Page 68 of Kill for a Kiss

“I know I fucked up big time. But I wasn’t trying to hurt Elle. Kys made it too easy for me and her to be manipulated.” His voice cracks then. “I didn’t want to see, okay? But I do now.”

His gaze sharpens, locking on mine. There’s no grin on his face anymore. No arrogance, no lies.

“That’s why I came here. That’s why I needed this.” He gestures vaguely to the bruises and blood. “I wanted someone tolook me in the face and say what I was too scared to admit to myself.”

I exhale, running a hand down my face. The silence between us stretches, less like a standoff, more like a festering open wound.

“I want to see her,” he says.

Everything in me tenses, instinct snapping back. Because no. Absolutely fucking not. But I say nothing. I just stare.

He meets my gaze. “I know we’refucked,” he says. “All of this—what Clo did. What I let happen. It’ssick.”

He breathes out slow and heavy, like he’s finally letting go of something he’s been holding in for too long.

“I didn’t see it. Not until it was too late.” His voice cracks slightly again, just a hairline fracture. But I hear it.

He doesn’t expect forgiveness. He’s not asking for it. Not from me.

“That’s why I let you beat the shit out of me,” he mumbles. “Why I came here. Why I didn’t fight back.”

I don’t think he’s talking to me anymore. He’s talking to the guilt, to the version of himself that watched Clo break Elle down and didn’t stop it. That stood in the same rooms, smiled at her, said nothing. Same as I did, when I was stalling for a plan that was never going to come. Before I lied to Elle and took her. All for my fucking self. For me to have her and take care of her. To force her into recovery and make her rely on me.

Fuck.

I look at him. He’s a near-reflection, like looking at a smudged mirror. Just darker hair on him, a bigger build. But not much of a difference. He looks like a goddamn wreck. I look like that, don’t I?

Then he starts talking again. “I thought maybe if you hit me hard enough, it’d make up for some of it.”

I can’t answer. There’s too much in my throat. Guilt, fury, and something that feels awfully too close to understanding. I step back, because I realize we’re both in love with the same girl, but we boththink we’re the monster who doesn’t deserve her. And maybe we’re both right. But I’m not giving her up. Not now. Notever.

Stanley exhales sharply, probably feeling ignored since I haven’t said a word, shoulders sagging like the fight’s been drained out of him.

“I need to see her,” he says. “I need to know if she’d even want to see me again.”

I should shut him down. Tell him no. Tell him to stay the hell away. Remind him that Elle’s been through enough without having to look at the bastard who let Clo manipulate her. But I don’t. Because for once, Stanley isn’t pretending to be anything. He’s standing in front of me raw, wrecked, and almost unrecognizable.

He’s not just asking to see her. He’s asking for a chance to be forgiven. And I get it. I know the guilt, how it eats you alive. I’ve lived that. I’mstillliving that.

Stanley rubs at the dried blood near his mouth, wincing like the ache’s finally hitting him. “I didn’t know,” he mutters. “About what Clo was doing. I didn’t see it. I should’ve. But I was so far gone—”

“On Kys,” I finish for him, flat and unforgiving.

He nods, frowning. “Yeah, that among other things.”

It’s no excuse. I want to tell him that. I want to make it hurt. But I don’t, because truth is, if the roles were reversed, I don’t know if I would’ve done anything differently.

“I’m not asking to be let off the hook. I just—” His jaw works, like the words won’t come easy. “I want Elle to know I’m sorry. That I didn’t mean to let it happen. That I’d do anything to make up for it.”

I should tell him to shut up. That nothing he says changes what happened. But I can’t. Because deep down, I’m thinking of her. Of Elle, in my shirt, smiling up at me like I’d somehow made the world right again. And I know—if she knew Stanley was alive, broken and bleeding just yards away—she’d want to see him.

I grit my teeth, fighting the instinct to protect her from this mess, but I know it’s not my choice.

“Ask her yourself.”

Stanley blinks at my words. Clearly, he wasn’t expecting me to say that.

“What?” I tilt my head, voice low and biting. “Afraid she’ll say no?”