I should’ve been made aware of this. Fuck, Rocco. My wife could be in danger and you’re keepin’ secrets.”
“She has people watchin’ her,” I vow.
He has to know that Dominic would never leave Codi unprotected. That I would never leave him unprotected.
Arms outstretched, he looks at me with disgust. “I don’t give a fuckin’ shit about people. I keep her safe. Me. Her fucking husband. Her security ain’t your responsibility.”
With that he slams the door, exiting the loft with the fight of a man whose family is at risk.
Fuck.
It’s not lost on me that we’re back here again. Me forcing my brother into a situation he wants no part in. One that threatens the lives of those he holds most dear.
“That was awkward.”
I startle at Blake’s voice, watching her closely to determine how much she actually heard.
She’s good though. Not just a closed book. She’s one that’s padlocked shut and twisted up in chains, not letting a single thought escape from her eyes.
“You know, Jesse and I lived with one unhinged psycho for too long. One hellbent on making everyone pay for his stupid mistakes over and over again.”
I take the insult in her words without judgment.
“We won’t do it again,” she declares.
“I’m tryn’a fix it all,” I tell her. “I’m tryn’a make sure Marcus’ stain or Sarah’s vendetta can’t hurt the people I love. They took my mom, which lost me my dad. Then they stole my aunt.”
The padlock pops open on her consent, sympathy clouding her eyes.
“I won’t let them touch you or Jesse any longer. I won’t let her close to Camryn, Codi, or Parker. I’m fucking petrified of the damage she can inflict. I’m tryn’a stop it before it blows up in our faces.”
“Why can’t you just leave it?” she questions, trying to understand.
“You told me you knew Sarah. You knew Marcus. Do you think she’ll stop? Do you think she’ll rest until the threat of any of us is extinct from her life?”
She doesn’t even pause to consider my question. “No.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Camryn
“You’re restless,” I tell him. Watching his leg bounce up and down in agitation.
He stops the incessant movement, pausing to look at me. “I haven’t fought in months.”
I can’t decide if he seems relieved or pained by the thought.
“Do you miss it?”
“Yes,” he answers immediately. “No,” he corrects. “Fuck. I don’t know.”
I sit next to him on the bed, my hand reaching for his.
“I miss the outlet.” His thumb traces my hand. “When I’m stuck. When I’m fucking confused. When I’m lost,” he finishes on a whisper.
“Could you find somewhere to do it safely?”
Twisting his neck, he looks at me, a smile growing on his face. “Fuck, you’re cute.” His arm hooks over my shoulder, bringing me into his body.
“I’ll take that as a no.”
Lips to my temple, he talks against my skin, the burr of his voice kissing me. “I don’t do it for the fight, Cami. I do it searchin’ for pain. Tempting fate, gambling on my life.”
“Oh.” My heart cracks.
“So I’m caught. I can’t do that anymore. I don’t want to do that.” He eases my hurt. “But…” He trails off, unsure of what more to say.
“Sometimes life gets hard.”
He shakes his head. “Sometimes I don’t know what the fuck to do and I don’t know how to take control. Everything is so fucking uncertain.”
Neck tipped back, he growls at the ceiling.
“I haven’t told my mom about the twins, about you.”
I try hard to hide my shock, failing miserably. “You talk to your mom?”
“Mm,” he confirms distractedly. “I visit her grave. Talk to her about how much of a fucking failure I am. She listens and I think I still have her love. No matter how much I disappoint her.”
“Rocco.”
He shakes his head, standing to distance himself from me. “Talk about a buzzkill.”
“Baby.” I stand, moving toward him. He attempts to move away but I halt him, hand on his arm, pulling him back. “Let’s go now. To Lila. Tell her about Blake and Jesse. Tell her about me. Tell her about the things that make you happy.”
Rocco’s eyes are consuming on a good day. Days like today, tumultuous days, they’re like caverns; dark and deep, voids you could easily become lost in.
He doesn’t speak for long drawn out seconds. Enough to make me second guess myself.
“I… I shouldn’t have suggested it. I—”
“You’d do that with me?”
What is it about imposing men that show their vulnerability that slices away at your heart?
“Of course,” I implore.
“It’s your dad’s birthday, the party—”
“Is hours