Murder_ A Sinful Secrets Romance - Ella James Page 0,179

how to light a Marlboro. I inhale.

“Hey, man.”

Breck’s arm comes over my shoulders—heavy. “I’m gonna go back home. Wanna come with?”

I frown, trying to understand. For a second, my muddled mind can’t even place us on a map. The snow brings back a flash vision of Moscow.

Home, he said. “Like—your parents’ place?” My voice sounds weak and raspy. I swallow.

“Yeah. I might go back out later.” His hand slaps my shoulder. “Let me get ya home, brother.”

So Breck thinks I’m a mess. He lifts his arm off me. I watch him light his cigarette. I should go with him. Just end this shitty fucking New Year’s.

“Who’s the girl?” I ask instead.

Breck frowns, and I realize I should clarify. “The gorgeous one.”

He’s still frowning. I watch him pull his phone out of his pocket. Oh. He got a call.

“Ma,” he says affectionately. His face rises slightly in a smile that falls fast. Puzzlement twists his features. “Dammit. Okay—just sit down. Let me talk to Nic. I’ll call you right back. Don’t move.”

He huffs as he hangs up, and turns to me. “My fucking father and his fucking dick.”

“Damn,” I manage.

“I’ll be back in a few. Nic will go.”

Go home, I guess. That sucks for Breck’s mom. I’ve met her a time or two—not this trip, since I flew out by myself and got here later than everyone else. But she’s a nice woman. Acts like a mom to me, too. Breck’s dad is a dipshit.

I hear a creak and look over my shoulder. My stomach lurches and I have to blink my bleary eyes.

She smiles, looking so clean and sweet and shy. I watch her snap the buttons on her jacket. The fog of her warm breath surrounds her face, making her look ethereal. I watch her lips pinch as she digs into a pocket. Her mouth twists downward, then she laughs softly.

She holds something up: a broken cigarette.

“Could I bum one?” she asks, smiling sweetly.

“Sure.” With some effort, I manage to extract an almost-empty pack from my pocket. I don’t really smoke, but I got some after I left the cabin in New York and I held onto them.

I hold out one to her, and then the lighter.

“Thank you so much.”

“You’re welcome.” I lean slightly against the wall. The glittering snow all around us makes me feel as if we’re standing in a snow globe—that someone’s shaking.

I feel something on my arm and blink down to find her bare hand. My gaze shifts to her lovely face. “You okay?” Her voice is quiet and soft, beautiful and delicate as snowfall.

She asked if I’m okay. Fuck, that feels kind of good.

I smile for her. “I’m fine.”

She smiles, too. A melancholy, thoughtful smile that pierces through the numbness, prickling my heart. “You look sad,” she says quietly.

I try to laugh, and nudge her with my arm. “Why do you care?”

It’s a teasing tone I use and normally it works. Gets people off my back and makes it hard for them to see…the things I wouldn’t want them to. Of everyone I know, Breck and maybe Dove: they are the only ones that see through it. This girl isn’t fooled, either. Her face is still drawn up in what looks like pain. When her eyes lift to mine, I find them rounded with sincerity.

“I’m not having a very good night either,” she tells me. “And,” she blows some smoke out, arching her eyebrows self-consciously as she smiles slightly. “I care about everyone. It’s just the way I am. For better and worse.” She takes another drag. I watch her blow it out.

“There was this article one time. About Saddam Hussein. In some magazine. And these American soldiers who had taken care of him when he was in prison somewhere. It said he had a thing for Cheetos. Saddam.” She laughs wryly, shaking her head. “I found myself feeling bad for him. Like, sympathetic. It’s a curse.”

I open my mouth, because I want to tell her she shouldn’t feel bad for that POS, she should feel bad for all the innocent civilians he murdered.

But I look at her face, I see the sadness that’s still there, and all I think to ask is, “Why are you sad?”

My voice is rough and raw, and even through the scotch, I feel…exposed. I’m not up front like this. I don’t talk to anyone, about anything. It’s how I am. I guess I’m this girl’s opposite.

I definitely am, I decide as I watch her face twist up in