Ride Wild (Raven Riders 3)

“I don’t know,” he said, his tone gruff, but his gaze vulnerable. “Like honesty. Like certainty. Like forever.”

Cora’s heart beat harder. After thinking about Bosco all day, she’d been contemplating two of those herself. But honesty . . . honesty had her thinking about—and considering for the first time—the possibility of finally, finally sharing more of herself. Sharing all of herself. Including those parts she’d been trying so damn hard to hide. Given what Kim had done, it didn’t surprise Cora that Slider would value the truth, and that meant she owed him hers. At least, she did if he was someone she wanted in her life . . .

And, God, she did.

She swallowed hard. “There’s no such thing as certainty, Slider. But forever definitely exists for every single one of us. Love doesn’t end because someone dies. It stays with us in memories and stories and smells and sounds that are connected to other times and places. Just because those things are painful doesn’t mean forever doesn’t exist.”

Under her hand, his heart beat harder. He leaned closer, and now she could feel the heat of him. “And honesty?”

Cora’s fight-or-flight response threatened to engage. The room spun a little and her chest went tight. No matter how much she wanted to give him what he wanted—her honesty—it was still hard to let go of a secret she’d never told another soul. One she knew Slider wanted to know. And now he was asking. She didn’t have any advice for him on wanting honesty, but maybe . . . maybe she could show it to him. “My hair was longer when Haven and I first ran away from Georgia. Down to the middle of my back.”

He frowned, and his gaze flicked to her shoulder-length waves. “Didn’t know that.”

“Our third night on the road, I borrowed a pair of scissors from a girl at the cash register at a truck stop and went into the bathroom and chopped it off to my shoulders.” The words spilled out in a rush, because adrenaline was making her jumpy, nervous, restless. She glanced at the open doorway, but the boys were holed up in their rooms.

“Go on,” he said, as if he understood something important was happening.

“You see . . .” Forcing out the words was drawing her back there, back into that dark room. “That . . . that was how . . .”

“Cora—”

She fisted her hand in the cotton of his black T-shirt. “Don’t. I’m giving you this.” She met his tortured gaze. “I need to.”

A single nod. “Tell me.”

“My long hair . . . that was how he grabbed me.”

For being so pale, Slider’s eyes were absolutely on fire. Questions swam in his gaze. His muscles braced with the need to act. His jaw was tight with restraint.

And, God, she appreciated that. She appreciated it so much. Cora could tell he was holding back from reacting, from talking, from trying to make it better so she could get this out.

Now that she was talking, she couldn’t stop the words, and they spilled free almost mechanically, faster and faster. “I got away from him when he woke me up on the couch. Then he chased me and backed me into my room, but when I turned to run through to my bathroom, he caught me by the ponytail. Pushed me facedown onto my bed. Got on top of me and pulled down my pajamas. His breath sm-smelled of b-beer . . .”

A tear she hadn’t even been aware of spilled over onto her cheek, then another. She was trembling. And hot. Sweat trickled down her back. The scent of beer was suffocating in her nose. The memory of it smelled as real as if a bottle was in her hand.

“After, I came up with a plan for both me and Haven, and we ran away in the middle of the night three days later.”

“Who, Cora?” Slider asked, his voice like it had been scoured with sandpaper.

She lifted her gaze to his. “M-my f-father.”

It was his eyes going glassy that made her crack. Just cracked her wide open. Long-suppressed agony ripped out of her.

“Can I hold you now?” he asked, even as she curled against him. “Please, sweetheart, can I hold you?”

All she could do was nod, and then his arms were around her so damn tightly that he was all that held her together. He swept her into his arms and cradled her against his chest as he carried her . . . somewhere. He kicked a door shut with one foot, and then he was sinking down and holding her to him even though she was a sobbing wreck.

And though memories threatened to pull her down like weights in dark waters, Cora Campbell felt safer than she’d ever felt in her whole damn life.