Chapter 38
Chapter Thirty-Eight
For hours after Gray left my house, I continued to walk past the black cardboard box on my kitchen table.
When I needed more coffee, I walked past the box.
When I needed a snack, I walked past the box.
When I needed water, I walked past the box.
Every time I looked at it, the butterflies in my stomach flapped their stupid little wings and my heart sped up.
Now, staring down at the sleek gift box, my blood rushes through my veins and pounds in my ears.
The last rays of the afternoon sun peek through the windows.
Its orange glow falls over the table, hitting the silky, red bow at the center of the box and turning it copper.
I trace my fingers over the soft ribbon as a shaky breath huffs out of me.
I try to ignore the memory of the last gift Gray left for me, but the harder I try, the more the picture takes shape in my head.
I swallow hard as a wave of nausea hits me, making my stomach clench and my mouth water.
The more I avoid the images that flood my mind, the clearer they become.
Blood. The smell of rust. The mangled, severed hand of the man who wanted to help me escape Gray’s obsession.
“I’m sorry, James.” The whispered words seem to linger in the quiet of my kitchen.
They stick in the air like an echo that I can’t hear, because the moment they left my mouth, I knew they weren’t true.
They feel hollow. My heart constricts painfully in my chest. I didn’t want him to die.
I hate that he died because of me. He didn’t deserve it.
But I can’t bring myself to feel regret for the fact that he couldn’t keep Gray away from me.
“I’m a terrible person,” I tell the beautiful box with its beautiful ribbon. “I’m awful,” I say as my heart begins to flutter at the sight of it. “I shouldn’t be excited to get a present from a murderer.”
The word murderer tastes sour in my mouth, sliding off of my tongue like wet sandpaper.
A realization settles in the pit of my stomach and all the air leaves me in a great whoosh.
I don’t see him that way anymore. He’s become so much more to me than the monster that crept through the dark parts of my home.
He’s embedded himself in me like a splinter that dug in deep.
I can’t get him out. I don’t even want to.
Something inside of me cracks and a piece of the protective shell around my heart breaks away.
The cardboard sighs as I pull the lid away from the box.
I delve my fingers into the red tissue paper, peeling it away from what’s inside.
Something soft brushes against my fingertips.
I rub my palm over the smooth fabric before pulling it from the box.
My eyes widen as I take in the cashmere sweater dress in my hands.
It’s perfect. The comfortable fabric falls to my knees and the deep plum color perfectly offsets my pale skin.
Heat rises in my cheeks when I look at the tag.
Gray cut off the price, but the designer’s name alone tells me that the dress costs more than I make in a month.
Peering into the box, I find one more gift nestled at the bottom. I pull out the beautiful, brown leather boots and squeal. They’re exactly what I would have chosen for myself or they would be if I could afford designer shoes. They look warm and cozy with a heel that’s short and practical.
He knows me in a way I didn’t expect him to.
Obviously, he followed me around enough to know what I like to wear, but this is more than that.
He chose something that would make me comfortable.
Has anyone ever done that for me before?
Has any man ever sacrificed the way he wanted me to look for something that would keep me warm and keep my feet from hurting?
The butterflies start up again, flapping their wings until my stomach feels like it might float away. Is this the feeling heroines describe in romance novels? This all-consuming feeling like a rope around my heart, dragging me toward Gray?
One thing is for sure. I’m too far gone for this man to pull away now.