Your Fault (Culpable Book 2)

I looked at the buildings in front of me. Sometimes, being up that high was intoxicating; at other times, it made me feel superior, looking down on people without them knowing it, seeing the traffic, the last rays of the sun… I’d never had a problem with heights. Distance, though…that was something I hated. I’d been thinking for a long time, trying to figure out why so often it was so hard to get the things you wanted. Lots of people could criticize me for wondering about that, since I didn’t lack for anything, but that wasn’t true: one thing, or one person, had caught me in her spell, and I didn’t know how to get her to stay by my side no matter what happened.

I hadn’t expected her to make that face when she saw the tattoo. I didn’t think she’d be overjoyed about it, necessarily, but I sure as hell never imagined it could scare her. Fear never entered into my thoughts or plans—getting frightened was a feeling I didn’t really know.

Noah had to live with fear. She’d told me that, and there was nothing I could do about it. If I was around, my presence calmed her demons, and she could sleep without having nightmares, but that didn’t mean she was all right. And I didn’t want her demons to become mine, too, because every person has limits. I certainly did, even if they were being redefined by that person I couldn’t get enough of.

I wanted to know all of her, and when I thought I finally had, she would surprise me with something I didn’t know how to take. And that sent me straight back to square one.

What if one day it turns into a bad memory, a ghost that’s chasing you down? You’ll regret it, and you’ll hate me because it will remind you of me even when you don’t want it to…

How could she say that to me? Was there any doubt still about the way I felt about her? Was it not obvious that my whole world revolved around her?

I looked at the contract I had received that morning. We had won the Rogers case. I, a novice, had saved what everyone swore was a lost cause. Jenkins had sent Sophie and me out there to lose so he could show we weren’t ready for the big time… He’d defended his post with everything he had, but this time, the strategy had backfired.

And there, in my hands, I had a piece of paper with the words I’d always wanted to read on it…a two-year contract as an associate attorney at a firm that had nothing to do with my father, in New York, with my apartment paid for and a salary of 215,000 a year, negotiable after the trial period. It was a one-of-a-kind opportunity and would enable me to start out on my own, thanks to my own merits, without Dad helping me out.

And there I saw it again…that pretty face: the face I’d kill and die for. Noah.

I picked the contract up and slid it into a drawer. There was nothing more to think about.