Chapter 28 – Morgan
28
DO I EVEN KNOW YOU?
MORGAN
I had no idea what to say to Lance on the drive home. He was chatting excitedly about the pieces he loved the most, rambling on about who he was going to call and what my plans would be, asking me all sorts of questions. I answered him, but only in that hollow way people answer when they're too numb or in shock to process what's happening.
Once we were back at the apartment, he wrapped his arms around me and whispered in my ear, “So, we’ve got a couple of options. We can order in, or we can go out. I was thinking about that Jamaican-Cuban spot. You know, the one with the mojitos? We could dance. Or, if you want, we could do something a bit more upscale, though it might be stuffy. Champagne, maybe? Whatever you feel like.”
“Honestly, I’m really shattered. Do you mind if we just order in and watch a movie or something?” I asked, my voice quiet.
He leaned back and studied me for a long moment. “This is a night to celebrate, sweetheart. Come on, let’s get up to no good.”
I watched him, trying to hold it together, this man I’d started to trust, the one I’d fallen in love with… like a fool. Was it just another house of cards waiting to collapse? Another instance in my life where someone else was pulling the strings?
I sat down at the bar, the weight of everything sinking in. “I talked to Adele and Hector tonight. I need you to tell me more about your family, Lance.”
His face went still, the easy, confident expression he always wore melting into something else entirely. “Why? They’re unimportant. I left home a long time ago”
I chewed my bottom lip just waiting for him to reveal something. “And You haven’t seen them since?”
He watched me for a long moment. “Morgan, what’s up? I know you’re curious about my past and I will tell you about it, but it’s a downer to talk about. I’d rather celebrate tonight.”
I straightened up, cutting him off. He wasn’t lying, but it was a hell of a sidestep. “It’s not wise to evade my questions right now.”
“Morgan, what’s this about—” he started, stepping forward, voice low, pleading almost.
“You’ve been keeping things from me.” My words were cold, each one dropping between us like a stone. “And now all I can think about is, why? What could be so bad?”
“Fuck, Morgan,” he muttered, running his hands through his hair in frustration. “It’s complicated. The more you know about them. The more danger you’re in.”
He really wasn’t planning on telling me. “So were you ever going to mention Hector?”
His jaw…dropped. “You know,”
“I know” I shot back, my voice sharper than I intended. But I couldn’t help it. My heart was pounding, my head spinning. “You’ve had plenty of opportunity to tell me about your family, about why you’re estranged, but you didn’t. Even after you found out your brother was my mentor. What the hell was that about? Am I some kind of game between you?”
“Morgan—” He winced, stepping closer, but I couldn’t let him off the hook.
Not now. “Answer me, Lance.”
“You’re not a game. Not to me. Never to me. But fuck. I knew if he knew you were…important to me— It could be bad. It’s why I initially pushed you away and stayed away.”
The part of me that had always wanted him, wanted to be seen by him ached to pull him close and forget about this. But I couldn’t. Hector was his brother .
That was a pretty big detail to omit. “Then there’s the Adele Beekman of it. You met with her. Even after how I told you how important being able to do this myself was.” My voice cracked as I said it, the betrayal slicing through me.
Lance’s eyes widened in surprise. “No, it wasn’t like that. I was at dinner, and I saw her. We had a brief conversation, that’s it.”
That one felt like the truth, but damn, it was so hard to tell. “Again, Lance. Why not tell me!? You knew how important this was to me to stand on my own.”
“Morgan, you’ve earned everything,” he said, shaking his head, trying to reach for me again. “You’ve done all of this on your own. Nothing I said or didn’t say mattered to her. She’d already decided. I had nothing to do with it. You earned this.”
“Did I?” My voice trembled. “Because it sure feels like you pulled a string or two.”
His brow furrowed and he gave a little shake of his head. “No. You saw what you did tonight, Spitfire. That was all you. In spite of your Dad and the situation, you did that. All I did was tell her something she already knew.”
My hands were shaking. The cocktail of fury, and love and despair made me lightheaded. “God, I’m so in love with you that I’ve been trying to come up with any reason to let all this go. But I can’t. Because the interference is one thing. But kept secrets, omitted some pretty big details. Keeping me in the dark. It feels like manipulation.”
The muscle in his jaw ticked. “Morgan, that’s not what this is. I’m not him. Don’t do this,” he whispered, his voice breaking.
I coughed, trying to steady myself. “I don’t think this is going to work.”
His eyes flared wide. “Morgan, please. Hector, my family... They’re dangerous. But you’re safe with me. I’m seeing to it. I’ve had security on you since I found out he targeted you. I just didn’t want to worry you, so I didn’t tell you.”
“No.” My voice was firm. “It’s my life. The moment you saw Hector you should have told me! Instead, you said nothing. And it was so easy for you to say nothing. What the hell else are you withholding?” I stared at him for a long moment. The silence slicing between us. “I can’t trust you anymore.”
He stared at me as though the world had suddenly tilted off its axis. “Everything I’ve done, I’ve done for you. To protect you. God, Morgan, just being around you turns me into someone I barely recognize. I would do anything for your safety, for your happiness. Do you know how dangerous that is?”
I lowered my eyes, unable to meet his gaze. “No, I don’t. Because you don’t tell me anything. You hold all the cards, Lance.”
“Morgan, this is a mistake,” he said, his voice cracking. “I know I messed up, but don’t walk away from me. Please. I’ll tell you what I can. If that’s what it takes.”
I could feel my resolve weakening. But then I thought of all the omissions, all the manipulation.
“You’re ready to share now?” My voice was dripping with sarcasm, the anger and hurt I’d been suppressing boiling over.
“It’s complicated, Morgan. My family?—”
“No!” I shouted, frustration surging through me. I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. I slid off the barstool, brushing past him. “I’ll stay at a hotel.”
His hand wrapped around my wrist, gently, his thumb brushing the inside of my arm. “Morgan, don’t. Stay here. It’s safer. I’ll go to a hotel.”
“Safer? Safer from what? I’m going. We’re done, Lance,” I said softly, pulling my wrist from his grasp.
He stood there helplessly as I walked away with the weight of everything pressing down on me. Everything we had built, everything I had believed in, had crumbled to dust.
I loved him. God, I loved him. But I couldn’t stay. Not when I didn’t even know who he really was.
Lance
I had to watch her walk out the door.
"You're an asshole," I muttered to myself. I ran down the stairs after her, but she was already in a cab, driving off before I could stop her.
"Morgan, wait!" I shouted, but she was gone.
I didn’t even know what to do with myself because going back to the loft—where everything smelled like her, where every corner held a memory of her—I couldn’t fucking do it. So I did the only thing I could; I headed to La Table Ronde.
Within thirty minutes, I’d downed a scotch and was working on my second when someone sat down beside me.
"Wow, you’ve really made a mess of things, haven’t you?" Micah’s voice was low as he nodded at the bartender. "I’ll have what he’s having," Micah said, "but slower."
The bartender nodded. "Coming right up."
I scowled at Micah, my jaw tight. "Isn’t she with you?"
"She got to my place about five minutes ago," he replied. "She’s safe."
That was all I needed to hear. I wanted to ask so much more. Was she okay? Did she mention me? Did she forgive me? But I already knew the answer to that last one. No.
"Good. I want her safe."
Micah nodded. "So, you and Morgan, huh?"
"Shut up."
He just chuckled. "You fought it long enough. And then, first chance you get, you fuck it up."
"It’s not like I fucked up on purpose," I snapped, frustration seeping into my words.
"Yeah, this was a gimme, Lance. You know Morgan. The moment she feels someone’s trying to control her, she bolts. You just couldn’t help yourself, could you?"
"Everything I’ve done, I’ve done for her," I muttered, taking a swig of my drink.
Micah nodded slowly. "Yeah, of course. But does she see it that way?"
"Whose side are you on?"
"Me?" Micah raised an eyebrow. "I don’t take sides, man. All I know is that girl is in my apartment right now, not just upset—she’s broken. And I have nothing good to tell her. No amount of platitudes is going to fix this."
I looked down at my glass, unable to respond. Micah leaned in closer. "Do you love her?"
That was easy. A no-brainer. "Yeah. I think I always have."
"Right. Then comes the next question. Do you want to be with her?"
Instinctively, I rubbed at the burning spot on my chest where my heart used to be before she walked out.
"Yeah. I don’t think I deserve her, but that doesn’t stop me from wanting her."
Micah sighed, swirling his drink in his glass. "Look, maybe you start by actually telling her the truth. The whole truth. Not just the parts that are convenient. She’s not Gwen. She doesn’t need to see the perfect version of you."
I frowned. "What’s that supposed to mean?"
Micah snorted. "When you met Gwen, she needed a best friend, and you needed to be needed. That worked for both of you. She needed someone safe, someone dependable. She became your family, and you got to be the guy who saved her. But Morgan? She doesn’t need saving, Lance. She needs the real you."
I threw back my drink, glaring at him. "What are you, my therapist?"
"You couldn’t afford me," Micah joked, taking a sip of his drink. "I charge a thousand an hour."
"How’d you figure that?" I shot back. "Where’d you get your therapist degree?"
He laughed. "Oh, didn’t I mention? Double major in computer science and behavioral psychology."
I stared at him. "Are you fucking serious?"
"Yeah," he said casually. "I know what I’m talking about."
"So, you’re going to psychoanalyze me now?" I asked, feeling the weight of everything pressing down on me.
"I know how to manipulate you into doing what you need to do. But I’m going to pretend to care about you and lead you there on your own,” he said with a wink.
I frowned, irritated. "That doesn’t even make sense."
"Yeah, well," Micah shrugged. "Your family’s a fucked-up pile of shit. You won’t start escaping them until you acknowledge the part of you that’s a DuLac and deal with it. Running from who you are never fixes anything."
I scowled. "It’s worked for this long."
"For over a decade, you’ve avoided your old man, your sister, hell, you even avoided Hector, but that’s caught up with you now, hasn’t it?"
"How do you know about my family?" I asked, suspicious.
Micah laughed. "Atticus knows everything, Lance. The moment he met Gwen, he did a full background check on you. Found nothing. Then found Silas McGill. "
I nodded, the weight of that knowledge settling over me. "Yeah, I know. I just didn’t know you knew."
Micah studied me for a moment before asking, "Please. None of it matters to me. What matters is what are you going to do about Morgan?"
"I hadn’t planned for her," I admitted. "She wasn’t supposed to be part of the equation."
Micah shook his head. "And that’s why you’re an idiot. What’s your plan? Just let her walk away?"
"Maybe it’s better for her if she stays away from me," I muttered, the words feeling like poison on my tongue. "Maybe this is a good thing."
Micah raised an eyebrow. "Why do I get the feeling you’re about to do something really, really stupid?"
"Because I love her," I said quietly. "But part of me is rotting from the inside. She’s better off without me. I know it. You know it. Sooner or later, she’ll know it too."
Micah sighed, shaking his head. "You’re a fucking mess, man."