Total pages in book: 139
Estimated words: 128488 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 642(@200wpm)___ 514(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128488 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 642(@200wpm)___ 514(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
And, really, maybe he had reason to hate her too. Him being a Sinclair was part of the reason she’d kept Callie from him, and he should at least hate her for that, but he didn’t. Was it possible her own father, the man she’d loved and trusted, had somehow arranged for him to be put in a cage and tortured for something he did not do?
It was all sick. So much sickness. So much depravity. And she suddenly realized that, amid all the muck, they might be the only thing that wasn’t. She’d gotten it all wrong. So backward. In some small way, she’d started becoming what their fathers were, whether she’d known the extent of their perversion or not. Noelle and Evan were a rejection of all the sickness and disease that had come before them. Of all the lies, they were the truth. Or they could be. And somehow, deep inside, she knew they must celebrate that if they were going to continue forward. Because it was the only thing that would offer the strength they’d need. If hate was darkness, then their love would be the light.
“I’m sorry,” she breathed. “Oh God, I’m so sorry.”
He took another step toward her. “There’s nothing to be sorry about.”
“There is. There is. I’ve loved you all these years, Evan. I love you. I do.” The truth. And it set her free from a different kind of cage.
He let out a groan that was filled with relief, and when he leaned in to kiss her, she didn’t only let him, she met him halfway. They were like an explosion, like a galaxy melting, like the hottest fire that ever burned. They stumbled toward the couch, their lips never parting, tongues entwined, every atom in her body trembling with the singular need she’d held at bay for so, so long. Maybe it was so good because they’d known the depths of despair together. Maybe each joining would forever be a celebration that . . . they. Were. Not. There. Was that so bad? To rejoice? To be joyful in each other’s presence, a constant exalting of the fact that they both were free of the chains they’d once worn? Free to love. Free to feel pleasure. No bars between them, not even air.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
Silvery morning light seeped around the blinds. Evan felt her stir and then watched her lashes flutter before she opened her eyes just a crack.
“Good morning,” he said, leaning forward and kissing her shoulder.
Her smile was gentle, innocent, maybe even slightly shy. Her eyes moved over his face, and he saw the moment she remembered everything that had happened just prior to the kiss that led them here. He’d held her afterward, and she’d fallen quickly asleep, likely needing the escape of slumber after the shock of what they’d discovered on Dow’s iPad and all the awful implications. She released a breath, lowering her gaze. “I’m so sorry,” she said again. “I’m so, so sorry.”
He reached out and moved her hair away from her face so he could see her better. He sighed. She was sorry for her loyalty, the trait that had in some ways kept bars between them long after they’d run through the desert together toward a partial freedom. She was sorry for hurting him and for the guilt she carried for wanting him, the sworn enemy of the people she’d loved most in the world. For the fact that the person she’d given her loyalty to might be partially responsible for the hell he had been through. He’d worked out the timeline in his head as the sun had risen, casting light over her skin, the woman he loved and always would. She was beautiful, and she was so torn in so many different directions. They’d seen each other’s souls, and maybe once you’d seen a soul, it belonged to you in some profound way that could be felt but not explained. He knew her. He understood every facet. She was imperfect, but so was he. She was fearful and extraordinarily brave. She was scarred inside, but she was his. It had been true then, and it was true now. It would be his greatest truth for the remainder of his days, and he would not deny it again.
“Water?” he asked, kissing her shoulder once more.
She nodded, propping herself on her elbow. “Yes, please.”
He got out of bed, completely unfazed by his nudity. She’d seen all of him, physical and otherwise. He grabbed two water bottles from his fridge and then returned to the bedroom, where she’d piled pillows behind herself and pulled the sheet up over her breasts. He felt a buzz in his groin and briefly considered pulling the sheet from her body and burying himself in her softness again, but they had important things to talk about that shouldn’t wait, not if they were going to break the curse of their fathers, and it was imperative that they did, because they had a child now too.