn’t make sense. None of this makes sense.”

“It was his fault,” I press, but his response is sharp when he moves on, “I don’t want to argue your f*cked up rationalizations. Tell me . . . what was I?”

“Declan, please . . . ”

“Tell me. Tell me what I was!” his voice booms off the walls, demanding to know.

“In the beginning . . . in the beginning you were the pawn,” I confess.

“More,” he urges.

“Declan, you have to understand that it changed and—”

“More!”

“Okay!” I blurt out and then repeat in a softer, defeated tone, “Okay. Yes, you started as the pawn. I was going to use you to kill Bennett.”

“Why not you?”

“Because I was afraid of getting caught if I got my hands too dirty.”

His teeth grind as he begins to clench and unclench his fists.

“I’m sorry,” I breathe. “But when I got to know you, and we connected so easily, I fell for you. You make me feel something that no one has ever been able to do. No one has ever looked at me the way you do—the way you did. I’ve had a hard life, but—”