I beat back panic at our conspicuous position. The boundary walls are large, but the neighbors’ houses’ are far bigger. What if we’re being watched? An itch of unease skates along my arms. “Where are Cole and Hunter?”
“Decker and Hunt kept driving once we reached the gates. They need to help escort everyone here. And Torian went to park around back in the garage. He’ll let us in through the front door in a minute.”
I nod, only slightly appeased.
My arms break out in goose bumps beneath my sweater. All my hairs stand on end. It’s as if I’m in the sights of a well-trained assassin and any sudden movement will end my life.
“You can wait at the front door.” Luca jerks his chin toward the house. “I’ll get our stuff.”
I don’t listen. Instead I follow him to the trunk and help to carry my paper bags while he hauls a heavy duffle. It’s instinctive to remain by his side, and I suppose it shouldn’t be. Not when walls are crashing down around me. I need to find a way to make it on my own. Without reliance.
By the time we reach the front double doors, Cole is there to let us inside.
He leads us down a wide hall, the white tiles immaculate, the walls filled with artwork. It’s too similar to Luther’s Grecian home. My prison. This place is another picture-perfect house, haunted by criminal activity.
“Separate rooms?” Cole stops before a closed door. “Or together?”
“Separate,” I murmur, as Luca says, “Together.”
Cole raises a brow. “I’ll leave you two to come to a decision. Make yourselves at home. But once everyone arrives we need to have a meeting. Don’t keep me waiting.” He continues down the long hall, back straight, stride confident, and opens another door to disappear inside.
Luca doesn’t speak. He stands there, staring where Cole had once been, his jaw tense, his hand wrapped tight around the duffle strap.
“Separate rooms would be better.” I break the silence.
“You’re sick of sleeping with me already?” He makes for the door in front of me, flings it wide and stalks inside.
“That’s not it.” I remain in the hall, unwilling to follow. “You said my brother will be here. I don’t want him seeing us together.”
“Fuck your brother,” he grates from inside the room. “I’ll tell him I’m sleeping on the floor. I’m not letting you out of my sight.”
I cling to my bags, the paper crinkling under my tightening grip. “No, it’s best if I stay somewhere else.”
He dumps his duffle at the foot of the bed and returns to the doorway, his shoulders stiff. “I get it; you’re angry at me. You don’t trust me anymore. But distancing yourself isn’t going to help.”
“You’re the one who doesn’t trust me, Luc. You don’t believe me.”
He steps closer, not stopping until his face is inches from mine. “No, I don’t want to believe you. There’s a difference.”
“It sounds the same to me.”
“Well, it’s not. I believe that you think Robert is still alive. And that he was the shooter last night. But I don’t want to believe it because that means I fucked up. Not just a little bit, but a whole damn lot. Believing you’re right means I risked your life and I’m not sure I can handle that.”
“How do you think I feel? You made me believe in fairy tales. You convinced me I was safe. Now I don’t know what’s real and what isn’t. I need to step back and protect myself. On my own.”
He reaches for my bags, drags both from my arms to steal them inside. “Everything between us is real.” He speaks over his shoulder. “So whatever you need to figure out, you can do it in here.”
I sigh and trudge after him, stopping at the threshold. “You can’t blame me for questioning my safety, Luc.”
He dumps my bags on top of a dark wood dresser, then turns to me. “But you’re not just questioning your safety. You’re questioning me. You’re questioning all the things I’ve done to protect you. All the time we’ve spent together. All the things that happened over the past weeks. I’m only asking for you to give me a chance to redeem myself.”
I slump against the doorjamb and cross my arms over my chest. “You don’t need to redeem anything. I just need space.”
“I call bullshit. Last night you pleaded to get in my bed. Now you’re pushing me away because I fucked up.”
“No, I’m pushing you away because you made it