I Know Lucy (A Fugitive #1)(53)

Her expression was melting, tears swarming her eyes and it was breaking me. I couldn’t let her do this to me. I stood up straight, grabbing my pad of paper and shoving it back into my bag. My eyes scanned the timeline and a thought caught up to me, one I’d been playing with over my morning coffee.

“What I can’t figure out is why you’ve stayed.” I zipped my bag. “You should have left a couple of weeks ago. You’ve broken your pattern. Is there a bigger score here?” The question fueled my anger and I spat it out, feeling more in control as I did. “You should have gotten your money and moved on by now. Why? Why— whoever the hell you are—have you stayed? Why’ve you stayed!”

“Because I can’t walk away from you!” She shouted back at me, then closed her eyes and pressed her head against the wall. A lone tear was set free. I watched it run down the right side of her face, soon followed by another on the left. I wanted to step towards her, to wipe them off her soft skin, but I couldn’t move.

Me?

I hadn’t been expecting that.

I let the silence reign, too shocked to fill it. Finally she sniffed and wiped at her own tears. Her voice was broken and small. “I did have a plan. Danville’s a rich town. It was supposed to be a quick in and out, but I couldn’t do it. Meeting you that first day just screwed everything up and I remember thinking, ‘No, you can do this. Just let today slide and start again tomorrow.’ Every night I said that to myself and every day I’d see you. And those mornings at the pool. Man, and you’re just so hot! But worse than that, you’re kind and intelligent and you’ve got these amazing eyes that can see right into the soul. You notice everything. That should be dangerous for me, but I just find it so compelling.” She lightly thumped the wall with her head, making me feel a hundred feet tall. “For the first time in my life, I have friends I actually like and I’ve met a guy I want to kiss. Not because I’m being forced to or because I’m playing any kind of role. Kissing you is like eating chocolate.” She swallowed, her cheeks warming with a blush. “Zach, this is the closest to normal I’ve ever come and I just can’t bring myself to walk away from it. You.” She squeaked the word, pointing at me and shaking her head. “You make it impossible to leave.”

I was in front her before I could stop myself, running my thumbs over her cheeks, brushing at her tears. Our breath mingled together as we locked gazes, both searching for the genuine truth. Tears lined her delicate lashes as she whispered, “I don’t want to run anymore.”

“Then don’t.” I gripped the side of her face, pulling her lips towards mine.

Our mouths crushed together, a hot desperate mess. She clung to my waist, gripping my shirt as if it were the only thing stopping her from falling. I kissed her senseless, pouring out every emotion I’d been wrestling with for the last few days. I never wanted to let her go again. I never wanted to yell at her or accuse her of being anything but who she was in this moment.

There were more secrets, more truths that had yet to be uttered, but right this second she was my girl and that’s all that mattered.





Chapter 25





ZACH


May 2014





We ended up in bed together. Not naked and we didn’t have sex either, but as the kissing intensified I was propelled to lift her into my arms and walk her towards the lone mattress on the floor. We flopped onto it, our lips still playing tango. We couldn’t pull away from each other. It was like we were both scared that if we did, reality would sneak back in and we’d have to face what I’d learned and what she still had to tell me.

But neither of us made the move to take it any further then hot, wet making out.

Finally Dani pulled away, her blue eyes fiery as she took me in. “I need a breath.” She pushed back, but I wouldn’t let her go. Instead I laid back and pulled her against me. She tucked her head under my chin and wrapped her leg over my knee and around my calf. It felt amazing being tangled up against her.

I brushed my lips over her forehead as she ran her hand up my shirt, playing with a loose thread near the collar.

As my heart rate slowly decelerated, I let my eyes travel around the room. I noticed a pile of books in the corner, neatly organized for school. Next to that was a small stack of tatty novels and next to them were three neat piles of clothes — pants, shirts and two sweaters. Her red Converse rested on top of a bag, which I assumed contained her socks and underwear. In spite of the fact it was on the floor, it was very orderly. Across the room was a kitchen counter with a grimy sink and two gas hobs that looked as though they hadn’t been lit this century. She obviously did no cooking here, so what was with the utility knife? I glanced at the door. The blade she’d thrown at my head was still sticking out from the frame.

I couldn’t believe she lived here. It made my heart bleed imagining her wrapped up under the light-weight cover on her own. The place was as warm and friendly as a jail cell.

“Where’s your dad?” I whispered.

Her long fingers stilled and my body automatically tensed. I tried not to let it show, but I’m sure she felt my pecks tighten. She took her time answering. I couldn’t help wondering if she was trying to think of a good story, still playing her Dani role, or if she was summoning the courage to tell me the truth.