He has to realize that. He has tohearit.
Newfound conviction shoots up my spine. Fires up my neurons.
My body kicks into gear, and I tear my hands from his.
Alaric goes still for half a second.
It’s enough. I wrench the gag off and spit the tie out of my mouth.
“You’re a hero, can’t you see that?” My voice is raw. My throat burns. I don’t care. I’ll give him my last breath if that’s what it takes to reach him. “You’re putting down monsters. You help your patients. You’re an angel. God-fucking-sent. What’s there to hate?”
“Lilith.” That’s the first and last warning I get before he tries to catch me. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Yes, I do.” I’m clumsy as I get up from the couch. Stumbling as I create distance between us. Tears streak my cheeks the farther I get away from him. All I want is to throw my hands around this idiot. “Listen to me. I’ve known about your storage unit for a while.”
His eyes narrow by an increment.
He’s actually listening.
“Surprise.” I fail to inject humor into the word. Dammit. “I’m the screwed-up one in our relationship. I’ve learned everything there is to know about you, minus the notebook, because I’ve been stalking you.”
“Stalking me?” He cocks an eyebrow as he gets up from the sofa.
“Yes. That’s why I work at the cafeteria. It’s fun, sure, but?—”
The backs of my knees hit his loveseat. I slip away from it, walking back, back, back.
Alaric is almost there.
Not yet.
“I returned to New York foryou.”
His jaw slackens, mouth parting.
Then—
“It makes sense, actually.” He blinks, and the confusion vanishes from his eyes. “I was wrong to say I didn’t believe in fate. I do now. As much as I believe in science. It’s the only explanation for this. For us crossing paths when we did,so you could find your way back to me when you were meant to.”
Though his gait is long and he could catch me easily, Alaric takes his time. I suspect it’s because he wants to hear me out.
If he does, if he’s willing to listen, there’s hope that this misunderstanding will end as soon as…
Now.
Driven to get it over with, I decide to purge every single fucked-up thing I’ve done over the past month.
“It gets worse.” My voice is high-pitched, panicked. I clear my throat and add, “And this next part has nothing to do with fate.”
He quirks an eyebrow.
“I broke into your locker. Stole your boxers.”
That earns me a possessive look before this huge man goes back to stalking toward me.
No. He can’t do it. Can’t stop me.
I’m not done.