Chapter Thirty Larissa
Chapter Thirty
LARISSA
AS THE RELENTLESS fog that’s held me captive finally lifts, I run my palm along the mattress next to me, finding it vacant and cool—which has my eyes popping open.
Panic threatens, and the rest of the cloud disperses while I will myself into both the reality and possibility that I’m already too late.
It’s when I quickly stand that I nearly topple back in bed. Reminded of just how sick I was, and still am. The tightness in my chest telling as a rogue cough passes my lips.
Groggy from the lingering effects of the morphine, I reason that if Tyler hadn’t dosed me, I’d be coughing uncontrollably.
Further reasoning that his care for me wasn’t malicious or part of any ploy.
That truth brought home by the memory of his worshipful touch.
Of his body surrounding mine, and the strength of his possessive grip.
The sad truth remains that I still can’t trust that he didn’t utilize that time to carry out whatever plans he set into motion.
Then again, not once can I recall his absence.
I can still feel him everywhere, even as he doesn’t respond to the call of his name.
Scanning the room, my consolation comes at the sight of a freshly lit fire burning in the adjacent living room.
The height of the flames indicative that he’s nearby.
Vision clear for the first time in days, I take in the small house, which is brimming with life.
Someone else’s life.
Built-in bookshelves line the wall opposite the bed, stuffed with dozens of novels and unique trinkets.
I note a cardigan hanging on the back of an antique desk chair and a thick leather journal lying open atop it.
It’s the need to relieve myself that overrides my curiosity and has me pathetically managing the few steps to reach the bathroom.
Clicking on the light, I instantly spot two things I desperately need—a toilet and a large claw-foot tub.
After relieving myself, I turn the tub faucet wide open before spotting lavender bath salt nearby.
Tossing some in, I notice his and her products strewn throughout, many of his costing a pretty penny.
Satisfied, I abandon any further investigation before sinking into the tub, body screaming in gratitude as I submerge my aching limbs.
Mere minutes into my soak, I sense him at the door.
“We’re at Tobias and Cecelia’s house,” I state, glancing over to see him idling in the threshold.
His beard is fuller now and neatly trimmed.
He’s again dressed in all black, this time with the telling addition of his dog tags, which hang like a beacon around his neck.
“Virginia,” I continue, trying to hide that observation in my voice.
“I knew we had to be if you were going back and forth to DC.”
Loaded seconds follow as I soap a washcloth and continue bathing before glancing over the lip of the tub. When our eyes meet and hold, he grants me the slow dip of his chin.
“And let me guess, our campground is somewhere deep in those woods.” I tilt my head in the direction of the large backyard I glimpsed while in and out of consciousness. When he remains quiet, it’s confirmation enough.
“Tell me about them,” I say, running the rag along my arm.
Tyler hesitates briefly before stalking in and taking a seat at the edge of the tub. Eyes trailing my every movement as he dips his fingers in the water. “Jesus, it’s scalding.”
“Maybe it will finally get all that DiCicco filth off that you can’t seem to see past,” I counter, my bite having far more strength than I feel. In response, he rakes his full bottom lip with his teeth, taking my cue to discard any more bullshit polite pretense.
“We need to talk.”
“I’m guessing the clock is ticking out?”
He nods again.
“Tell me about them.” I continue bathing as he cants his head in confusion.
“Don’t you know?”
“No. Their window was very hard to see through,” I admit.
“For good fucking reason,” he snaps. “They deserve their bubble and privacy. They earned it.”
“I’m curious about your take on them,” I say, running the rag along my leg.
“My take doesn’t matter,” he dismisses.
“Humor me, and consider it an equivalent to a bedtime story.” I yawn. “Because I might just sleep in here.”
His brows pinch. “Not hungry?”
“I’ve been starving for real food for so long that it’s not a weakness anymore.”
He nods, seeming to understand as he unabashedly roams my naked body.
The heat it stirs within warring with my budding anger about my fucked-up predicament.
Especially as he mulls over his word choice, choosing carefully what he’ll allow himself to relay.
My failure is evident, as is the knowledge that he will never trust me, which painfully cements itself in my head and heart.
“Ill-fated,” he begins, “star-crossed, whatever you want to label it, it was the perfect collision between them. But not in a good way. In essence, their beginning felt very much like the end.”
“Of?”
“Of everything,” he relays warily. “It was like the stars aligned just to watch the shit show and then got disappointed they didn’t get the result they wanted. The atom bomb didn’t go off the way they hoped, and so they found a way to detonate it to spite them. To spite us all.”
“By bomb, you mean Dominic?” I ask as the air between us becomes charged, heavier, and he slowly nods.
“A detonation we all still feel to this day. Some of it because Cecelia was with Dom and Sean first.”
“Both of them?”
He frowns, weighing my reaction carefully. “You didn’t know?”
“No, I didn’t.” I leave it at that.
“That’s right.” He peers down at me. “Your surveillance didn’t start until the summer after they got together.”
Dom died not long after I left. Delphine followed the spring after.
Pinpointing when my surveillance began being his true question.
The answer to which I know I should give him—and I want to.
My ability to do so depending on him and how this conversation plays out.
But it’s an answer he’s refused me the opportunity to provide time and again.
The tension rolling off him a good indication of how vital our remaining time is.
Which sparks some hope that I’m not too late. “How long have I been out this time?”
“Three days. Would have been less without the cough.”
“Three days,” I parrot, the sand pouring rapidly now as a mix of animosity and desire brews between us.
As he unabashedly watches me bathe, a palpable sense of hesitation on his part grows, and I put a voice to at least one of the reasons for it.
“You can join me,” I whisper roughly, “because you want to be in here with me … and I want you to be.”
It’s then that I finally look up and see the intensity of the craving he’s doing nothing to mask. At the sight of it, my lips part as he pulls me under his spell before purposefully breaking the contact.
“This is so fucked,” he utters, seemingly more to himself, as he denies us both.
“Because the stars hate us too, don’t they, Marine?”
“If I believed in them, little mobster, I think they’d laugh at the thought of us.”
“No, that’s all you,” I say, rinsing the rag.
His jaw ticks, and though I sense his grudge isn’t for me, he surprisingly confirms it by putting a voice to it. “Because I make my own fate.”
“As do I.” I blow out a breath. “We’re similar in that way, too, but you know that.”
Not bothering to look for confirmation I don’t need, I dispense some shaving cream into my palm before lathering my leg.
When I struggle a little to run the razor along my skin, Tyler gently takes it before carefully following the path I started.
As he does, I can physically feel his deception slicing through the air between us.
Radiating from the guilt he’s not masking.
In knowing it, I snatch the razor back from his hands and see that truth confirmed in his eyes.
“Tell me about them.”
“We don’t have time for bedtime stories,” he clips in irritation.
“Well, I have a feeling you don’t need anything else from me.” I rinse the razor and start on my other leg. “So, consider this my last request,” I insist, leaving no room for argument.
His eyes follow the path of my movements as he continues.
“When Dom was killed, the aftershocks were immeasurable, to the point our club imploded. As did we individually, Tobias especially. Out of pain and fear, he cast Cecelia out to keep her safe. This caused years of separation, which did nothing to ease the heartache for either of them. Both were as much in love with one another as they were the day before. I watched them struggle for years, practically screaming for one another in their individual skins … but it was when Cecelia returned years later, refusing to back down from that truth, that they glimpsed the missing pieces of themselves that sparked their true beginning.”
“This is quite poetic for you,” I say, tracing every hardening inch of him as I coat my other leg while rinsing the razor free.
“Because it’s relatable,” he admits before shifting, “and you said bedtime story.”
“Right,” I say. “Sorry, go on.”
“After forcing her away a second time for fear of losing her, he imploded and came after her. Intent on doing what he had to prove himself, he fought hard—and trust me, she didn’t make it easy.
He’d put her through hell, and she refused to let him forget it.
Both that war and their reconciliation happened in this very house.
And though it didn’t happen overnight, Tobias eventually won her back …
” He briefly becomes lost in thought as I see just how relatable this story is for him.
“Because star-crossed or not, they defied those stars and all the other odds that threatened to keep them apart.”
“And so?” I ask, finishing my leg and submerging it as I glance over at him. “Will they live happily ever after?”