I love him. So tell me, D. Do you love me?”
“Blue….” The anguish in his voice is staggering, but I don’t let him off the hook.
“Answer the question,” I push.
“Of course, I fucking love you. I love your addiction to shitty movies. I love your blue hair that’s always a mess. I love the way you block people out when you don’t want to hear what they have to say and the way you get up every single morning even when you’d rather hide under the covers. Because you’re brave. You’re beautiful. And you’re all I’ve ever wanted.”
“Let me ask you this, Diece. Do you remember when we were at Matteo’s estate? When you told me that you weren’t keeping me as your prisoner? That I could choose what I wanted? If I wanted to stay or not?”
“Yeah.”
“Then let me make my choice. I want to stay. I want you. I love you. I choose you. I don’t want a sappy Hallmark guy even if he was real. I want raw. I want you,” I reiterate with tears in my eyes. “So, let me ask you this again. Why the hell are you all the way across the room when I just want you to hold me?”
I hold my breath and watch his thoughts flash across his face like a slideshow. But there isn’t any indecision. Just vulnerability. It doesn’t belong on such a sexy, confident man. But maybe that’s why I love him. Why he’s captured my thoughts, my body, and my heart. Because he can be vulnerable with me. The same way I’ve learned to open myself with him.
“Please?” I whisper.
He breaks and gives in, closing the distance between us with a few strides before wrapping his arms around me.
“I love you, Blue.”
“Love you too, D.”
37
Q
“You sure you’re ready?” Diece asks. The shed is looming in front of us like the never-ending hallway from The Shining, but I somehow manage to take another step toward it. When a pebble bounces off my sneaker and skids across the cobblestone path, my gaze follows it.
I don’t know if I’m strong enough to do this.
With our hands tangled together, he tugs me back a few steps. “Q?”
I blink. “What?”
“Are you sure you’re ready?”
“I don’t think I’ll ever be ready to face him again,” I mutter to myself.
“You don’t have to do this.”
“I know.”
“We can wait until you’re ready—”
“I’m ready to put him in my past,” I return before glancing toward the looming shed. “Which means I need to look him in the eye one more time.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah.” I gulp, then turn back to him. “I’m sure.”
His finger brushes beneath my chin, lifting it a few inches before his spine curves down, and he presses a soft kiss to my parted lips. “You can do this.”
“I’m scared,” I whisper, feeling like a small child.
“It’s okay to be scared.”
“You’re never scared,” I counter.
“Bullshit.” He laughs. “I was terrified when you went missing.”
Missing.
It feels like a lifetime ago, but my bumps and bruises prove otherwise.
Licking my lips, I ask, “Then what did you do?”
“I used that fear to push me forward instead of letting it paralyze me.”
Being paralyzed has always been my first reaction. It was the one I clung to. But D’s right. Sometimes, we have to fight our natural instincts and push past them, searching for the correct response and repeating the behavior over and over again until it becomes second nature.
Just like in the gym when we’d practice Jiu-Jitsu. When I’d want to pull away from my opponent instead of bringing him closer to get what I want. And even though I wasn’t able to escape Sei without D’s help, I was able to stall him until D could rescue me by bringing Sei closer. By playing his game and tricking him into letting me out of those handcuffs. Because if I hadn’t, I’d have more than bruises on my face and arms. And healing from that particular form of abuse was hard enough the first time.
Sometimes, we have to pick the harder route because we know it’ll pay off in the end. And if I let my fear paralyze me, I’ll regret it for the rest of my life.
“Then I guess that’s what I’m going to do too. Come on.”
With my head held high, I push the heavy door of the shed open. Déjà vu hits me square in the chest as I take in the bare space. In the center of the room, there’s a chair with a drain