Chapter Sixteen
The Good Has Been Strongly Outweighed by Evil
Chloe found herself under the white gazebo once more. Months before, she had been there in the dead of winter when there was snow yet a promise of flowers. She had found it beautiful then, but now she found it… Breathtakingly beautiful.
Looking through the windows into the party, she realized she wasn’t any better at social gatherings than the last time. However, this time was a little different. She hadn’t expected Lake to go out of her way to say those things.
You shouldn’t hide your face. It’s beautiful.
Chloe reached up and swept her hair behind her ear, remembering her words. She had never thought that maybe they weren’t staring at her scars, but instead maybe her. Regret was setting in that she hadn’t said much to her or thanked her for being so nice, but the truth was she hadn’t grown used to kindness again. The good had been strongly outweighed by evil in her life.
Chloe knew if she didn’t expect kindness, she wouldn’t feel pain again. She knew the moment she grew used to kindness would be the moment it killed her all over again. The next time, I won’t survive.
“Hey, darlin’,” a familiar, deep voice greeted her.
Chloe looked up at Lucca, wondering how he could appear and disappear without a sound. He was the last person anyone would want to catch them off-guard, and she was the first person who shouldn’t be snuck up on.
Lucca pulled out a cigarette and held it with his lips as he spoke. “I hear you’re still saying you’re a germaphobe. Have you ever thought of telling the truth, just once?” He flicked his Zippo with his wrist and lit the end.
Chloe looked down at her lap and squeezed her hands together. “I-It’s not a lie.”
Lucca needed to only take a few strides before he stood above her, where he held out his hand. “Come on, darlin’; just try it once.”
Glancing up through her lashes, she stared at his hand. Just try it once. She didn’t know if it was the truth he wanted or if he actually wanted her to touch his hand. Either one would be a first, and either one would be just as scary.
Chloe released the pressure of her hands and felt an itching need to reach up and touch his.
Hers had only moved mere centimeters before she came to her senses. “I c-can’t.”
“Why can’t you?” his dark voice commanded.
Glancing up farther through her lashes, she met his face. “Because I’m scared to,” she whispered her confession.
Did I just say that out loud? To him?
After a moment longer, Lucca sat down on the chair in front of her. “That wasn’t so bad, darlin’.” Taking another puff of his cigarette, he continued, “It’s summer now, and you’re still wearing long sleeves.”
Chloe quickly pulled the sleeves of her black dress down to make sure her arms were covered. How does he always know? She didn’t know whether the trait added to his scary or sexy side. It was too hard to tell right then when she was looking at him.
His appearance seemed even rougher than the last time she had seen him since his black-brown hair and beard had slightly grown out. However, he still kept up his bad-boy appearance by wearing dark jeans and a black T-shirt which hugged his muscular frame.
Lucca flipped out his silver Zippo and began rolling it through his fingers. Then he waited for her to become entranced in the flame. “Are you going to college?”
“Yes, of course,” she answered mindlessly.
He weaved the lighter faster through his fingers. “Where?”
“Stanford, in California.”
Swiftly, he flipped the lighter closed. “That’s awfully far, darlin’. I guess you do get to keep running.” Lucca stood over her once more.
Chloe sucked in her breath, waiting for what he would do next. She began to feel a sudden déjà vu, realizing this time had gone much like the last.
“She is right, you know. Those scars are beautiful.”
She could sense his hand wanting to touch them, exactly as she sensed his disappointment with her going to California.
He was gone before she knew it, like he had appeared.
Chloe reached up and smoothed her finger over the scar on her cheek. Those scars are beautiful, she repeated his words in her head.
Not in the least.
* * *
As Lake closed the door to the backyard behind her, she was met with three confused faces.
“What?” she said after they continued to stare at her.
“What did you say to her?” Vincent asked.
Lake looked at him then to Nero and Amo, all wondering the same thing.
What the hell? “Um, why?”
Vincent tried again, “Because I asked.”
Now I remember why I don’t like him.
Lake decided to simply walk past him, ignoring him completely. She was done trying to talk with him because his attitude had only gotten worse over the months. Besides, she heard the music starting up, and she wasn’t going to miss her chance to dance again with Adalyn.
When she took a step to pass him, Vincent grabbed her arm, stopping her. She tried to jerk back unsuccessfully.
“Get. Off.”
“Not until you answer me, sweetheart.”
“I wasn’t fucking mean to her, if that’s what you were thinking!” Lake finally yanked her arm again, and he let go. She smoothed down her dress to cover more of her legs from the jerking. “Now, will you please move? I’m going to dance.” She made sure the ‘please’ part was sarcastic.
Amo took a step forward, quickly insisting, “I’ll go with you.”
Vincent quickly put his hand on Amo’s shoulder, squeezing so hard it made his knuckles go white.
Lake glanced at Amo. He is a big mother trucker. Yes, he scared her with the way he was eyeing her up and down, and no, she didn’t particularly want to dance with him because he didn’t ask if he could, more like told her. She didn’t care at the moment, though, because it was clearly making Vincent mad.
She smiled as sweet as butter. “Oka—”
Vincent quickly snatched her arms and began pushing her backward until she found herself plastered to the glass wall. Her eyes widened when she looked up at Vincent’s face, realizing she might have pushed him too far.
“What did I tell you the last time?” he gritted out.
Lake lowered her voice to a whisper as she tried to see over him. “Vincent, there are people—”
Vincent pushed his body closer to hers, making her press more into the glass. Gently, he placed his hand over the top of her throat so she wouldn’t have a choice other than to look at him.
“When I ask you a question, sweetheart, you will answer me. Now, don’t make me ask you again.”
Lake’s chest thought it was going to burst out of her dress with the way she kept breathing.
His thumb glided back and forth over the pulse in her throat, letting her know he was completely aware of how she felt. She had pushed Vincent way too far, and she had forgotten until right then exactly what kind of man he was.
“I … I don’t remember.” I do, but I can’t say it. Regardless of how much she tried to kill Vincent off in her head, those words he had spoken still came to her.
“I’ll remind you.” Taking his other hand, he swept her silky, light-brown hair behind her ear. “I told you if you ever went on a date again, I would chop his hand off. Fucked someone, I would chop his dick off. Do I need to leave to go do either of those things?”
Her mouth grew dry as she managed to slightly shake her head under his grasp.
“Good girl.” Leaning over, he put his mouth as close as he could, careful not to touch her ear. “I also told you that, if I ever caught you dancing and looking like that again, your days of being a virgin were over.”
Lake squeezed her eyes shut with each word he whispered in her ear. The warmth of his mouth so close to her skin made her body respond by heating every inch of her flesh.
Vincent leaned back up, eyeing her body with intensity. “Sweetheart, you are halfway there with that dress.” Taking his hand away from the grasp he had on her hair, he traced her chubby bottom lip. “I dare you to try it.”
When Vincent pulled his hands off her after one last swipe of his thumb, Lake’s body instantly cried for them to return.
She watched Nero and Amo move from their blocking positions, only then realizing they had been there the whole time. The two had put their backs to them so the world couldn’t see.
Lake was forced to watch Vincent walk away from her again, just as easily as he had the first time.
Goddammit, I hate him.