Page 144 of Darling Venom
And just like that, the air stuck in my lungs escaped in a rush.
I recognized the low, gravelly voice immediately.
Tate.
With the transfer of Darling Venom into my care and the Wizard of Oz editions into the library’s, we were officially done. Finished. No reason to see each other or talk to one another ever again.
So, what was he doing here?
And how did he know I’d be here?
I didn’t ask any of those questions.
Butterflies filled my chest up to my neck, flipping ferociously. I reclined against the shelf opposite from the one we shared, tucking my hands behind my back.
“This is not a confession booth.” It came out shakier than I would’ve liked. I swallowed, scratching the scar at my wrist.
“Could’ve fooled me.”
I heard the smirk in his voice, and I was done for.
Every single effort I’d made not to think about him evaporated. The line between wanting to save him and wanting to kiss him—and yes, I realized bitterly, I did very much want to kiss him right now—blurred.
He was right.
It did feel like a confession booth with the divider between us, of books that were going to hold this conversation secret forever.
My fingertips tingled.
“Let’s hear it then,” I
whispered.
“I hate reading.”
His words jarred me.
My eyes widened. “You mean… like, in general, or…?”
“Books. Poems. Songs. Fucking IKEA manuals. Reading’s not my jam. Never was. I think I’m allergic, thanks to Sperm Donor dearest.”
I wished he’d stop calling Terry that.
I wished he’d just be grateful his dad was still alive.
He continued, relentless. “It’s the William Ford effect. Why the hell would I try my luck at something my father mastered in a way the entire world is going to remember? So just in case, I never read for fun. To extinguish the risk of wanting to write myself.”
I started walking along the aisle again once my heartbeat resembled its normal pace. So did Tate. I tested the waters, running my fingers through the books between us as I passed them. He did the same.
“Why are you telling me this?” My voice was thick and cracked and not mine.
“Kellan hated that I wasn’t #TeamTerry. He adored his father so much, the fact that I wasn’t on board made him resent me. The more I tried to separate them to save Kellan, the more he loathed me, and the more Terry did, too. By the time Kellan took matters into his own hands, no one in the Marchetti family could stand my face.”
His fingers brushed mine suddenly.
I sucked in a breath.
Whoa.
