My heart thrashes in my chest, my brain crammed with questions.
“You were arrested for drug possession?” I decide to start there.
He raises a shoulder. “I only had a little bit on me, but it was enough to get arrested.”
“So you do them? Drugs, I mean.” I’m uncertain how I feel about that, that Foster was right about that part of Kingsley.
He gives a hesitant nod. “Yeah. Well, up until recently.”
“How long have you done them?”
He fiddles with a hole in the knee of his jeans. “Since I was thirteen.”
“Thirteen?” My eyes widen. “That’s… that’s so young.”
He heaves a weighted sigh. “I know. I’m fucked up.”
“No, you’re not.” I give his pinkie a squeeze, trying to reassure him. “Everyone screws up sometimes and you’re not doing them now, so…” Unsure what else to say, I offer him a smile.
But he continues to look miserable. “Sometimes I think about doing them again. Things are easier to deal with when I’m high.”
My heart aches at his words. “What sort of things?”
He shrugs. “My home life. This fucked up relationship I have with my brother.” He gives a short pause. “You.”
“Me?”
He nods. “I like you, Har. I always have. And as pathetic as this is going to make me sound, you were basically my only friend up until you weren’t. And I know we were never close, but it really sucked when you decided to just stop being friends with me without even telling me why.”
I swallow hard as his words pierce my flesh.
I’m a terrible person.
I don’t deserve him.
And he deserves the truth.
Even though it’s difficult through the abundance of guilt biting inside me, I force myself to look him in the eye. “Do you remember that day on the docks when I fell into the lake? I think we were about twelve years old or so.”
He nods confusedly. “Yeah, I remember. When I saw you fall in, I swear my heart stopped beating. And I tried to save you, but Foster wanted to and he started fighting with me about it and… things got so out of hand.”
Shock courses through me. “That’s what happened?”
“Yeah, and I felt so guilty about it. Here you were basically drowning while we stood by and punched the shit out of each other. It was actually the same day I realized how unhealthy our relationship had become, and I decided I was going to distance myself from him.”
I can’t believe it. All these years, I’d been so wrong.
I’m a terrible person. And while I’ve wanted to keep stuff from Kingsley to avoid causing friction between him and Foster, I think he needs to know the truth.
“That day,” I say, feeling more ashamed than I have in a long time. “After Foster pulled me out of the water, he said that you started the fight with him and that it seemed like you did it because you were trying to stop him from saving me. He also said that you were obsessed with me in a scary way and that maybe I should be worried about it.” I take a deep breath, knowing the next words are going to be hard to say because of the overwhelming guilt I’m feeling. “And I kind of believed him. Not completely, but enough that I backed away from our friendship.” I clutch onto his pinkie. “I’m so, so sorry about that. I’ll never be able to forgive myself. And I understand if you can’t forgive me, but I’m hoping you can because I’d really like us to be friends.” What I’d really like is for us to fuse our lips together again, but I’m not sure if I’m ready to say that aloud. And I highly doubt he’s ready to hear it either.
He rubs his lips together, his gaze burrowing into mine. “I’m not sure if that’s a good idea.”
That remark stings, but I probably deserve it.
“It’s not that I don’t want to be your friend,” he adds. “It’s just that, like I said last night, there’s a lot of shit in my life right now that I’d rather not bring you into.”
“Like informant stuff?”
He nods, wisps of his hair falling into his blue eyes. “That and some other stuff I haven’t told you. And after you hear it, I’m not even sure you’ll want to be friends with me.”
I trace my pinkie along his and he visibly shudders. It makes me want to throw my arms around him and hug him, take away whatever is causing him so much pain and carry it for him like he carried me out of that water. “I really don’t think that’s true.”
“You don’t even know what it is.”
“So try me.” Maybe it’s a risky move, but I decide to add, “Trust me, like I trusted you that night to swim me out of that lake.”
He sucks in an inhale and exhales shakily. “Remember that party you went to with Star, and Porter and I gave you guys a ride there?” he asks. When I nod, his throat muscles bob as he swallows hard. “Do you remember when we were playing truth or dare and Star dared you to kiss a stranger in the closet? Someone that you couldn’t see and wouldn’t know who it is? Well… the guy you kissed… It was me.”
So that’s what he’s worried about telling me? That he kissed me?
My lips part to tell him it’s okay, that I know and don’t care, but he speaks first.
“And I asked her to do it.” He tips his head down, his attention fastened on our intertwined pinkies. “And she did it because she knew I liked you. She knew that I thought you were—that you are gorgeous and smart and funny.” He drags his free hand through his hair. “Fuck, I probably do sound like a stalker, don’t I? I mean, you tell me you stopped being friends with me because you thought I was too obsessed with you, and then I tell you all of this while we’re in my room that has a photo of you on the wall. And while we’re being totally honest with each other, I should also probably tell you that I have a few more photos of you in my photography portfolios.”
“I know. I saw them.” When he glances up at me with a crease between his brows, I explain, “The other day when I was in your room, when I picked up that book and you got all twitchy, I snuck a peek inside it after you left the room and saw some of the photos of me.” I sink my teeth into my bottom lip. “I’m sorry for snooping.”
“You’re fine. I’m sorry for taking photos of you without your permission and coming off as a stalker.”
“I don’t think you’re a stalker. And honestly, while I thought it was a bit weird that you have photos of me, I was never afraid of you because of it. I just wondered—still sort of do—why you took pictures of me.”
He gives a half shrug. “I’m into photography and you take beautiful photos. I probably should’ve told you I was taking the photos, though. But I figured you’d tell me no and I… I don’t know…” He sighs as he turns to me, bringing his knee onto the bed. “When I look through the lens, if I see a beautiful moment, I want to capture it as soon as possible because moments tend to fade away and change pretty damn quickly.”
I understand his words completely. “Yeah, they really do.”
“They really do,” he agrees, a brief far away look flashing in his eyes, but it quickly fades away. “But anyway, I’m sorry for taking the photos of you without your permission. And for kissing you that night in the closet.”
“You don’t need to be sorry for either of that. The photos are really pretty. And as for the kiss… Well, I already figured out it was you that kissed me in the closet. It’s how I figured out Foster wasn’t the one who gave me mouth-to-mouth—because the feel of the lips didn’t match up to his, but the person that kissed me at the party. I still wasn’t sure who kissed me until last night at the party when Star let it slip that you were the one who did. And then my mind slowly started filling in the gaps of what happened the night of the accident.” I sigh heavily. “Not that I can remember everything.”
In fact, there’s still so much I can’t remember. Like how the truck when over the cliff to begin with and how Kingsley got into that truck so quickly. And how the moonlight somehow shined through the roof of the truck. I also saw light later on.
; “It was my first kiss, you know.” Why I choose to say those words then, I have no idea. “I mean, the kiss that happened between you and me in the closet.”
His gaze never wavers from mine. “I know. Star told me before I kissed you. I think it’s also part of the reason she chose me to kiss you, because there were a lot of other guys that wanted to. But she knew I’d be careful with you.”
Good god, he needs to stop talking to me this way before I do something stupid and try to kiss him.
“I liked the kiss.” Oh my hell, Harlynn, know when to stop talking.
He swallows audibly. “Yeah?”
I give an unsteady nod. “Yeah.”
His gaze drops to my lips then he leans in toward me. I know there’s so many more answers I need, but all I can think about is having his lips against mine and feel that calmness and excitement he instills in me. Feel the safeness pour through me.
Safe.
Safe.
Safe.
Right as his lips reach mine, he pauses with his eyes shut. “I… Are you sure you want me to do this? Because I can—”
I silence him with a brush of my lips and he lets out the most strangled groan I’ve ever heard, as if he hasn’t been touched in years and is both terrified and full of desire.
His hand finds my cheek and like always, his fingers tremble. “I can’t believe this is happening… I can’t…” He kisses me again, so deeply I swear I can feel it all the way into my soul.
Feel his soul in mine.
Feel his pain.
His need.
His desire.
How much he wants me.
How much he wants to protect me.
How despite how much he wants this, he’s afraid.
What the hell is this? Why does it seem like I can almost feel what he’s feeling—
A loud bang fills the room and we jerk back, our eyes snapping open.
Two officers barrel into the room and yank Kingsley from the bed, pulling him to his feet. At first I think this is part of the informant thing, but then one of the officers slaps a pair of handcuffs onto Kingsley’s wrists.
“Kingsley Avertonson,” he says. “You’re under arrest for attempted murder.”
Kingsley’s eyes widen as he stumbles forward with his hands cuffed behind his back. “What the hell? I didn’t attempt to murder anyone.”
But all the officers do is shove Kingsley out of the room and down the hallway toward the stairs.
I rush after them, my heart hammering in my chest.
No, this can’t be right.
I know it can’t be.
Can feel it in my bones.
Can feel it in my soul.
In his.
“Stop!” I shout as I rush down the stairway after them. “He didn’t do anything!”
No one listens to me, though, and they force Kingsley out the front door.
Just outside, my family and Kingsley’s are standing in the driveway, watching the scene in horror. Well, except for Foster. He’s standing in the back of his truck, looking at me, his eyes scorching with anger. But I don’t give a shit. Let him be pissed off at me. The feeling’s fucking mutual.
“Stop!” I run across the grass and toward the curb as the officers put Kingsley into the backseat of the patrol vehicle.
When I get close, though, one of the officers sticks his arm out in front of me.
“Back up, miss,” he says as he steers me away from the vehicle.
Away from Kingsley.
Away from my protector.
Safe.
Safe.
Safe.
I can feel the safeness slipping away from me, like my life that night.
I glare at the officer. “You’re arresting the wrong guy.”
He ignores me, glancing at Janie as she approaches him with her arms folded and her lips set in a thin line.
“You can tell my son not to waste his time calling us,” she tells the officer. “We’re done bailing him out of messes.”
“You have to,” I say to her, a rage I can’t even begin to comprehend boiling underneath my flesh. “You’re his mother.”
Her eyes narrow as they skate to me. “Are you defending him? Seriously? You do realize he’s being arrested for the attempted murder on you.”
“I…” Words… I can’t… “What?”
She steps toward me, her expression softening as she places a hand on my shoulder. “The accident… A witness came forward and said that Kingsley was the one who crashed into Foster’s truck that night. That he…” Her eyes fill with tears. “I can’t…” She spins around into her husband’s arms.
He smoothes his hand up and down her back, soothing her. “It’s okay, hun. We did everything we could with him, but sometimes kids just don’t turn out right.”
That rage waves over me, all the calmness I felt with Kingsley gone.
Gone.
Gone.
Gone.
“Come back to me,” he whispers as he breathes air into my lungs.
“Go back,” someone whispers from the darkness—from death. “Go back to him. Connect with him.”
I jerk from the memory, my rage exploding. “Kingsley isn’t wrong!” I shout. “And he didn’t do this!”
Everyone’s eyes widen. Even the officer seems shocked.
“Harlynn,” my mother says in shock and my dad’s face mirrors her’s. “What’s gotten into you?”
“That this is complete bullshit,” I snap. “I know Kingsley didn’t do this. He…” Crap, I promised him I wouldn’t say anything. But I can’t just let him be arrested. Does he want my help? What the hell am I supposed to do? “And who the heck is this witness that supposedly saw Kingsley’s car hit Foster’s truck?”
“We don’t—” My mom starts to say, but Foster cuts her off.
“It was Evalynn.” He jumps out of the back of his truck and hikes across the grass toward me with a smile on his face. But the smile is so faint no one else can probably see it. I can see it, though, like a ghost upon his face. “Apparently her little stalking me habit paid off because she was there on the cliff that night and saw Kingsley crash his car into mine.”
“I’d do anything for him,” Evalynn said to me last night.
“You’re such a fucking liar,” I bite out, digging my nails into my palm so deeply blood trickles from my flesh.
Surprise flickers in his eyes, his smile erasing.
“Harlynn,” my mom gasps again.
But I ignore her as the police vehicle pulls away, taking Kingsley with it.
I wish I could see him, wish I could tell him everything will be okay. But I don’t know that for sure and I don’t want to be a liar.
A liar like Foster.
I inch toward Foster and lower my tone, preparing to say everything to him.
“Careful, Harlynn.” Beth materializes behind him, looking even more boney and broken. “Anything you say to a liar will be twisted into more lies and used against you.”
“What does that even mean?” I mutter through clenched teeth.
Foster’s brows crease. “Are you okay, Har? Who are you talking to?” He reaches to put his hand on my forehead. “And why do you look so pale? Are you sick?”
“I look pissed,” I snap, jerking away from him.
Beth’s bare feet don’t touch the ground as she floats up beside me. “It means you need to be careful what you say around him because he’ll use it against you. All evil will.”
“But I can’t let Kingsley…” I trail off as I notice everyone is looking at me like I’ve lost my mind.
This is exactly what I was worried about and why I haven’t told anyone what I’ve been seeing.
Shaking my head, I storm off, ignoring everyone’s shouts of protests.
“Kingsley will be fine,” Beth assures me, shuffling after me. “He has you and you know part of the truth. Plus, he has the dead too.”
I slam to a halt and slowly turn toward him. “What do you mean he has the d
ead too?”
She shrugs. “I mean he’s like you.”
“You mean he can see the dead? I don’t… How?”
“He can see them the same way you can.”
Slowly and very painfully I realize what she’s saying.
“Kingsley died and came back to life?” I say, blood roaring in my eardrums.
She nods. “A few years ago.”
“How?” I manage to choke out. “And how did I never hear about it?”
“Because his parents don’t want anyone knowing what happened.”
I’m almost afraid to ask, but the need to know—to understand more about Kingsley is greater. “What happened?”
She remains quiet for so long I question if she’ll tell me.
But then she whispers in a hollow tone, “He tried to inflict death upon himself.”
An agonizing pain stabs through my chest.
Kingsley tried to take his own life.
God, how much pain was he in?
Is he still in that much pain?
I picture the sorrow in his eyes and my stomach lurches. As vomit burns the back of my throat, I sprint down the sidewalk as fast as I can until I reach the front lawn of my house. Then I drop to my knees and empty out the contents of my stomach into the bushes as pain crushes at my chest. But I’m not positive the pain belongs to me.
I can feel him. Kingsley. Inside me, under my flesh, in my veins, in my heart. Everywhere.
Breathing Lies: (The Breathing Undead Series, Book 1) Page 19
