17. Lee
Lee
“Fuck you,” I spit out, lunging at Elliot. It isn’t my best move. I was hoping to slam him back against the door.
Instead, he catches me midair, with an infuriating amount of ease, and holds both of my wrists against my sides. My bare feet swing inches above the floor while I thrash in his hold, still sticky with Julian and angry enough to take a bite out of him.
“Let go. I want to kill you,” I say, trying to pretend it sounded tough.
“No. Listen, kid,” he says calmly. “We’re going to talk. You’re not going to kill me.”
I kick his thigh, twisting my body, trying to break his grip. He barely reacts, tightening his hold instead.
“Get your hands off me,” I say. “You don’t get to touch me.”
His jaw clenches.
“Yeah,” he says quietly. “I know I have no right anymore. But right now, I’m going to keep you in place so you listen. Because if I let go, you'll do something reckless. And I'm not letting you get hurt because you're angry.”
A bitter laugh rolls out of me. “You expect me to believe you care? You don’t get to lie to me, betray me, show up here like some possessive action hero, and then decide I need protecting.”
His brown eyes flash. Good. I want him mad. I want him to feel an ounce of what I feel and see how fast he drowns in it.
“You can’t control me,” I snap. It’s a lie. He could. Hell, he has. I’ve been on my knees for him more times than I can count, letting him strip away all my control until I was only left with him. That was right before he fucked us.
His eyes flick to my mouth then back up, meeting mine. Just being in his proximity makes my heart race. Because I still know exactly how his mouth feels against mine, and I hate how badly I still want it.
He's also an asshole who gave God knows what to the people who killed my sister. I think he did, anyway. Honestly, what do I really know about Elliot anyway?
“Is Elliot even your real name?”
He looks down at me almost like that actually hurt him.
Good. I swing my foot against him again.
“Of course it’s my name. I don’t want to control you, Lee. I never did.” He shifts his grip when I kick him again, moving me farther from his chest. “Jesus, stop kicking me.”
I do an internal fist pump and try to wiggle away. It’s useless. He pulls me closer without meaning to, or maybe with too much meaning, until my chest brushes his. The contact sends heat skittering straight down my spine. I hate my body for responding.
“I didn’t pick them,” he says. “I picked you.”
I scoff. “Bullshit.”
“I would do fucking anything...” His voice drops and loses its edge, cracking on the last word. “Because I love you.”
My pulse stutters. “Don’t,” I say. “Don’t say things you don’t mean.”
“You think I don’t mean it?” His hands loosen around my arms, almost trembling now.
“Lee… I lied. I falsified reports. I stalled every lead that could have ended this with you in handcuffs. I sat in briefings and watched them build a case that would put you away for the rest of your life, and I helped them do it slower.”
“Stop.” I shake my head, but he ignores me.
“I killed the version of myself that believed in loyalty and duty. I killed the future I was supposed to have. And I’d do it all again without thinking twice.”
His forehead drops to mine, breath ragged.
“I didn’t ask you to,” I whisper, even though my voice isn’t steady anymore.
“I know,” he breathes. “That’s the point. You never had to. I just… looked at you and decided loving you was worth destroying everything else for, Lee.”
I don’t move. I can feel his pulse through his shirt, fast and hard.
“Let go,” I whisper. It doesn’t sound like a threat anymore.
He ignores me.
“If I could go back,” he says quietly, “I'd change a thousand things about how I did it.” His voice catches. “But I wouldn't change choosing you.”
My heart slams hard enough to hurt. “Yeah, maybe you are on my side now. But when we were together…”
His lips pull in a thin line.
“Did you use me?” My voice cracks. “Every time I trusted you... every time I cried to you about Julian... every time I let you touch me...” I swallow hard. “Was I just another part of your investigation?”
Elliot's face crumples, and he releases his hold on me. I will my legs to hold me up and take a step back.
“No.”
“Then answer me.” I force myself to meet his eyes. “Did you follow me to the gun range that day?”
His throat bobs.
“Were you watching me before that?” I whisper. “I found out about the other girls that day.”
“Yes.” The word barely leaves his mouth.
I shake my head, trying to make it fit together.
“Oh, God...” The realization crashes over me so hard my knees almost give out. “You weren't just comforting me.”
His eyes squeeze shut.
“You were working me."
“No.”
“Then what were you doing?” My voice cracks. “Because every question you asked... every time you told me I didn't have to carry it alone...” I shake my head. “Were you trying to get me to talk?”
“Yes.”
The single word guts me.
I laugh, but it comes out broken.
“God, you should get an Emmy.” I wipe angrily at my face. “You acted like you actually were worried about me. That day I realized I lov—” The word dies in my throat.
My shoulders shake with a sob I can't swallow back.
“Lee,” he pleads, reaching for me.
“No.”
Julian steps between us.
“Give her some space,” he says quietly.
Elliot hesitates, and I still can’t look at him. It’s stupid, but for one short second, I want him to refuse. I want him to force me to believe some part of us was real.
I’m so fucked-up.
And I don’t know how not to be.