But he also liked to bust my balls, which was proven when Sam reached over, dancing his fingers along my nape while they spoke, and Charles smiled. “Aren’t y’all just the cutest thing?” he teased in an exaggerated Southern accent. “Are there any other young studs around here for me?”
I gave him the finger, and Sam said, “Nope. I’m the only one,” then turned to me, “He’s a lot more agreeable than you were. I had to work my ass off to get you.”
Charles barked out a loud laugh. “Why does that not surprise me?”
“Cuz clearly you know him.”
They shared another chuckle at my expense, and honestly, I had to bite back my own smile. “Are the two of you done yet?”
“I don’t know about you, Sam, but I could do this all night.”
“Yeah, but I kinda wanna snuggle with him, so I don’t wanna piss him off too much,” Sam replied, and I knew right then and there that I would never hear the end of this. Charles would remember those words for the rest of our lives.
“That was more sugary than…a cup of sweet tea?” Charles finished, obviously trying to think of some kind of Southern saying but coming up empty.
“No offense, but you suck at this,” Sam told him.
“New York City, born and raised.” Charles held up his hands in defense.
This time, I laughed with them. And as we sat there together, the man who had my back when the world thought I was a murderer, and the man who was leading me out of the prison I’d locked myself in for years, I could almost forget that past had happened at all.
Twenty-two stab wounds.
Crime of passion.
“Why, Bent? Why did you kill me?” Blood oozed out of Daniel’s throat as he spoke.
“I didn’t… I’m sorry. I would never have… I cared about you.” The same red that was all over Daniel dripped from my hands, was all over my clothes and my arms, a knife between my fingers.
“But you didn’t love me. You didn’t want me. I wasn’t enough for you! If you loved me, you wouldn’t have killed me. You—”
“No, that’s not true! Daniel, I…” I reached for him, but he was suddenly farther away. Each time I moved closer to him, the distance kept growing.
“You weren’t in love with me…”
“I…” Nothing would come out, like the words just weren’t there. I cared about Daniel. We spent four years together. We went on vacations and laughed and… “You know I cared about you. I still do.”
“You care about him more. You love him.”
Daniel’s words were a slap to my face, a knife to my heart. He knew about Sam. Guilt filled my throat, choking me the way Daniel had on his own blood.
“We’re not… I didn’t…”
“God, I loved you, from that first night I did. I wanted to be enough for you.”
Pink-tinged tears streamed down my face, fell to our white carpet. “I wanted to be enough for you too.” And that was true. There had been so many nights when I’d wished I could have been what Daniel needed, that I could have given him what he’d needed, but I hadn’t had it in me.
“It wasn’t what you wanted. I wasn’t what you wanted. You told yourself you did, but we both know it wasn’t true. You didn’t want to hurt me.”
“I did hurt you!” I snapped. “Every day!” Because I couldn’t be who he’d needed. Why couldn’t I have been who Daniel deserved? “I fought with you, got angry with you when you asked for more, when you just wanted my time. I was so pissed at you the night you died, and I left you alone, when all you ever wanted was me. You said it yourself—I killed you. All you asked was for me to love you!” And I hadn’t, had I? I’d cared about Daniel. I’d wanted to love him, had thought I’d loved him, but…Christ, I never said it, did I? I always said I cared about him, not that I was in love with him. “I’m sorry,” stumbled from my lips. “I’m so fucking sorry.”
“You love him.”
Even though I knew I was dreaming, when I turned, I saw Sam there, sleeping next to me. How I could be in two places at once, I didn’t know, but I was there with Sam, and here with Daniel, and I loved Sam. I was in love with him.
When my gaze met Daniel’s again, I saw it there—he knew exactly what Sam was to me. He gave me a sad smile, heartbreak fighting it as it tried to rise, followed by the briefest nod.
Daniel tried to speak, opened his mouth, moved it, but nothing came out. He started to cry, to fade, fear burning in his eyes.
“I’m sorry! So fucking sorry,” I told him again, chased him, but couldn’t reach him, couldn’t grab him, and then, just like in real life, he was gone. And this time, this time I knew he was gone for good.