Page 61 of Cry Madness
I shift the Dodge into drive, and the engine purrs as I speed off down the street. Alice’s small, delicate hand rests in mine with K.Flay’s “Weirdo” playing on the radio. I catch her quietly singing along, lost in her own sleepy world as she stares out the window. Everything feels easy, natural. We’re right back where we were three years ago, when we could sit in the same space and have it be…comfortable.
Though the drive only spans three blocks, the anticipation of spending the night with her at Folly House makes each second stretch into an eternity. I pull into the circular driveway and don’t see March’s car, which means I’ve beaten him home.
Not surprising.
After a bloody night, he disappears into the ether, off to do whatever it takes to reclaim even a smidge of peace. I’ve never needed that balance, but it is nice to have Alice with me to tether me to my humanity. To remind me that even after what I did to Adaway, I’m still a man and not a monster.
I park in my usual spot near the garage and dash around to help Alice out of the car. Then I grab her bags from the trunk and lead her inside the house. “Hungry?”
She scrunches up her face and shakes her head. “Nope, thank you, though.”
“Come on.” I trudge up the stairs, exhausted and grimy. Alice looks so tiny and lost in my room because mine is heavy and dark, unlike her dainty pink bedroom. Thick brown curtains hide the view of the backyard’s pool, which we rarely use. I flip on the lamp on the table beside the king-sized bed, then dump her bags near the closet. “If I don’t shower, I’m going to vomit from my own stink.”
Again, she crinkles her nose. “You are a bit ripe.”
I roll my eyes. “I’m terribly sorry for offending your fine sensibilities, milady.”
Alice dives onto my bed, grabs a pillow, and tosses it at me. But I catch it and throw it back at her, hitting her square in the face. Her laughter fills the space between us, pulling a smile from me as I sift through my drawer for a pair of sweats.
“Mind if I get in bed?”
“Baby, this is your room. Your house. You can do whatever you want here. Just stay out of March’s bedroom. He’s weird about his privacy.”
She rolls down the blanket and climbs onto the massive mattress. “I’ll try to stay awake.”
“I’ll try to be quick.”
I let the hot stream of water wash away the pain we inflicted upon Virgil, letting his screams and pleas flow down the drain. With deliberate intention, I scrub my skin twice, determined to cleanse my body of that brutal side of myself, fearful that it might somehow stain Alice. Once I’m satisfied I’ve cleaned away the violence, I step out of the shower and towel off. I pull on soft, gray sweatpants that hang loosely off my hips and pad back into the bedroom, mindful that Alice might have fallen asleep.
She hasn’t—and goddamn, she looks spectacular in my bed.
My cock’s already straining, and I have to give it a slight adjustment and a little squeeze in a tragically failed attempt to ease some of the pressure, anticipating the warmth of Alice’s body wrapped around me. Because tonight, she’s mine. All mine, all night.
She opens her arms to me. “Missed you.”
“I tried to be quick.” Settling in beside her, I let her wrap me up in her embrace, not realizing how desperately I needed this until now.
Smoothing a hand over my damp hair, she asks, “Do I want to know where you were?”
“Probably not,” I murmur.
After an audible exhale, she says, “I’d like to know anyway.”
“Why?”
She runs her fingers down my cheek, reminding me what it was like to be…petted. To feel loved by her. “Because there are no secrets between us, right?”
Not anymore.
Still, the words are tough to push out when I confess, “I murdered a rapist tonight.”
Her hand stills, and she tenses. “Oh,” she breathes. Then, after a long, pregnant pause, she says, “Anyone I know?”
“Thank God, no.”
“Do we know who he…raped?” Alice’s question is brittle, the last word rasped out like a curse.
“Sparrow Zanders.”