Page 45 of Tourist Season

I have a lie ready for exactly this question, one Arthur himself made up for me four years ago.

I could feed Nolan the same story about being distant relatives.

But instead, I say, “I was boondocking near the Lancaster Distillery. I walked into town to get supplies one day and I was passing by this same park when I saw an old Chevy Nova drive by. My dad used to tinker with vintage cars, so I noticed it right away. But then a few minutes later, it passed me again, heading in the same direction. And then again, a few minutes later.”

“Someone was following you?” he asks, and though he tries to keep his voice even, there’s still a thread of malice woven into its notes.

“That’s what I thought at first. So I stopped and pretended to tie my boot and watched for the car to come again.

I thought maybe I was just paranoid. But sure enough, the old Nova drove past a fourth time.

Just one man in the car. Going slow. But he wasn’t looking at me.

He was watching three little girls playing tag at the park with no grown-up around.

I just … had a feeling …” I swing back and forth, looking toward the street as I recall the instinct that fired to life in my veins.

And the rage . Nolan’s fist tightens around the chain in my peripheral vision, and I can feel that same fury churning within him.

We might have started as enemies. Two monsters who are missing their souls.

But our shadows share a likeness. “I came up here and sat on the swings, just close enough to keep watch on the girls. And that night, I hunted him down. Except Arthur had found him first, and I waltzed in just after the kill.”

“And Arthur didn’t try to attack you?” Nolan asks.

“He was pretty surprised, but no. Not at all. We kind of hit it off, actually. Shared interests and all that.” A wistful smile rises on my lips as I watch Lukas park in front of the theater just long enough to help his grandfather into the passenger seat of the old Jaguar, and then they’re off, headed for the estate.

“By the end of the night, he offered me a permanent home if I promised to learn how to look after Carnage the same way he always has. The rest is history.”

I feel Nolan watching me, but I don’t return his gaze. “That’s a lot of responsibility.”

“Yeah, but it’s a strange town. It attracts a lot of great people, sure.

But a place like this summons the shitty ones too.

It would quickly turn to chaos if someone weren’t here to protect it.

Yates and his deputies certainly aren’t up to the task, and it’s not like Arthur can do it forever.

Someone’s gotta take his place and look after Cape Carnage. ”

“Don’t you find it exhausting?”

“Sure,” I say with a shrug. “Sometimes.”

“You look after Cape Carnage. You look after Arthur.” The weight of all his attention burrows into the side of my face. “Who looks after you ?”

My swinging slows to a stop. My lungs stall around a breath. The scent of sandalwood and cedar still lingers in my senses. My thoughts leap in several directions all at once. When I turn to face him, Nolan is watching me intently. “I do,” I say.

We stare at each other for a long moment, neither of us moving.

I don’t know what he makes of my answer.

But I do know that no one has ever asked me that question before.

Aside from Arthur, Nolan is the only other person who knows my true nature.

But he also seems to understand everything else.

The weight of this responsibility. The pain of the loss I’m powerless to stop.

Nolan sees it all. He sees me . And he looks at me now as though he wants every piece of my broken soul.

Nolan rises from his seat on the swing next to me. His eyes never leave mine as he stops in front of me, blocking my view of the street and the sea and the moon that hovers in the sky behind him. The whole universe around us seems to fall away.

“Maybe you should let someone take care of you for a change,” he says.

My heart riots. I should leave , the rational voice says in my head like a repeating plea.

But that voice grows quieter every second that he watches me, until it fades into silence.

“Maybe. Any suggestions on who? Your version of ‘taking care of me’ might be tossing me into the ocean with concrete shoes.”

Nolan drops to his knees in front of me, gripping my ankles to keep me in place.

His eyes shimmer in the dark. I could kick him off.

Push him down. A dark thrill courses through my veins when I wonder if he’d pursue me.

But I already know he would. He wouldn’t stop until he caught me.

He would revel in every second of the chase.

And he’d probably love punishing me for it.

So would I.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he says.

It might not be delivered as a promise, but I want to believe that.

I want to trust him in this too. And if I could just tell him the truth, that I’m not who he thinks I am, maybe everything would be easier.

I know I’m no saint, not after the things I’ve done.

Not after I left him for dead. Even still, I wonder if he could forgive me for that if I were honest. But I will not break my promise to Arthur.

“I’m not the person you think I am” is the closest I let myself come, and even that is only a whisper, as though anything louder will shatter my vow.

“You’re right, you’re not,” he says as he slowly pulls one of my feet away from the other, dragging it through the rubber mulch. “You’re so much more than what I thought you would be.”

He could mean anything by that, good things or bad. But the heat in his touch sets off an electrical storm in my veins. I can feel the dampness of my panties. My nipples tighten. A shiver trembles through my flesh, one that has nothing to do with the deepening dusk.

“I’m desperate for a taste of you, Harper.

” He pulls my other ankle through the mulch, spreading me wide.

“I’m fucking starving for it.” My breath comes in shallow pants as his hands travel the length of my lower legs, gliding over my knees.

He grasps the hem of my skirt and slowly pushes it up my thighs. “It’s all I can think about.”

It’s all I can think about too. I don’t say the words, but he can see them in me, as though I’m projecting them into the space between us. His eyes are still fused to mine as he drags my skirt higher and higher until it reaches my hips. “Will you let me have just one taste?”

“No,” I say, and he goes as still as marble.

There’s relief in knowing he will immediately stop without any hesitation.

The earnest questions and concerns burn so brightly in his eyes that I nearly laugh.

I might love his words and all the fantasies they evoke.

But I love antagonizing him even more, perhaps because I know that he’ll never stop meeting whatever gauntlet I throw down.

The wisp of fear that he’s crossed a line still lingers in his eyes until I lean a little closer with a devilish grin.

“Not just one taste. I’m not some fucking snack. ”

I spread my legs wider. A ravenous shadow descends across Nolan’s face.

“If you start, you’re going to finish your fucking meal.”