Chapter 27

My cheeks burned. I had forgotten about that. In the beginning, I had wanted to know anything and everything about him. Don’t you want to get to know each other before we do this? I had asked, somehow thinking it might give me an advantage over him. But it had made me more curious. Made me want to understand him. Now I knew more than I could imagine, and he wanted to know more about me.

But I hadn’t told anyone about this place, not since it had happened. How could I find the words?

“I used to come here with my little sister,” I mumbled. “Racing.

Playing chase. Daredevil stuff.” “Bambi?” he asked.

Bambi and I weren’t related. She was like a sister to me, but she wasn’t my sister.

“You don’t have a little sister,” he said.

A beat of silence passed, and then the air shifted between us. He had figured it out, then. It was easier to pretend like she didn’t exist. Easier for my parents. Easier for me. It was even easier for my big sister, Fiona. That way, there was no one to blame. But it never left us. My little sister was always there, her memory reminding me that it was my fault. That I could have stopped it. And that maybe I deserved whatever came to take me with her. I would never make up for what had happened.

I tucked my hair behind my ear. Wilder’s dark form was shapeless, but I knew he was looking at me. Trying to figure me out.

“By the pond,” I said, changing the subject. “Who was that, anyway?”

“A livestock order.”

And so we were back to our simple answers. At least he was honest.

“I get that,” I said. “But who? Who was she?”

“Eileen Hathaway.”

That name didn’t mean anything to me. And I had this feeling that her name didn’t mean anything to him either.

“Who ordered the kill?” I asked.

“A friend of my father’s.”

My spine tingled at those words. “What did she do?”

“I don’t ask questions,” Wilder said. “It’s not up to me to decide whether they deserve to die.”

In a way, I respected that. He didn’t ask questions because he didn’t believe he was any better than the people he was killing. He fulfilled his orders, and his duty, and did exactly what he was trained to do. His brother, Sawyer, had judgments and was convinced that I was a bad influence on Wilder. And maybe I was. Maybe if Wilder listened to his brother, I would have paid for my betrayals a long time ago.

“You saved me from your brother,” I said. “Why?”

He scoffed. “Don’t ask questions you know the answer to.”

“But I don’t know.”

Suddenly, footsteps echoed in the tunnel. I threw a hand over Wilder’s chest, and we both quieted, the sounds of our breaths floating between us. The person walked past us, whistling to himself. I kept my hand on Wilder’s chest, his heartbeat steady. And somehow, it calmed me too. I didn’t want to let go.

Once the person was gone, we both relaxed. I turned toward him, seeing only the shape of his face in the darkness.

“It’s not a dumb question,” I said. “Why keep me alive if you want nothing to do with me? You could get away with it.”

“You must truly want to die.”

“I want to know why you haven’t killed me yet.”

“Fucking hell, Maisie. You know why.”

And I knew that those words were the only answer I would get from him. Only a hint of an admission. He did care about me.

“You’ve never had a girlfriend before, have you?” I asked. “Are you having fun?” The irritation was ripe in his voice.

“I just want to know.”

The tension was thick in the air. Wilder may have been strange and erratic and controlled in a way that scared me, but I knew he wanted me, and that he wanted to protect me, even if he tried hard not to. He couldn’t help it. Like I couldn’t help but be fascinated by him. “All right,” I said. “I’ll say it, then. You want me.” Silence.

He didn’t deny it this time.

“But I try and try to get you to notice me,” I said.

And as those words came out, I realized that he did notice me. It was the perfume requests: smelling my natural scent, but not wanting to. The fact that he always came back in the evenings. That he let me follow him.

That he tucked me into bed. He had probably never had a relationship before. He must have always been with sex workers. It must have been why his father sought me out.

“I don’t get it,” I said. “You won’t even have sex with me.” I threw up my hands, the shadows of my arms darkening across his face. “I’ve tried everything. I always crack clients, even the cold ones. But not you. You shut me down every time. And then I think I’m getting close, and you throw me back. Not letting me—”

“Why do you want to have sex so bad?”

My jaw fell, guilt tightening in my chest, remembering the condition of receiving the million dollars.

“I told you,” I said. “Your father offered me a million dollars.”

“Why are you in such a hurry? You know you’ll get your money.”

“Is it that surprising that I want to know that you want me?” Pain drummed in my jaw. “I’m human, Wilder. I need physical contact, just like anyone else.” I raised my hands in frustration. “Like everyone else, except you.”

He straightened his posture, his shadow looming higher. “It’s not my fault that you need physical reassurance,” he said. “Not everything can be measured by sex.” He came closer, his breath on my face. “And yes, I want you, all right? But I’m not going to fuck you. I won’t let myself.”

Everything inside of me came to a halt. I realized what was keeping him back from me. I should have known it all along. The harsh way he touched me. His jagged movements. His uncontrolled passion. There was nothing fluid about him. He wouldn’t do it, because he had never done it before.

“You’re a virgin,” I said.