Page 42 of One Merciful Moment

A shadow fell over him.

He lifted his head.

Ashley stood in front of him. "I was looking for you."

"You don't have to check on me." He looked back down at the sidewalk.

"I'm worried about you." She sat beside him on the concrete step. "You left the mower running on the sidewalk."

He huffed a humorless breath. "Doesn't matter."

"Please, talk to me."

He shook his head, avoiding her eyes. "I don't want to do this."

"Do... us?" Her breath caught. "You don't like having a relationship with me anymore?"

"No," he blurted. "No, that's not what I mean. I don't want to lose you."

"Then what is it you don't want to do?" She paused. "Help me understand what's going on, because right now, I'm panicking. Last night, you didn't even touch me."

"You already know enough." His jaw clenched.

"What you were in the past is over. You're sober. You're not using." Her voice softened. "You're a different person now. I would never hold what you've done in the past against you. What you did before you met me doesn't scare me."

Boone laughed under his breath. "That's not the part you should be scared of."

Ashley's brow furrowed. "Then tell me the part you don't want me to know."

"No." He shook his head again, harder this time. "You should leave when you can. The moment that veil opens, run. Never look back. Your life isn't here in Everstill."

"Boone—"

"I'm not worth saving," he said, low and raw. "I'm not someone you build a life around. I'm not someone you stay for."

Ashley's gaze softened, but he saw the hurt behind it. He hated himself for doing it, but he could hurt her more. She was getting off easy.

She placed her hand on his arm. "Why would you say that?"

Boone stared at the lawnmower, still and battered. The red paint was faded and peeling.

He stared until it blurred. "Because I wasn't supposed to be here."

"What does that mean?"

He exhaled shakily. He hadn't said the words out loud in years. If he had his choice, he'd never tell her. Instead, he'd get fucked up. Heroin would have him nodding out. Meth would spin him around. Fentanyl would kill him in the best way.

Other people died from the drugs he sold. They escaped. He never could, no matter how much he used.

"Boone, please..."

"My dad killed my mom," he said quietly. "He shot her in the kitchen. Then he turned the gun on me."

Ashley's hand flew to her mouth.

Boone continued hollowly. "He pulled the trigger. I saw the bullet as it came toward me." He lifted his arm and showed her the scar on his ribs. "The bullet missed anything important. Barely even felt it, if I'm honest."

She lowered her hand but stayed silent.