I cursed myself as I got in the truck and followed her down the drive to a small, empty lot. I sat for a minute watching her where she stood bathed in my headlights once more. Dressed as she was in her pure white coat, she resembled an angel. An angel I’d been kissing only minutes earlier. An angel I was thinking of in the most impure way possible.

Cutting the lights and darkening my view, I got out and came around to where she was standing.

“Do your parents know where you are?”

The mischievous smile she aimed my way let me know she was onto me, and there was no way she was going to let me forget what’d just happened. Not when she finally had me where she wanted me.

“Do yours?”

“Addison.”

“Grayson,” she countered and held out her hand. “Come with me. I want you to know who I am.”

“I do know you, a little too well.”

Not in the least bit deterred, she wrapped her fingers around mine, and I followed her despite my reservations.

“I want you to know more of me. I want you to understand.”

I felt her touch like a live wire as it traveled up my arm, shocking me in its wake.

“Okay. But I’m driving you home after. You’re not walking alone at this hour.”

With her hand clasped in mine and my cock stiffening at being this close, I thought it completely hypocritical of me to be concerned about her safety—especially with what I was thinking.

“Are you worried something will happen to me?”

I nodded. “You shouldn’t be walking around this late. Anything could happen.”

“Anything?”

She didn’t let up for a second. Always pushing me and leading me down a road I know I shouldn’t be on.

“Okay,” she drawled. “You’re no fun.”

It was an odd comment to make while standing in a cemetery, but before I could remark on it, she tugged me off the path and onto the grass.

“This way.”

I had two choices—let go of her and demand she get back in the truck. Or follow her...again. Like the fool that I was, I followed.

She led me through several rows of tombstones with tall flowers sprouted alongside, almost as though the cemetery had been built in a field of—

“What are these flowers?” I asked, pulling on her to stop.

“Monkshood. Have you heard of them?”

I had heard of them. They were a cult classic but usually in herb form, not as a flower. “Yes, it’s Wolf’s Bane. You do know how poisonous these are, right?”

“Yes, I know. There are signs. See?” she replied, as if we were discussing the color of the sky.

“Don’t you think you should have mentioned that? This is serious shit, Addison. You shouldn’t be here, especially at night. Jesus. Come on, let’s go.”

She placed a hand on my chest and slid it up my shoulder and into my loose hair as she came up on her tiptoes. With her lips hovering over mine, she whispered, “They are also known as the queen of poisons. Did you know that?”

I didn’t, but being in a cemetery with poisonous fucking flowers wasn’t what I called a good time.

“Stop fucking around. This isn’t funny.”

“Are you planning to bend down and pick the flowers?” I could feel her lips curving into a grin against my own.

Considering the situation and what we were discussing, she sounded somewhat crazed. I found myself reaching for something to ground me. The fact that it was her waist was of no consequence as I gripped her tight.

“What kind of game are you playing?” I demanded, not realizing until then that was what I was feeling—played.

“No game,” she breathed out then licked my lip, causing me to yank my head back.

“The fuck you’re not.”

Her fingers massaged my head as she cocked hers to the side. “I told you.”

“Your brother?”

Nodding, she answered, “Yes…Daniel.”

“What happened to him?” I asked.

Without flinching, she replied, “I killed him.”

* * *

The hold Grayson had on my waist was so tight I would have a bruise for sure, and the way his mouth fell open at my admission made me wonder what was going through his mind.

I released his hair and touched his hand.

“Come,” I invited. “Don’t touch the flowers.”

He didn’t answer, but his fingers took mine, and I led him farther across the dewy grass. When we arrived at the far back corner, I stopped in front of the tombstone that had Daniel’s name inscribed on it.

Without looking at the man beside me, I explained, “Every Saturday I come here, hoping this is some kind of nightmare. One where I’ll walk through those gates, and this won’t be here. That all I’ll see is a field. A field that’s full of these poisonous flowers. It would be better than this alternative. Right?”

That was when I faced him.

Grayson was tall. I knew he was, but in that moment, I really took notice. His shoulders were broad and represented strength. To me, he was safe, and the entire time I was with him, I had not heard—I lifted my wrist and brought it to my ear.

“Why do you do that?” he asked gently.

Lowering my arm, happy that the watch was still working, I looked back to where Daniel lay buried beneath the earth.

“Because I was late.”

The silence that stretched between us was complicated for so many reasons, and even though I wanted to explain, I wasn’t sure I could. I’d never been able to before, not even to Doc, who my mom had been making me visit at least once a week for the past two years.

“What were you late for?” he asked, seeming to understand that since I couldn’t describe my obsession, it was best just to ask why I had it.

“Who, not what.” I felt a tear slip from my eye and trail down my face. “I was too late for him.”

* * *

Present…

“Tell me, Addison, what does this picture mean to you?”

I look at the photograph Doc is holding in front of me. It’s a picture of a beautiful purple flower. A flower shaped like a monk’s hood.

I remain silent.

“Nothing?”

My eyes shift to his. The waiting game? Oh, I can wait.

Tick, tick, tock.

He turns the picture around and examines it.

“It’s a photo of a Monkshood flower,” he says, but he knows I’m already aware of that. “It’s very pretty, don’t you think?”

Bait me. That’s what he’s trying to do. He will fail.

“I didn’t know they grew here in Denver, but they do.”

I arch my brow, and he knows me well enough that he continues.

“People often do stupid things when it comes to something pretty…even when they know better.” He pauses and sits forward, giving me the photograph. As my fingers touch it, he asks, “Did Grayson?”

For a split second, I wish I could tell him everything, but I have no answer. Not the one he wants. He wants me to ask for help, but even if I could, I wouldn’t.

I don’t need protecting.

Sitting back in my seat, I trace the shape of the flower with the tip of my finger and remind myself that he is gone, and nothing will change that. All I have to do is…forget I ever knew him.

Raising my head, I pin Doc with a vacant stare and answer his question.

“No. Akoviton.”

Doc’s eyes remain on me. “I don’t understand.”

“Without struggle.”

I can see his mind working as he asks, “Who? Grayson went without struggle?”

A sly smile stretches my lips. He thinks I’m giving him something. I’m giving him nothing.

“This flower, Aconitum, comes from the Greek word akoviton, which means…without struggle.”

He says nothing as he leans back in his chair. I can tell he is trying to decide if there is more to my statement than what’s on the surface.

Let him wonder. Let him think.

This session’s over as far as I’m concerned.

Tick, tick, tock.

* * *

Past…

“Come on, Addison. Let me take you home.”

I could tell she had gone somewhere in her head because she was no longer talking as she stood beside me. She was counting.

One, two, three. One, two, three.

Over and over she repeated the numbers, and the instinct to wrap her in my arms now came from concern. She was visibly upset, and I wasn’t sure if my touch would help to calm her or cause further distress.

“Addison?” I coaxed.

Her hair shifted softly in the breeze, and when those blue eyes of hers found me, I thought she appeared as perfect as the first time I’d met her.

The perfection, however, was marred. Not in a horrible disfigured way but on a deep subconscious level. She searched my face, for what I wasn’t sure, and continued to count—one, two, three—in a way that I would never stop hearing.

This girl was damaged. Why hadn’t I seen that?

She was broken, and some part of me wanted to fix her.

I took her hand, gently squeezing her fingers, and with that small touch, the counting stopped.

“Let’s go. You can tell me more on the way,” I said, walking us back in the direction we’d come.

She was silent the entire way.

Like someone lost, she let me lead her, and I couldn’t stop myself from wondering what would’ve happened if she’d trusted the wrong person?

Or had she?

I unlocked the doors and shook off the thought. Before she climbed into the cab, into the small space I would soon lock myself into beside her, she said so softly I almost missed it, “You make it go away.”