Total pages in book: 134
Estimated words: 134746 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 674(@200wpm)___ 539(@250wpm)___ 449(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 134746 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 674(@200wpm)___ 539(@250wpm)___ 449(@300wpm)
I’m snarling so hard I have to catch myself.
That kindness in Elle’s eyes is the only thing that keeps me going.
“Before our court date, she was set for a rite of passage with her faith. There’s this cliff in Sedona, this sacred red rock supposedly surrounded by energy portals. It’s the kind of place New Agey scammers love. Their initiates will jump off that cliff and drop over fifty feet down into a pool. Charisma’s group call it their ‘leap of faith,’ a trial by air to prove their faith. With the deep pool, it’s generally safe, even if there have been a few injuries over the years.”
I wasn’t there. I didn’t see it. All I saw were the grisly photographs of the aftermath.
So why can I visualize the fall so clearly?
Why does it haunt me so fucking bad?
Elle’s breaths are shallow and ragged. Even though we’re surrounded by music, laughter, and the soft clink of glasses and absolute normalcy, we’re both somewhere else.
All I can hear are the shaky breaths that tell me she’s fighting to hold back tears.
“I still don’t know how the hell Charisma ever missed the water,” I whisper. “All I know is what they told me. A freak accident, they said. She tumbled too far. She hit the edge of the pool, and then the rocks below instead. No one could’ve survived. Her death was ruled an accidental suicide, but there are people even now who hint that I somehow drove her to it, just to avoid paying the settlement she demanded as compensation for shit I never did.” I swallow hard, but I can’t shift the heavy knot in my throat. “If I’d just understood her more, listened more, let my defenses down to see her—”
“August.”
The rawness in Elle’s voice forces me to stop and look.
I almost don’t want to, when those tracks of wetness pouring down her cheeks are my fault.
Pain shared is not pain lessened, and now I’ve given this glowing girl my own pain, to let it multiply and spread.
But as I meet her eyes, she shakes her head.
“It wasn’t your fault. Her choices aren’t your responsibility. Maybe you weren’t a great husband, but you can’t save other people, August. All you can do is help them if they want to save themselves. If it wasn’t the cult, I’m sure it would have been something else.” Elle pauses to catch her breath. “She should have realized what she was looking for wasn’t in your marriage and made the decision to end it and move on with her life. Not compensate with something like that and then try to extort you out of resentment that you weren’t the husband she expected.” She bites her lip, pink and glimmering and soft, her eyes glowing, tawny gold. “Whatever mistakes you made, you didn’t kill her. You didn’t make her die. You just fell out of love. You had a bad marriage, like half the US population. That should have ended in regret and divorce. The fact that it didn’t is because of her, August. Not you.”
I can’t help but protest.
I’ve been carrying this cross with me for so long I—fuck, I don’t know who I am without that guilt. Without that nagging warning that women and I are a catastrophic mix.
“If I’d been a better husband—”
“You wouldn’t have been you,” Elle cuts in. She’s holding my hand so tight I’m sure it hurts her. “But whether you were an amazing husband or a terrible one, you didn’t drive her to anything. She drove herself. I think you want to try to save Marissa because you can see the same desperation in her . . . but I told you. People can’t save other people. Please don’t hate yourself if you can’t help Marissa Sullivan.”
“I can’t not try!” I flare before I even realize what I’m saying. Before I realize she’s put her finger on a pain point I was blind to.
I look away sharply, breathing in deeply and lowering my voice.
“Elle, her father died from drinking. I have yet to have one encounter with her where she’s not too fucking intoxicated to function. I don’t know what’s driving her into the gutter, but even if she’s suing me for my family’s legacy, I can’t stand by and do nothing. Our families are—in their own way—hopelessly intertwined. Would you leave her to ruin herself with pointless lawsuits and booze if you were me?”
“No. I wouldn’t. I’d do what I could for her, but . . .” Sniffing, Elle wipes at her eyes with her free hand and offers me the bravest smile. “You’re not her favorite person, August. I don’t know if she honestly believes Clara stole her father’s work or not. But she definitely believes your family is responsible for his death. He made those choices, of course, just like your wife made hers. But Marissa won’t be able to see that. And she won’t be able to see help for what it is, coming from you.”