I fisted my hands, wanting to scratch him up good.

I was not miserable. I was…

My heart sank, and I looked away.

He was right. What had I done since the beginning but push Will away?

I knew how it would end, so I knew better than to let it start.

“He wore you down,” Damon went on, “and you need a release. I get it.”

He approached me again, water spraying over his body as he hovered over me, imposing in a different way now that still scared me, but didn’t frighten like before.

“So take it for what it is,” he whispered. “And release with me.”

My stomach swirled. Huh?

“His infatuation will end, so pretend you’re the one in control,” Damon taunted. “Call it for what it is, because it’s sure as shit not love. It’s a crush. Hormones. Instant gratification. Acting out.”

No. It wasn’t.

Was it?

I mean, was he right? Was Will just a scratching post? Would he ever be anything more? I knew he wouldn’t.

I could do it with anyone. I could do anything I wanted to. Will wasn’t the only person I could escape with.

“You feel it, don’t you?” Damon asked. “That need kids like us feel that Will never will? That need to destroy anything good, because every man for himself, and if you can’t beat ’em, then join ’em.” He came in and caressed my hair, and my chest ached, like something wanted to tear out of it, and I just wanted the pain to end.

Even for a minute.

I wanted the control.

“That tingle between your thighs,” he panted, “that’s telling you to just let it happen, because in the backseat of my car is where you’ll be in charge.”

I trembled, tears pooling, but when he pressed his body into mine, I gasped, my eyes falling closed.

“And when you’re done with me,” he breathed out over my mouth, “you’ll get to be the first to walk away from something that was never going to happen anyway. You can do that with me. Don’t play with his heart. Use me, instead.”

I’d be in charge, because I’d never love Damon.

I’d never be broken.

“I’m good,” he whispered, holding my eyes. “I’m really good, Emory, and I’ll make it worth it and save you the pain of him. As long as you quit now.”

I planted my hands on his chest, entertaining what it would be like.

What it would be like to feel him on top of me.

What it would be like to kiss that mouth.

I thought about what it would be like…for a moment.

And then I blinked long and hard, clearing my throat.

He was good. I’d admit that. No wonder he got as much ass as he got, because if all anyone wanted was sex, Damon Torrance was gifted at manipulating someone’s mind. Putting the right glasses over someone’s eyes to make them see the world how he wanted them to see it.

God help the woman who ever fell in love with him.

I was tempted. I was tired of myself, and it was alluring—the prospect of not being me for a night.

But Will liked Em. I’d rather live in that memory of the movie theater forever than ever make another one with anyone else.

I pushed Damon away. “And you call yourself his friend.”

He stood there, faltering for a moment, but then he chuckled, recovering. “His best friend,” he pointed out. “Maybe he sent me to test you.”

I rolled my eyes, wrapping my towel around me and shutting off the water.

“Or maybe not,” he said, and I looked over to see his eyes falling down my body slowly. “You would’ve liked it, you know? I think I might’ve liked it, actually. It certainly wouldn’t have been a chore.”

Asshole.

“Get out,” I said.

He nodded, turning around. “Well, I tried.” And then he looked back at me over his shoulder. “Has Will seen the bruises?”

I tensed.

“Be prepared for what’s going to happen when he does,” he warned. “And what can happen to him if he goes up against a cop.”

He walked out, and I stood there, my shoulders slowly slumping with the weight of his words.

Will could never see the bruises.

• • •

The moon hung low, casting the only light into the kitchen as I unloaded the dishwasher. I stacked the glasses and sorted the silverware, refusing to look at the clock that chimed on the wall, the pendulum inside ticking away the seconds.

“You should get to bed,” a voice said.

I faltered, hearing Martin behind me.

He approached my side and reached down, picking up a couple of plates out of the washer and handing them to me.

I took them, bracing myself. “I will after this,” I murmured. “Promise.”

I turned and put the plates in the cabinet, waiting for his temper. Always waiting.

“Your grades are looking good,” he told me instead. “And the gazebo is coming along. People compliment me on it.”

He loaded the dirty bowl and fork into the dishwasher, and I rinsed out the sink and wiped off the counters.

“You still have a year to start applying, but I’ll try to help with anywhere you want to go to college,” he said. “Okay?”

I blinked away the sudden burn in my eyes, nodding. These moods were harder to take sometimes than the violence.

I wiped down the stove, setting the spoon rest back in place and waiting for him to leave.

But then, I felt his fingers brush my hair, and I stopped, standing there but still not looking at him.

“I’m sorry, you know?” he choked out, and I could hear the tears in his throat.

I locked my jaw, trying to keep it together.

“I do love you, Emmy.” He paused. “That’s why I want you to go. You’ll be the one thing in this family that’s not a fucking failure.”

I closed my eyes.

Please, just go. Please.

“It just builds up,” he explained at my back, “all day, every day, until I can’t see straight, and I’m confused and blinded and ready to jump out of my skin. It’s like I can’t stop it.”

And when he comes home, he takes it out on me, because I won’t tell and I won’t run.

“I don’t even know what I’m doing when I do it,” he mumbled. “I just can’t stop.”

A tear fell down my cheek, but I didn’t make any noise.

“You know this isn’t me,” he said. “Right?”

I nodded, finishing the stove.

“Remember when I used to let you ride in the front seat?” he said, laughing a little. “Even though Mom said you were too little, so I’d wait until we got out of the driveway, and then I’d let you crawl up front?”

I forced a laugh. “Yeah.” I looked at him over my shoulder. “As long as I promised not to tell Mom you were running a casino night in the basement while they were in Philadelphia that time.”

He chuckled. “Is it strange that someone who loved breaking the rules became a police officer?”

“No,” I told him. “They make the best cops. They know all the tricks.”

He grinned. “True.”

And what better place for a criminal to hide?

I didn’t say that out loud, though.