Julia
I stared, eyes wide, unable to move, to breathe, to so much as think as Lachlan’s confession echoed around me.
I shouldn’t have come out here. Should have stayed inside. But when I heard raised voices, I wanted to make sure everything was okay.
But nothing could have prepared me for the conversation I’d stumbled upon.
Lachlan shot Piper.
It wasn’t her attacker.
It was Lachlan.
The anguish in his voice as he insisted he didn’t deserve to be happy because of his actions that night nearly broke my heart. It was one thing to lose someone you loved. But to live with the guilt you had something to do with it, regardless that you did it in the hopes of protecting her, saving her… I couldn’t imagine how that must have messed with his mind.
How it still messed with his mind.
The blame I’d carried since I learned the truth about Nick still affected me. The “what ifs” still tortured me.
What if I hadn’t allowed my fear to control me?
What if I hadn’t allowed Nick to manipulate me?
What if I’d raised my suspicions earlier?
How many women would still be alive right now?
I couldn’t imagine what Lachlan still endured for his role in Piper’s death, knowing the part he played in it.
At the sound of approaching footsteps, my heart ricocheted into my throat. I quickly snapped back to the present, about to hurry into the house, but before I could, Lachlan appeared around the corner, coming to an abrupt stop when he saw me standing there.
He studied me, lips parting as he remained momentarily dumbstruck, unsure of what to say. I had no idea what to say, either.
“You heard.” He finally cut through the silence, his words more of a statement than a question.
I simply nodded in response.
“Julia, I…” He shook his head. “I don’t know what—”
Before he could finish, I strode to him, pressing my mouth to his, trying to show him that his past didn’t matter. That it wasn’t his fault.
That, despite the guilt burdening him, he still deserved happiness.
Even if it wasn’t with me.
He stiffened, obviously confused as to why I’d want to be with him after overhearing how much of a monster he was. At least in his mind. But I didn’t see him that way. I saw his darkness and embraced it.
Because it mirrored my own.
“Kiss me,” I begged.
He yanked my body against his and pressed his mouth harder against mine, coaxing my lips open. His hand went to my head, fingers burrowing into my hair, locking me in place.
Desperation and fury dripped from him as he kissed me with hunger. With fervor. With grief. The grief I felt nearly tore me apart to the point I couldn’t help but fall into him. To succumb to him.
To surrender to him.
“I’m yours,” I murmured, sensing he needed to feel some sort of power or control.