matter how hard you try.”
She retreats a step. “You don’t understand.”
“You’re right. I can’t imagine how hard it is to lose her. You left Greece thinking the nightmare would end, only to have it follow.” I inch closer as she backtracks. “And you’re too scared to let down your guard to start healing. You’re clinging to what you know—the sterility, the anger. You think you need to act the same way you did with Luther in an effort to protect yourself. To fight when you should crumple.”
Her lips part as if in shock before a mask of annoyance settles into place. “Stop.”
“I’m sorry, shorty, but I can’t. It’s time for this to sink in. For you to acknowledge what you went through. For you to break down the walls you’ve built out of fear. There’s no peace in denial.”
“There’s no peace?” she asks. “What peace could I possibly obtain, Luca? What peace have I ever had?”
“Peace is on the other side of acceptance. You need to face what’s happened.”
“I said, ‘stop.’” She makes for the door.
I follow, unable to let this go. “We’re not running anymore. Maybe it was suicide. Maybe it was an accident. It doesn’t change the fact she’s gone.”
“Stop.” She plants her feet and swings around to shove at my chest. “Stop it.” Her eyes blink with unshed tears. “Just stop.”
Her agony punches into me, my words injuring us both. But she’s so close. The slightest crack forms in her defenses. “Luther’s not here anymore. You don’t have to keep fighting. Abi’s dead, shorty. It’s time to grieve.”
The tears build, her dark eyes an endless pool of heartache bursting to break free. She shoves me again and again, harder and harder.
“She’s not suffering anymore. She’s free.” I snatch her wrists. Tight. They tremor under my grasp.
Those eyes flare, her panic and fear slam into me.
But I can’t let her go.
After all the days of sitting on my ass and letting her find her own way, it’s clear I should’ve acted differently. She needs to be pushed to face reality. I feel it deep down in my bones. She can’t move on until she acknowledges her past. Until she lets go of the hold Luther had on her.
“You’re safe,” I murmur. “He’s not here anymore. He can’t hurt you.”
“Don’t do this.” She thrashes, attempting to break my hold. “Let me go.”
I pull her into my chest, releasing her wrists to wrap my arms around her back. “I’m not hurting you. I never will.” I cage her against me as she bucks and pushes, doing her best to escape.
“Stop,” she screams. Her loose hair whips my face. Her knee jabs me in the thigh.
She’s a wild cat. Sharp movements. Feral ferocity.
I hope I’m not fucking this up.
No.
This is the right thing to do.
The only thing.
I hold tighter, increasing her struggle. “I’ve got you.”
“You’re a monster,” she shrieks, wiggling one arm free. She thumps my chest. Slaps my face. Scratches my cheek.
“No, he was—Luther.” I take her fury, not letting her hatred penetrate. “He hurt you. He was the monster. I’d never raise a hand to you, Penny. I’d never do the things he did. You’re safe now. I’ve got you.”
She has to let it all out. Every ounce of the pain and suffering. I won’t let her go through another day clinging to her abuse.
“Let me have your worst.” I loosen my arms, allowing her space to whack harder into me.
“Let me go,” she wails, raising her face, her mouth a breath from mine. So pretty. So tortured. “Get your fucking hands off me.”
“No.”
She strengthens her fight. Beating. Clawing. Bashing. “You fucking bastard.” The first tear escapes, the glistening path trekking down her cheek like a break in the most arid drought. “I hate you.”
“Hate me all you like. I’m not letting you go until you get this out of your system.”
“I can’t get it out of my system,” she screams. “This is me. This is who I am.”
“No, Pen, this is who you needed to be when you were around him. You needed to fight. You needed to attack and protect. You don’t need to do that now. Not anymore.”
“Let me go.” She uses both forearms to push at my chest, her unyielding strength fucking admirable. “Please, let me go.”
“I will, baby. I promise. Once you give in.”
“I can’t.” More tears escape, both eyes drenched in sorrow. She’s still fighting, still feral. But her aggression tapers. Her hits lose their ferocity. The clawing and scratching packs less of