Chapter 20

CHAPTER TWENTY

LILY

H is apartment is easily the most expensive I've ever set foot in. It's a penthouse with floor-to-ceiling windows that look down over the city. Everything is modern, new, clean, and a little clinical, almost like he needs a lady's touch.

Sitting across from him in the living room, I remind myself this isn't about that. I can't let the memories of last night rule me. The two kisses will have to be enough. I have to remember that he may be a killer, that Mom disapproves, that he's going to be gone soon, and this could get me fired.

How many reasons does one girl need? Still, I can't stop obsessing.

"The middle of the night," he says, sighing and rubbing his large, powerful hands together. "Damon's a sick fuck, and he knows how difficult it would be to get a police team out there to monitor it. Even then, he might have cop contacts, dammit."

"There must be something we can do."

"Me, Lily," he growls, staring at me almost like he did last night with that nobody-else-exists look. "Not us . Clearly, you've been warned about me."

"Why's that so obvious?"

"Because you're looking at me like you know something." He rests his elbows on his knees. He's wearing a sleeveless shirt and shorts, showing off his massive, muscled arms. The outlines of his strength are evident in the cutting lines. "Or you think you know something."

I sit up. "This isn't about anything else. Just The Row."

"I've already figured out what I'm going to do," he says.

"Well … what?"

"It's safer if you don't know," he grunts.

"So we're done?" I say.

He nods. "As far as The Row goes … unless you want something to drink or eat." His voice tilts up at the end, a note of hope entering it. I know I should tell him no.

Instead, I smile. "Are you offering to cook me a meal?"

He laughs. It feels so normal and effortless despite everything—so natural. It's almost like we were destined to be together. I stop the thought before it can finish as if it will make any of this more manageable.

"I'm not much of a cook, but for you, I'll try." He stands up. "I'll check what we've got."

Once he leaves the room, I try to convince myself to get the heck out of there. "I've done my part," I try to reason with myself. I didn't have to tell him what Grace told me. He knows now and says he has a plan, but I don't want to leave even if I should. Even though Mom will be pissed, and the nerves twist through me at the idea of going all the way with him.

Nobody will see us together. My job can't end because of a meal .

When he returns, he's got this almost boyish look on his face. I think it's just the excitement of me saying I'd hang around for a while. It makes me grin and fills me with much more positive emotion than should be possible between us, considering everything.

"Pizza, okay?"

I laugh. "Pizza sounds perfect."

"I don't use this room much," he says when he sees me looking around his dining room at the tall ceiling and its sheer space.

"It's perfect for dates …"

He shakes his head. "I meant what I said. I haven't dated in years."

"Even then," I murmur, remembering a shimmer dancing over me. "It wasn't like with us …"

"Exactly," he growls.

"I didn't get a chance to ask what you meant by that."

"You shouldn't be asking now if this is strictly business."

"I am anyway," I say, then take a bite of my pepperoni pizza so I don't keep going. Do you feel the same as me? This crazy mixture of everything being new, exciting, dangerous, yet oh-so-natural?

"Natural," he says, like he's reading my thoughts. "That's how it's felt, being with you, but your mother is right. It hasn't been long."

"Is that all she's right about?"

"I wasn't lying about the health stuff," he shrugs. "That's life; it is what it is."

"But …" I almost chicken out but force myself to continue. "What do you want with me, then? I guess Mom had a point there."

"I want you," he says fiercely. "I can't put a label or a trajectory on it. It's probably damn unfair of me to even tell you this. Maybe your mom's right. Maybe I mean too much for you to think clearly?—"

"I can make my own decisions," I snap.

"Either way," he remarks, "it makes no sense for me to tell you this. You're just so damn beautiful, so kind, so intelligent, so sassy, so determined, so impressive."

My body floods with so many warm emotions that it makes me suspicious.

"You think I'm love-bombing you," he says, looking closely at me.

"It's that obvious?"

"It makes sense. I met your father, remember? I know what he was like. What sort of man he was. I'm not, by the way. I'd never do that to you. I said all that because it's the truth. You are an amazing person, whether or not you like me saying it."

"I never knew my dad, not really," I murmur, changing the subject. "I saw him hurt Mom sometimes if he was drunk. You saw the bruises."

The mood darkens immediately. He clenches his fist, trembling. "Yeah, I did, and that's why I pushed for you to stay with your mom. It was pretty damn obvious who was in the wrong there."

"That wasn't often."

"Either way, it was evil," he growls. "What happened to him?"

I shrug. "He went to jail for those four months, then he disappeared. He left. He never contacted us again. Mom said he once seemed scared when he called her from jail."

"Good," Landon snaps.

"I never saw him scared," I say, a hopeless feeling gripping me. "Just big and tough and filled with rage. Mom always told these stories about what he was like before. It was almost like she was trying to convince me she had an excuse for being in this mess. He changed like that , apparently." I snap my fingers.

"I saw it a couple of times," Landon says. "He'd try to switch it up on me, but I knew what sort of man he was. I wouldn't fall for his bullshit charm."

"After it was all said and done, you scared him."

"Did your mom tell you that?"

"It's the only thing that makes sense. You scared him because there's another side to you, right? There's a demon in you."

Landon unclenches his fist slowly. It looks like it takes a considerable effort. "Yeah, maybe there is. Or maybe I'm just a man who understands certain people will never learn their lesson. You're right, Lily. I put the fear of God into your father. I held him at gunpoint, and I said some seriously deranged things so he'd get the point, and I'd do it again."

"I'm not mad about that," I murmur. "I just wanted to know, but what about the other thing?"

"Are you wearing a wire?" he grunts, then stuffs a slice of pizza into his mouth.

"Hilarious," I snap.

"It's not necessarily a joke," he says after eating. "Just like there's a world where I'm love-bombing you, and everything I've said is bull, there's a world where your friends at work have asked you to record me. The thing is, Lily, I trust you. I killed that man."

He speaks so coldly, so savagely. It causes a weird sensation to dance through me, like a combination of lust and righteousness.

"What happened?" I whisper.

Landon stares at me. This is difficult, but he won't let it break him. He won't look away. "At the house, that monster admitted to … hurting his daughter. He bragged about it to my face. I blacked out. When I woke up, I'd strangled the motherfucker. I was going to turn myself in, but the mother begged me not to. She said we could get away with it.

"My friend Ethan saved my ass. He has police contacts through his family. It was suspicious and close at certain points, but I got away with it. Carter's right. There's a demon in me. I won't deny it, but I think he and the rest of them are goddamn hypocrites for branding me the way they have. They would've done the same if they were in my position."

"Carter says we need to work inside the system," I murmur.

"I don't care what Carter says. I care what you think. Hearing the truth, do you hate me?"

"I could never hate you," I whisper, warning myself to be careful, "but …" This next bit will be painful. "I can't be with you."

"You can't be seen with me," he says. "Did they come outright and tell you they'd fire you?"

"They're being sneaky about it." I shrug. "It's my job, Landon. It's everything I ever wanted."

"Nobody can see us now," he says in that husky voice, sending tremors all over me.

"Yeah, but what about the future? We can't exactly date like this."

He smirks. Suddenly, all the darkness seeps out of the room. I wonder if he knows how impressive that is and how strong his effect on me is. Nobody else has ever even come close.

"I'm not thinking about the future," he says.

"What did the doctor say?" I ask. "If you don't mind me asking."

"The big C. I'll get more details the day after tomorrow, but he made it clear I had months. Months , and I've wasted so many years helping to tear relationships apart, milking idiots."

"Why?" I ask. "If you hate it this much …"

"That's the thing. Before this diagnosis, I put little stock in how I felt or in what I wanted. I saw that there was a business opportunity. I promised Ethan I'd help, so that's what I did. I lived my life on autopilot before …"

His gaze lingers on me. "Your diagnosis?" I fill in.

"No," he snarls. "Before I saw you. You've made me feel alive."

"Don't," I whisper.

"Don't tell you how perfect you are?"

"Every time you say something like that, it's like a little shot of dopamine right in my brain."

"Dopamine's the pleasure chemical, right? Isn't that a good thing?"

"No, because pleasure makes it hard to think clearly."

He laughs ruefully, looking me up and down. "You don't have to tell me that." He stops smiling when he sees I'm being serious. "I know how it sounds, but it's true. I saw you, and it was, like you said, a shot of dopamine … or twenty."

"You're not tricking me?" I murmur. "You're not just saying what you think I want to hear?"

"I wouldn't fucking do that," he growls. "Sorry. I didn't mean to curse at you, but hell, it just makes me sick, even the idea of tricking you like that. You don't deserve it. You're too …" He trails off when he realizes he's about to go into another complimenting spree. "I'm not."

"Were you telling the truth about not dating?"

"I told you—autopilot. I've been a logical, cold, shameless, capitalist killer until you."

Another shiver moves through me. I squeeze my legs together under the table, relieved he can't see because there's so much inside me that's telling me to leap across the table, grab him, and kiss him. This time, go further than we did last night.

"I should get going after this," I say, nodding to the pizza. "Mom's probably wondering where I am."

He nods, picking up another slice.

We eat without talking for a few minutes. I'm surprised by how comfortable it feels. It almost gives me long-term couple vibes, but then I'm hit with the cold fact that we can never have that. Fantasizing about it is useless, even masochistic.

"What are your plans for the rest of the night?" I ask.

He shakes his head. "You can't know that."

"They have something to do with The Row?"

"Are you trying to get yourself in trouble?" he says.

"There isn't a case there, is there?" I go on. "What are you going to get them on? Will you get the parents to testify that their kids are being groomed?"

He runs his hand through his hair. "Lily, I'm not telling you a damn thing, but let's just say this. Damon made a mistake pushing a man who has nothing to lose."

"What does that mean?" I snap, horrible images flashing across my mind. "What are you going to do?"

"I can't tell you," he snarls, "but I know one thing. I won't let them hurt those kids."

"But—"

"You need to stop asking," he cuts me off. "What good can it do, Lily? This is out of your hands now. If you're even a small part of this, you and Carter will lose your jobs, right?" I reluctantly nod. "So leave it alone. Anyway, it's not like we're?—"

"Just because we're not going to get married one day, it doesn't mean I can't care," I hiss. "Just because you're going to …" Tears abruptly spring to my eyes. It must be the quickest I've ever gone from dry-eyed to crying. I wipe angrily at my face. "Just because you're ill, it doesn't mean I want anything bad to happen to you."

He reaches across the table and takes my hand. Until now, we've both been careful not to touch each other. We know that any contact is a risk of us never letting go. He holds my hand, smoothing his thumb over my knuckles.

"Everything's going to be okay," he says.

I laugh away a sob. "That's just silly. How can you say that?"

"Your life is going to be okay … better than okay. You're going to make such a difference."

"I don't want you to go," I whisper, my voice cracking. The tears flood from my eyes, flowing down my cheeks now. My vision blurs from the crying. It's like two different versions of reality clash together. I see the younger version of Landon and now this one, and then the younger, past and present, clashing.

"Lily," he says passionately, walking around the table and leaning down into a hug.

I stand up, meeting him halfway, pushing my face against his chest. When I was driving over here, I seriously thought I'd be able to hold my emotions inside. I thought I could go into work mode and switch them off, but that seems like a joke now.

Wrapping my arms around him, I dig my fingernails in, clutching onto him tightly. I can't believe somebody so solid, so real and vital to me, impossibly significant, won't be here anymore.

"Lily," he whispers, stroking his hand through my hair. "It's going to be okay. I promise."

"Not for you," I moan.

He kisses the tears from my cheek, cradling my face and brushing hair from my eyes. "Your life, though," he goes on, smiling tragically. I can tell he's just trying to brighten me up despite the pain he must be feeling. "We got to share this time, at least. If you leave here and decide you want nothing to do with me—this meal, last night, the restaurant—I'll count myself lucky to have had that."

I try to fight off the tears. I try to tell myself it could be one giant love bomb, but I can't. I push myself against him again. He holds me for what feels like a long time, whispering that it'll be okay over and over. He sounds desperate for me to understand, to believe.

"It would've been better if I'd left you alone," he groans. "Then you'd have nothing to miss."

"No," I say passionately, his words jolting me from the sadness. "I feel the same. I'm happy we've shared what we have, and maybe we can share more. Maybe we can do this again, and you can give me a rundown of what happened?"

"Lily …"

"I know." I squeeze onto his arms, feeling the solidness, the permanence. "I shouldn't be asking this. I'm sending so many mixed signals. I know all that, but I can't leave here thinking we'll never see each other again."

He brings his lips to mine in a searingly passionate kiss. I grip the back of his neck like I'm holding on for my life, and maybe I am, in some sense. I'm holding onto a version of romance I never thought I'd experience—my knight —and I don't care how cheesy that is.

He grabs my hips, gently pushing me away as he leans back. "You drive me too wild, Lily. You know what you're making me think, making me want …"

I almost reach out and start stroking the front of his pants, but then a bout of nerves grips me. With so much serious stuff going on, it's frustrating even to be thinking about my virginity. But I can't just suddenly become some sex goddess for him.

He reads me, taking another step back. "Your mom will probably wonder where you are."

"Yeah," I say, "but we'll talk soon, right?"

He nods. "I can see you out."

We don't kiss again. I think he's trying to be a gentleman. As I leave his apartment building, it's as if I'm walking out of a dream. I came here determined to keep us separate, to walk that line between need and knowing we're never going to work, but I didn't walk it. I stumbled. I wanted to stumble, and now I want to do it again.

Maybe there's something wrong with me for not caring about the apple tree case, believing him so easily, or crying so fiercely for a man I should be able to let go.

Already, I'm waiting to hear from him. I was supposed to be content to let this case go, but I can't.