He is not a man who hurts the woman he loves.
And yet he is doing all of these things.
My thoughts, violent and dangerous, swirl inside me as the last of the city lights fade, leaving nothing but the forested acres that line the highway. The engine is smooth, remarkably quiet, and I am tired. Not simply because of the late hour, but because of everything that has been resting upon me. I close my eyes and relax, only to sit up again with a jolt seconds later when I realize the car is stopped, the engine turned off.
“What?” I feel groggy, my mind full of cobwebs. “What happened?”
“You had a nice nap,” Damien says.
A nap?
I frown. “How long?”
“Almost half an hour.”
That startles me to wakefulness, and I sit up and look around. We appear to be in the parking lot of a rustic restaurant with plenty of outdoor seating. It’s closed now, the empty picnic tables seeming eerie rather than welcoming. “Where are we?”
“Seehaus Kranzberger,” he says. I must look as confused as I feel, because he grins. “This used to be one of my favorite places near Munich. Alaine and Sofia and I used to come here once Alaine was old enough to drive. Later, I would come by myself. There are a lot of memories here,” he adds, an odd catch in his voice.
“But it’s closed,” I say stupidly.
“We didn’t come for the food,” he says. He gets out, then comes around the car and opens my door before I have a chance. He reaches a hand down to help me out, and I stand gratefully.
“Why did we come?”
“Walk with me.”
I study his face, unable to read his mood. He takes my hand and leads me down a narrow path that meanders through tall, leafy trees, their green leaves now black and gray in the moonlight. I cannot imagine where we are going, but then we turn, and I gasp. A lake is spread open in front of us, a wilderness surrounding it, the moonlight sparkling on the surface, and the giant orb of the moon itself reflected in such a way that it appears that we could dive in and capture it for ourselves. “It’s beautiful,” I say.
“Welcome to Kranzberger See. I used to spend hours here,” he says. “I would sit on the bank and listen to the water and the birds and the wind in the trees. I would close my eyes and get lost.” He has been looking at the lake, but now he turns to look at me. “I wanted to show you,” he says. What I hear is, “I’m sorry.”
I swallow and nod, feeling overwhelmed. “Thank you.”
He lifts our joined hands and gently kisses my palm. The gesture is soft and sweet and achingly romantic, and I can’t help but wish that we could stay here, lost in the dappled light, hidden away by the fantasy of being all alone in the world.
A tremor ripples through my body, and I turn away. I’ve fallen so fast for this man, and I am terrified of losing him. Terrified that whatever good we’ve discovered together despite our shitty pasts will be ripped away. I press my lips together to hold back an anguished scream, because that is all I want to do right now—scream and yell and cry until Damien does whatever he has to do to fix this and make all the horror go away.
But I don’t. Instead I stand firm like a rock, knowing that the slightest motion could set me off. I feel wild and volatile and dangerous. And right now, the last thing either of us needs is an explosion.