evidence disappeared under mysterious circumstances. It was labeled an
accident, and I ‘lost control’ of the vehicle.”
“Are they still…after you?”
His gaze met mine and he stared into my eyes, his hands bringing mine to his lips.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because of what I hold. The information I have on them. When I started poring over
all the evidence for the case, it became a rabbit hole and I was able to link it to
more and more cases.” He shook his head. “I wish I didn’t have it anymore so they
would leave me alone.”
“Why don’t you get rid of it?”
“Because it wouldn’t make a difference, and because they died for it.”
“Are you sure they’re still after you?”
He let out a huff. “It’s been a while; I think they like seeing me miserable. In a
way they think it’s better than being dead because I’ve suffered a worse fate than
his daughter. But, yes, they still keep tabs.”
My fingers shuffled through the items in the box: pictures of them in college, their
wedding day, their home. It was all he had left of her—a wooden box filled with paper
and faded memories.
I stared at one of the photos, and something Jack had said to me long ago came back.
You remind me of my daughter.
“I’m not her, you know.” His brows scrunch together in confusion at my words. “Jack
said…I reminded him of her.”
He thought about that for a moment, his head nodding a bit. “I’ll admit there are
a few similarities I noticed in you in the beginning, and it was one of the many things
that drew me to you. But then I saw you, really saw you, and it was then it hit me you weren’t her and the similarities were just
that. No different than how you are.”
“What do you mean by that?” I asked, the hackles on my neck standing up.
“I’ve been watching you for months. You shy away from bald men,” he said, ticking
off more subtleties I’d never noticed myself. “You cringe at men wearing combat boots.
Why?”
“Adam always wore them, especially when he kicked me. My dad went bald at an early
age.” My voice was mechanical as I answered, and my chest tightened, the walls reinforcing
themselves, so I redirected. “It’s the same with you, though. If I cringe from them,
you are drawn to me. These photos show our similarities. You can’t refute it.”
His lips formed a thin line. “When I first saw you at the office, the physical similarities,
your hair color and size, even some of your mannerisms were hard to distinguish. Over
time I saw the pain behind your eyes, the emptiness.” He paused and looked to me,
his fingers ghosting over my cheek. “I saw the mask you wore.”
He took a deep breath before continuing. “I resigned myself to a solitary existence.
Convinced myself I would never love again. And then you came crashing into my life.
You didn’t fawn over me like the others, and you saw through my façade into the man
hiding inside: destroyed and angry.”
“You slipped around me.”
“I did,” he agreed. “You do that to me. I tried to ignore you for weeks. I saw it
in you, the same pain and loneliness in myself. At first I thought it was because
you reminded me of Grace in some ways, but then, after the first few times I was with
you, I realized that, while it was something that drew me to you in the beginning,
it no longer applied. I wanted you, craved you . I struggled every day with that knowledge. You saw the evidence. I pushed you away,
along with the pull and feelings you were stirring within me. But when I took you,
I gave everything I could and it was raw and primal. I craved you to the point of
insanity.”
I pursed my lips, the war raging inside between wanting to believe him and wanting
to protect myself. “Are you sure? Are you sure that’s what you’re feeling? Are you
certain you aren’t using me as a replacement for her? If she was alive, you would
still be with her, not
accident, and I ‘lost control’ of the vehicle.”
“Are they still…after you?”
His gaze met mine and he stared into my eyes, his hands bringing mine to his lips.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because of what I hold. The information I have on them. When I started poring over
all the evidence for the case, it became a rabbit hole and I was able to link it to
more and more cases.” He shook his head. “I wish I didn’t have it anymore so they
would leave me alone.”
“Why don’t you get rid of it?”
“Because it wouldn’t make a difference, and because they died for it.”
“Are you sure they’re still after you?”
He let out a huff. “It’s been a while; I think they like seeing me miserable. In a
way they think it’s better than being dead because I’ve suffered a worse fate than
his daughter. But, yes, they still keep tabs.”
My fingers shuffled through the items in the box: pictures of them in college, their
wedding day, their home. It was all he had left of her—a wooden box filled with paper
and faded memories.
I stared at one of the photos, and something Jack had said to me long ago came back.
You remind me of my daughter.
“I’m not her, you know.” His brows scrunch together in confusion at my words. “Jack
said…I reminded him of her.”
He thought about that for a moment, his head nodding a bit. “I’ll admit there are
a few similarities I noticed in you in the beginning, and it was one of the many things
that drew me to you. But then I saw you, really saw you, and it was then it hit me you weren’t her and the similarities were just
that. No different than how you are.”
“What do you mean by that?” I asked, the hackles on my neck standing up.
“I’ve been watching you for months. You shy away from bald men,” he said, ticking
off more subtleties I’d never noticed myself. “You cringe at men wearing combat boots.
Why?”
“Adam always wore them, especially when he kicked me. My dad went bald at an early
age.” My voice was mechanical as I answered, and my chest tightened, the walls reinforcing
themselves, so I redirected. “It’s the same with you, though. If I cringe from them,
you are drawn to me. These photos show our similarities. You can’t refute it.”
His lips formed a thin line. “When I first saw you at the office, the physical similarities,
your hair color and size, even some of your mannerisms were hard to distinguish. Over
time I saw the pain behind your eyes, the emptiness.” He paused and looked to me,
his fingers ghosting over my cheek. “I saw the mask you wore.”
He took a deep breath before continuing. “I resigned myself to a solitary existence.
Convinced myself I would never love again. And then you came crashing into my life.
You didn’t fawn over me like the others, and you saw through my façade into the man
hiding inside: destroyed and angry.”
“You slipped around me.”
“I did,” he agreed. “You do that to me. I tried to ignore you for weeks. I saw it
in you, the same pain and loneliness in myself. At first I thought it was because
you reminded me of Grace in some ways, but then, after the first few times I was with
you, I realized that, while it was something that drew me to you in the beginning,
it no longer applied. I wanted you, craved you . I struggled every day with that knowledge. You saw the evidence. I pushed you away,
along with the pull and feelings you were stirring within me. But when I took you,
I gave everything I could and it was raw and primal. I craved you to the point of
insanity.”
I pursed my lips, the war raging inside between wanting to believe him and wanting
to protect myself. “Are you sure? Are you sure that’s what you’re feeling? Are you
certain you aren’t using me as a replacement for her? If she was alive, you would
still be with her, not
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