The Darkest Part (Living Heartwood 1)

I take a step backward, keeping my eyes locked on Holden’s.

“Sam,” he says, my name a warning.

I take a shuddering breath at my next admission. “I won’t be alone.” Then I step backward again, gradually putting distance between us.

Holden unlaces his arms as his face pulls together in a confused expression. But he doesn’t ask. Which I’m thankful for. Instead, he says, “Don’t take another step.”

My foot halts mid-step, hovering above the concrete. “I have to go. And I don’t want you to come.” When my foot hits the ground, I turn and run. I hear him curse.

I’m almost to the train doors when his arms wrap around my waist. He pulls me to a stop, securing my arms against my sides. “Don’t make a scene,” he whispers harshly, taking deep breaths between his words.

A chill slides down my back, replacing the heat from his body. I spot a security guard near the ticket booth and think about screaming. Kicking. Making the exact scene he warned me not to make.

But a spark of clarity bursts through my panic. I can’t chance being found out. And they’ll no doubt want the details as to why I’m fighting with my dead boyfriend’s brother in the middle of the train station. Would Holden out me?

“Dammit,” I grit out.

I watch the train pull away as Holden’s arms hold me tight. The fight leaves my body, and I go limp with defeat. He waits until the train has completely left the station before he loosens his arms, then he backs away.

“I couldn’t let you endanger yourself,” he says, low, his deep baritone grating against my nerves.

Straightening my T-shirt, I fill my lungs with foul air, then turn and walk out of the station. I can hear him following behind me, but I don’t look back.

“Where are you going?” he asks as

he matches my steps, moving beside me.

I blow a puff of air through my lips, lifting my bangs from my forehead. “Away from you.”

“You’re giving up? I don’t remember you being a quitter.”

Anger seizes my steps for a second, but then I start again, walking faster. “Who said I’m quitting?” I say. “And you never knew me. Don’t pretend like you did.”

He doesn’t respond, and I’m tempted to look over, to see if my words have any effect on him. But I don’t know what I’d do with that knowledge either way. I keep my gaze straight ahead.

“Just tell me.”

I huff. “I’m going to get my car, I guess.” I stop near the crosswalk, look around. Savannah isn’t a big city. I can’t just hail a cab, so I dig out my phone to call the same cab service I used earlier to pick me up.

Holden throws his hands up and groans. “God, you’re so stubborn.”

My thumb scrolls through the recently called numbers. With a weighted heart, I bypass the missed calls from my mom. I put my phone on silent mode so I wouldn’t have to deal with that anxiety . . . yet.

“You’ll break into a freakin’ crypt with me, but you won’t ride in the cab of my truck.” He crosses his arms over his broad chest. “Is being around me really that bad? Do I smell?”

I almost laugh. I know he’s trying to lighten the mood, but I’m too pissed off for that. And the fact is, he actually smells really good. Like crisp fall air and his woodsy cologne. “Go away, Holden. You’re not getting your way.” As I step off the curb, my eyes still glued to my phone screen, I hear a blaring horn and then a screech. Startled, I freeze.

I’m yanked back as Holden pulls me off the road and out of the path of an oncoming car.

“Shit, Sam.” His arms once again encircle me, and I can feel his rapid heartbeat against my back. My own heart is in my throat. “That’s it.”

I yelp as he picks me up. “What the—? Put me down!”

“Shut. Up.”

I bite my lip. I know he’s pissed. I’m pissed at myself. Not even able to process what almost happened—just like Tyler.

Holden doesn’t throw me over his shoulder like he previously threatened, but carries me toward the parking lot cradled in his arms, like Douchebag Superman. He shakes his head. “So fucking stubborn.”