Page 106 of Too Far

The fucker encroached on our first lighthearted moment in weeks, and he’s audacious enough to look at her and remind himself of what he pushed away.

No one is getting out of this unscathed.

Though I hoped we could get through this weekend without creating fresh wounds.

Apparently, it was too much to wish for.

I struggle against Kendrick’s hold, fully prepared to get up in Decker’s face if he needs the proximity of my fury to communicate the severity of his transgressions.

“I’m going,” he relents, shifting back into the house and out of sight.

Kendrick doesn’t back away from me as I crane my neck and watch him go, fighting down the urge to charge after him and lock the front door once he’s gone.

Chapter 49

Josephine

Deckerdidn’tresurfaceforthe rest of the night.

Thank fuck. Once was enough.

It’s impossible to avoid his presence altogether, of course. Not with the number of promotional posters that feature his likeness all over campus or the footage of him on the local news Jeannie insists on blaring while she works.

Though I hadn’t considered it a possibility before today, seeing his image everywhere made facing him for the first time hurt less than I anticipated.

Oh, the irony. Maybe there’s merit in his whole exposure therapy concept after all.

I’m loading the last of the dinner plates into the dishwasher when Mrs. Lansbury catches me.

“Child,” she murmurs in her melodic accent. “I told you, dear. I’ll take care of the dishes. The cooking. Everything. It’s the least I can do…” She trails off. By the sympathetic looks she’s been giving me since we arrived, it’s safe to assume she’s privy to the heartbreak and damage caused by her beloved employer.

Tightening the bow of the apron around her waist, she steps up to the sink. Softer, she says, “It helps me feel useful. Gives me purpose. The boys are always trying to pitch in, too, but I need to keep busy during times like these.”

Times like these.

I’m tempted to ask her if she means the storm heading up the coast or the tempest that’s torn our group apart.

But I don’t find the courage before Kylian sweeps through the kitchen.

“Jo. Let’s go.”

He’s all business as he marches deeper into the house. Ahead of me, his stride doesn’t falter as he calls back, “Good night, Mrs. Lansbury.”

I have no idea what we’re doing, but I’m more than intrigued to find out what’s got Kylian so hyper-focused.

Catching up to him, I link my arm through his. “Where are we going?” I whisper as he weaves down a hallway to a set of stairs.

“The Den,” he replies.

That’s his only explanation.

When I pause on the landing, still holding tight to his arm, he stops on the second step. Turning, he peers at me through his glasses. Standing like this, he has to look up at me.

“What’s the Den?”

Despite Kylian’s assurance that there would be no more run-ins with Decker, trepidation washes over me. This is his house, so I have no desire to hang out in public spaces.

Kylian tips his head to the side. “I forgot you’ve never been here.” A playful smile paints his face. “The Den is the cabin’s version of the Nest. Except it’s in the basement, so it’s pitch-black when I want it to be. Nice and cool, too. Ideal for sleeping.”