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The boy who wants forgiveness…
Haunted by the train accident his father instigated, college freshman Krister Ledoux is obsessed with finding the person sending him cryptic hate mail. He knows it’s one of them—a family member of one of the accident victims, and he’s willing to go to hell and back to find out which one.
The girl he can’t forget…
She was a stranger who kissed him in the middle of the train station, and now she’s the girl who pleads with her eyes for Krister to be the distraction she’s so desperate for. Krister doesn’t know what it is about her, why he’s sucked into playing Cambria’s game… All he knows is that when he’s with her, he isn’t consumed with thoughts of the crash.
The collision that can’t be avoided…
Cambria doesn’t know who Krister is—that he’s the son of the town’s most infamous killer, and he knows if his true identity surfaces he’ll lose her forever. However secrets can’t stay buried forever, and now Krister must fight to prove that their bone-deep connection is far more powerful than the hatred she now has toward him.
She stares at me, tracing her finger over my face, my eyebrows, the two-day-old stubble on my jaw. I catch her hand and kiss her knuckles, then wrist. “It’s just…” Jesus, how do I say this? “My life’s a little complicated right now, and I’m trying not to drag you into the middle of it.” The look she gives me is one I’m starting to recognize. The one that makes it seem like she understands there’s something more I want to tell her, but can’t. Or don’t know how. “On top of that…I’m a dickhead. And being with me will ultimately result in me hurting you, and I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Actually…” She lowers my palm to her thigh, narrowing her gaze onto mine. “…you being concerned about hurting me is very non-dickhead-ish of you.” Little by little, she slides my hand up her leg and around her ass. “Besides, what if I want to be in the middle of it?”
I slam my eyes shut, my fingers burning at the touch of her. She doesn’t know what she’s asking for. Being with me—being constantly reminded of her dead mother—will slowly but surely kill her inside. And I’m not a murderer like my father.
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