Page 46 of Phobia

“I do. And if he evenlooksat you again, I’ll fucking end him.”

“Easy killer.”

“I’m serious.” He took my hand in his until I met his gaze again. “As long as I’m around, I’ll do whatever I have to to keep you safe. I mean that, Jamie. I’ve always meant it.”

I tried to ignore the fact Larkin was running his thumb along my knuckles, another one of those little gestures that gave me butterflies. “You already saved me once. You don’t have to keep doing it your whole life. It’s not your fault some psycho came after me back then and it’s not your fault one of your frat brothers is a pervy piece of shit.”

He shook his head, his dark gaze dropping but not quick enough to hide the fact his eyes had welled with tears. “Itismy fault, though.”

“What are you talking about?”

“He only came after you because of me,” he whispered, still not looking at me.

“Who did? Cody?”

Larkin shook his head again.

My mouth ran dry. “You mean th-the stranger? On Halloween?”

That time he nodded. Barely. “It’s my fault. I’m so sorry, Jame.”

“It’s not your fault. The cops never even found him. No one knows who he was. Just some… psycho that you scared off by bludgeoning him with that flashlight.”

“I have to tell you something.” He picked his head up, but it took a couple of seconds for his gaze to reach mine. “Please don’t hate me.”

My stomach dropped, as much from his words as from the anguished expression on his face. “What is it?”

Swallowing thickly, Larkin drew in a steadying breath before answering. “He wasn’t a stranger. He was there because of me. You see, he used to use me to lure other kids in. They’d follow me, back to him. And then he’d kill them. Right in front of me.”

I stared at him, slack-jawed, trying to remember how to breathe while my brain went into overdrive, attempting to process everything he said. My own words refused to form any sort of coherent thought or even a question.

Larkin kept going anyway, now that the dam had been broken. “After the last one, in New Mexico, I guess I wouldn’t stop screaming. I don’t know why. I don’t remember what happened. I’ve blocked a lot of it out so all I have are these bits and pieces. But he left. Left methere, with the corpse of a boy he’d kidnapped a couple of days before. The neighbors called the cops because of all the noise. That’s where they found me, in the basement of some crackhouse, with that other kid. Or what was left of him…

“The cops ended up tracking down my grandma in New Hampshire. We’d been on the run for years, always moving, hiding from my mom and the cops. She died while I was gone, so it was just me and Grandma. And then I met you. And things were good. Until he came back that Halloween when we were thirteen.

“He’d been watching me—us. He wanted me to come with him again and when I didn’t, he said I’d be sorry. Later that night he came after you. Because of me. If I’d just gone with him, none of this would have ever happened. I’m so sorry, Jamie. Please forgive me.” His voice broke as the tears spilled down his cheeks, dripping onto the tops of his knees.

I finally managed to find my voice for one question. “Who was he to you?”

“My father.”

I wanted to throw up. I wanted to scream. But more than anything, I wanted to comfort my best friend.

Pulling Larkin closer, I wrapped my arms around him, breathing in the scent of sea salt and limes from his body wash, grounding myself in his familiar warmth. “It’s not your fault,” I whispered. “None of this was your fault, Larkin.”

“He almost killed you,” he sobbed against my neck, squeezing my ribcage so hard I winced. “And it’s all because of me!”

“No, it’s not. Listen to me. Yousavedme, Larkin. You stopped him. Ok? It’s not your fault. I don’t blame you for anything.”

“I should have told you sooner. I know I should have, but I didn’t want you to hate me. After everything that happened, I couldn’t lose you. I’m so sorry.”

I touched his cheek gently, wiping away his tears with my thumb despite the fact they continued to spill out. “You don’t have to apologize. I don’t blame you for what happened or for not telling me. I don’t blame you for anything. Ok?”

“You don’t?” He sniffed, his lower lip quivering.

I shook my head, smiling softly. “No. I don’t.”

“You don’t hate me?”