My Dark Desire: Chapter 47

The Prius cruised down the tree-lined streets of Potomac, fending rain off its windshield.

It seemed so light. So insubstantial against nature.

A deathtrap.

I gripped the armrest, sinking my fingernails into it until I ripped the cheap fabric, ignoring the way my heart beat at ten thousand pulses a second.

His blood.

His face.

The scent of burned flesh.

The memories washed over me with rain, just as they always did. But denying Farrow this request meant continuing our earlier argument, and I didn’t want to risk it.

So… you’d rather risk perishing in this deathtrap?

Not my finest act of logic, but I’d quickly discovered logic didn’t exist when it came to Farrow Ballantine.

I double-checked my seatbelt, half-expecting it to split if I tugged too hard. “Must you drive like a maniac who just binged on four kilograms of coke?”

She continued speeding toward the outskirts of town. “I’m driving below city limits.”

I wanted to throttle her and kiss her at the same time.

We both dripped salty water into her seats, our clothes heavy and sticking to our bodies.

“Where are we going?”

“You’ll see.”

“No, you’ll tell me,” I snapped. Then, realizing I was being an asshole again, I cleared my throat. “I need at least some sort of control over the situation. This is triggering me.”

She pressed her lips together, mulling this over. “I’m taking you to my hideout place. I used to go there whenever I returned home from Seoul. I’d spend my entire summers locked up in a treehouse I built for myself.”

I believed her. Believed this woman built an entire fort for herself because life didn’t give her a kingdom of her own.

I stared at the tears in the car roof, welcoming the distraction. “Where?”

“Gold Mine Trail.”

“Great place to hide bodies.”

“Kept my options open.” She shrugged, her wrist slung on the steering wheel as she accelerated, ignoring the pounding rain. “I did live with Vera, Reggie, and Tabby.”

“Your father should’ve divorced her.”

Better yet—dumped her the minute he saw Farrow was unwelcome in that house. I secretly harbored some pretty fucked-up feelings toward the man.

He was dead now, but not dead enough to atone for how he’d treated his daughter.

Fae nibbled on her lower lip, considering my words.

“He was like me. He really wanted a family, at all costs. And… I guess it blinded him. The possibility of being welcomed into one.” She paused. “This is why I don’t do relationships. I don’t want to make the same mistake. To give too much of myself to the wrong person.”

The car slammed to a stop. Farrow pulled the handbrake in front of the park regulations sign.

I gripped the door handle, stifling a growl. The place was deserted, the Prius the only car in sight in the pitch-black night.

I watched her profile while my pulse slid back to normal. The way her eyelashes stuck together from the rain.

My phone buzzed in my pocket, text after text. No doubt from Eileen.

I couldn’t bring myself to care. For a woman who claimed to not want romance, she sought me out far too many times for my liking.

Farrow turned to face me. “Look at you.”

She gathered my hands in hers. Mine shook so bad, they jerked around, hitting the center console and seat.

Heat crept up my neck, warming up my cheeks and ears. I was embarrassed, and terrified, and furious, and alive. So fucking alive I choked on too much oxygen.

I’d never veered so far out of my comfort zone before. To me, entering an unsecured car was the equivalent of jumping off a plane without a parachute.

And entering one in the rain? Might as well ask me to slit my wrists first.

“Who hurt you?” She stared at me with angel eyes that saw good where there was none. “Who did this to you? Why are you like this?”

I stared at the trees ahead, watching as they swayed like praying people at a vigil. “I’m not the talk-about-your-feelings type.”

“I’m not the fuck-your-engaged-boss type.” She squeezed my hand, reassuring me in her own way. “We’re both out of our depths here. Talk.”

And in that moment, when it felt like the woods would swallow my secret and take it to its grave, I decided to make a tactical error for no other reason than to please this woman.

I moved the wrong stone.

“When I was 12, Dad and I picked up his anniversary gift for Mom. The pendant.”

Her eyes widened. “The other pendant in the set.”

I nodded. “On our way back, a truck slammed into our car and flipped it over. Dad shielded me with his body and died.”

I’m the only Sun in the world that brings darkness.

“Zach—”

I interrupted her, speaking with crisp, flat vowels. “But he didn’t have the privilege of dying instantly. Neither did I. A rake pierced through his body, turning his death into a slow and agonizing ordeal. The entire time, he watched me, his eyes turning redder as his face became bluer.”

Farrow sucked in a breath but didn’t say anything.

I carried on. “I watched him lose his life in real time.”

Even now, I could still see him dying before me. It didn’t take much to conjure the image.

Bile hiked up my throat. I swallowed it down, forcing myself to spit out the rest of what happened.

“Because of the way the car tipped, gasoline leaked into the engine. They had to take the car apart piece by piece before they got me out. For hours, my father’s dead body lay on top of mine, his blood dripping onto me.”

Farrow squeezed my hand tighter, encouraging me to continue.

“At first, the blood poured on top of me like a current. But eventually, it slowed to drips—splashing onto my face every now and then. I don’t even remember Dad’s last words.” I swallowed, pressing my eyes shut, knowing it wouldn’t erase the memory but wishing it could. “It rained that day. So goddamn cold, Dad must’ve felt it in his bones as he took his last breath.”

The air left her lungs in a whoosh.

I knew she pitied me. That most people would. Which was why I refused to tell anyone this. Not even the therapist Celeste Ayi sent me to until I turned sixteen.

Even Romeo and Oliver only heard about what had happened through the media and Mom.

Farrow whispered, not releasing my hand, “Was the driver drunk?”

“No.” I rolled my head over the headrest, salt seeping into my body through my drenched clothes. “That’s the worst part. He wasn’t drunk at all. He wasn’t a villain. Just an overworked father of five, who reached for his coffee in his cupholder and lost control of his vehicle.”

Farrow’s thumb stroked the back of my hand, moving in tiny circles.

I curled my free hand into a fist, digging my nails into my palm. “He drove over the limit to finish his last job early. His kid had a recital. He pleaded guilty immediately. Then proceeded to write us an apology letter.”

It occurred to me that Farrow had lost her father in an accident, too. I glanced at her, wondering if hearing about Dad’s death triggered anything for her.

I found my answer immediately.

She had her eyes fixed on me, her full attention focused on nothing but me.

I rolled my lower lip into my mouth. “The case never made it to court—he took a plea deal. Granted his wife a speedy divorce, so she could move on and find someone else to take care of the family. My mother still pays for her kids’ tuition.”

Fae buried her face in her hands. “Jesus.”

I wondered if this changed her perception of Constance.

For all of her negative traits—and there were many—Mom wasn’t a terrible human. Just deeply misguided, chained by grief, and struggling to exist without total control over every aspect of her life—and mine.

“I was left with all this rage and no one to direct it at.” I stared down at my lap. “And so, I turned my rage into guilt.”

I’d never said these words to anyone before. Or aloud, for that matter. The truth of them pierced my chest like a bullet.

I’d gone so long without feeling anything at all, that ever since Farrow entered my life, I’d been on sensory overload. She was living proof that angels existed in hell.

“I am so sorry.” Her voice drifted into my ears, soothing me where I burned. “I’m sorry the world was so cruel to you. And I’m sorry you had to carry this experience alone.” Her fingers interlaced with mine. “Most of all, I’m sorry no one taught you that it’s okay not to be okay. Healing is like treading water. You drown as much as you float. You need a shoulder to cry on, Zach. Not a bride.”

“Speaking of my bride…” I unknotted our fingers, still unused to being touched so much. “What happened tonight⁠—”

“Is none of my business,” Farrow finished for me. “We have a deal. I know you’re engaged. I should’ve⁠—”

“Let me finish.” I shifted, facing her. “I had this entire thing planned for you tonight. Dinner. Candlelight. Flowers… All those pesky things in movies.”

“You watch romance movies?” She looked unconvinced.

“Involuntarily. And only to come up with ideas to make you feel… unused.” I grimaced. “Just because ours is a clinical arrangement does not mean you should feel taken advantage of.” I paused. “Oliver gave me a list.”

She pressed her lips together, but a giggle slipped past. “What did you watch?”

“God-awful things.” I wrung my sleeve dry, making her laugh even harder. “When Harry Met Sally, which sucked.”

“It’s a classic,” Farrow protested. “What’s wrong with it?”

“In my opinion, two people with such unfortunate hair should not procreate. Only bad can come out of that.”

She tossed her head back, bellowing. “What else did you hate?”

“Titanic. There was room on that door, Farrow. In fact, there was room for a party of three if they squeezed in tight.”

The car shook with her laughter.

I didn’t understand why. I didn’t find facts funny.

She managed to wave between cackles. “Continue.”

I sighed. “Dirty Dancing should be called Creepy Dancing—Swayze was considerably older than her. And Call Me By Your Name is basically American Pie, but with a peach. Look, point is, I went through extreme discomfort to apologize for your birthday.”

Her smile dazzled now, so big it warmed my skin. “You made dinner for me?”

“All your favorites.”

“And bought roses and candles?”

“It was your birthday. And you did make a big stink about my gift, although I maintain that it was a nice gesture.”

“You asked your friends for advice?” She slapped a hand over her mouth, howling behind it.

I couldn’t help it—I smiled, too.

Her happiness was contagious.

“Stop looking so smug,” I ordered.

“Did you at least like one or two?” She wiggled her brows. “Movies.”

“Octi, they were objectively terrible.”

Her giggles trickled into my bloodstream, making me feel lighter. “Call me that again.”

“Octi?”

“Yes.”

“Octi.”

She grinned. “Such an unusual nickname.”

I smiled. “Such an unusual girl.” I peeled my jacket off my shoulders. “At any rate, as I sat there, surrounded by roses and a home-cooked meal I made myself, I realized how pathetic I was. You weren’t there. What’s more, you looked so happy going away, even when I begged you to stay.”

“I thought it was a power flex.” Her eyes softened, and I believed her. “How did Eileen end up where I should’ve sat?”

I gave her a blank, dispassionate stare. “She appeared at my doorway. She came to visit my mother across the street, and I suppose she figured we could go through our checklist while she was in town.”

Mom had appeared behind Eileen before I could turn her away, dragging her into my den and insisting we should all have dinner together.

Then, she’d made herself scarce before the champagne even made it into a glass.

“You know how my headaches are.”

Perhaps the least convincing excuse in existence.

She hadn’t had a headache in three decades.

Farrow appeared deep in thought, tapping her lips. “Why don’t you tell your mom you don’t want to marry her?”

“Because I don’t only owe a good marriage to Mom. I owe it to Dad, too.”

“And you’re willing to sacrifice your happiness for your mother’s?”

“Yes,” I said without missing a beat. “I’m used to feeling unhappy. In fact, I’m used to not feeling anything at all. At least Mom still has a shot at happiness.”

Not many things got to me, but those six or so years that Mom had zoned out of life scared the shit out of me. A repeat would ruin her.

Celeste Ayi and I did everything possible to prevent it.

Farrow looked miserable, which made me feel miserable. I loathed that her mood seemed to seep into mine, like we were connected by an invisible chain.

“I can respect that.” She nodded. “All I ever wanted was a family. Somewhere to belong. I can see why you’d make one up, even if it’s not organic.”

Farrow’s chills had graduated to violent shivering. I noticed her teeth chattered, too.

“We should get naked,” I blurted out.

She swatted my chest. “Very convenient.”

I licked my lips. “To prevent pneumonia.”

“I’m not that cold.”

“Well, in that case, do it for me.”

“You want me undressed?”

“I want you any way, anyhow,” I admitted, knowing she’d never misinterpret my intentions for her. “But especially naked, and specifically on top of me.”

She reached for the hem of her hoodie, pulling it off in one go.

And just like that, I went under, drowned by desire.