“I don’t know anything. I’m not a loose end, okay? I won’t say anything to anyone. I haven’t told a soul, Dom. I swear.”
“Jesus,” he says, scrubbing his face with his hand, his expression turning sick with worry. “What have we done to you?”
I swallow. “I just want to leave now.” I do my best to control the shake in my voice as a tear spills over. “C-can I please just go home?”
He studies my expression, and nothing but hurt shines in his eyes when he steps toward me, and I flinch.
“Did he tell you to come here?”
This time he’s the one who flinches. “Please tell me you don’t think that of me. I could never hurt you.”
“I don’t know what to think anymore.” I cup my mouth holding in my sob. “I don’t know what to believe.”
“Jesus Christ, I think this hurts more than coming home to find you with him,” he hangs his head before bringing his eyes to mine. “Cecelia. I would never, ever, fucking hurt you. Not for anything or anyone or any reason.” He takes a step forward. “Come on, baby, look at me.”
I shake my head.
“Damnit, Cecelia, look at me. Right now.”
I lift my eyes to his.
“See me. It’s me.”
My heart seizes when he takes another step forward, and another and I stop my retreat, his name bursting from my lips in an anguished cry just as he pulls me into his arms. We clutch each other as my fear subsides, and I realize just how far I’ve fallen down the rabbit hole.
“Goddamnit,” he whispers, pulling me tightly to him, his voice riddled with ache, “I’m so sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. Have we twisted things so much?”
I clutch him to me, pressing my face into his neck as he covers me with his hands running them along my back and down my arms. “What have we done to you?” His voice is full of emotion as he pulls me tighter to him, and I inhale his faint but familiar scent.
“I just…don’t know what to believe anymore.”
“We fucked up so bad with you, believe that.”
He pulls away and stares down at me, his eyes searching mine, his tone desperate. “Tell me you know deep down we aren’t those guys?”
I shake my head, unable to form words.
“Cee, that’s not us.”
“Last night, I was drugged and tattooed. Are you sure you’re not those guys?”
“Jesus,” he cups the back of his neck, “you’re right. I can’t blame you for thinking the worst, can I?”
He exhales a breath and pulls out his burner phone from his jeans before sitting at the edge of my bed. Tension begins to brew as he looks over at me.
“Ten months,” he says as I study him just as carefully, feeling every single day of the space those months put between us. “We should have told you we were coming back. I wanted to. Sean wanted to keep to the deal we made with him to prove Tobias wrong. He didn’t think…” He exhales a loaded breath, “I guess it doesn’t matter now.”
I lower my eyes to the carpet as he clasps his hands between his knees. A long silence passes before he speaks up.
“He’s right, you know. My brother spoke the truth. He’s spent half his life setting things up, always in the background, doing everything he could to fucking get this thing together. To make sure we were taken care of.” I look him over and see the exhaustion in his posture, in his eyes. “He was telling the truth.”
“I’m not sure you know the meaning of that word. That any of you do.”
“You wanted in,” he reminds me. “This is in.”
“Not this way,” I counter. “And not at this cost.”
“I told you more than once you didn’t want the truth. Why do you think I tried so hard to push you away at first?” One side of his mouth lifts. “You were so fucking perfect.” His eyes cloud with memory. “Standing there in my yard that day, and after…” he shakes his head. “I wanted to hate you. I tried so hard to hate you.”
“Didn’t notice.”
We share a sad smile.
“We always knew the truth would be the end. We always knew that keeping you in the dark was the only real way to keep you. You were amongst liars, thieves, and killers,” he says softly, “way too fucking good for any of it, and I think we clung to you because you represented everything we wanted to