Page 29 of Trading In A Broken Heart
“You called me a psychopath.”
“You are a psychopath.”
“I fed you.”
“You kidnapped me,” she reminded me.
“Fair.”
She laughed. The sound caught me off guard. I’d heard her laugh numerous times, but this time, it was genuine for me. For a second, I forgot every reason she’d been brought into my life. Forgot the war waiting outside these walls. The blood. The secrets.
Solei took a sip of water.
“You know what’s crazy?” she blurted.
“What?”
“You don’t seem like the person everybody says you are.”
I set my fork down. The smile left her face.
“Careful.”
“Why?”
“’Cause people usually say that right before they realize everyone was right.”
Silence stretched between us. Solei looked down at her plate.
“You ever regret it?”
“Regret what?”
“The things you’ve done.”
The kitchen grew quiet. Even the refrigerator seemed to stop humming.
I gawked at her. “Do you?”
Her eyes flickered. There it was. I’d struck a nerve. Her husband was probably dancing in her mind—the one she killed. The ghost that still followed her around.
She looked away. I leaned forward. “You think about him every day?”
Her jaw tightened. “Sometimes.”
“Liar.”
She slammed her fork down. “You don’t know what I think.”
“I know enough.”
“Then tell me.”
“You think about him every night. You think about the blood. You think about whether you’d do it again.”
Her breathing slowed, and she swallowed. “And the answer scares you.”
Neither of us spoke because she knew I was right. Finally, she pushed her plate away.
