Chapter 14 #4
His jaw tightens, and a flash of wild, dangerous anger flares in his eyes—enough to tear the man in that house to pieces.
My knees shake, and a knot forms in my throat and belly as I climb out of the Chevrolet and walk to the house.
I draw a deep breath and turn the doorknob.
My heart stutters, and my mind goes blank.
I slam the door behind me and run straight into his arms. I hold him tight, breathing in his familiar scent deeply.
“You aren’t hurt,” I whisper. Tears well up and spill down my face. His huge arms wrap around me as he buries his face in my hair.
After the outburst, I pull myself free and force my voice into something light, conversational.
“How is Greta?”
“She’ll be fine.”
The silence stretches on, and Cyrus’s shattered glance twists a knife in my heart. I cup his face in my hands.
“It wasn’t all a lie, Cyrus. I really believed I could become a better person.
That my feelings could change with time.
I kept telling myself I didn’t love him.
That I couldn’t love him after everything that had happened—that I should hate him…
But I can’t. Chase was gentle more often than he was cruel.
I might never forgive him for what happened, but I can live with it.
And I know… I know I’m horrible, but I can’t keep running.
I can’t destroy any more lives. I messed up yours, too—and I’m so sorry. ”
My heart beats frantically as a unique collision of emotions—anger, sadness, pity—makes my body tremble and my voice shake.
Cyrus pulls me to himself and wraps me in a loving embrace, his warmth spreading into me.
“It’s not only your fault.”
I look at him with teary eyes. His thumb runs along my face, wiping away a stray tear.
“What do you mean?”
“We both made big mistakes. I don’t think we were ever straight with one another.
You wanted to keep your secret—the fact that you loved another man.
And I wanted to keep everything I knew about him and his brother from you.
I was selfish, Grace… I wanted to have you, because…
Fuck it, I’ll say it.” He rakes his rough fingers through his dark hair, which falls on his shoulder in disarray.
“I fell for you already in the courtroom. But you never let me in.”
He looks deep into my eyes and tucks a stray lock of my hair behind my ear.
Hearing this hurts, but I deserved it. I take my eyes off him, disappointed.
“But,” he says, hooking two fingers under my chin and turning my face back to him, “I want you to be happy. You deserve it after everything you’ve been through. You’re choosing him of your own free will, right? That beast isn’t forcing you, is he?”
“No,” I say softly, resting my head against his chest. “Thank you for accepting my decision, even if you don’t agree with it.
You matter to me, Cyrus. Saying goodbye is as hard for me as it is for you.
That’s why I’m crying like a little girl.
I’ll miss you, because deep down I love you.
I really do. Just not the way I love him.
He’s like fucking oxygen—I feel like I’m suffocating without him.
And I know this hurts, but I’d like it if… ”
“You don’t have to make excuses, Grace. I saw you cry after sex. Things might have changed with time, but—” he pauses, “—it really fucking hurt my pride that the woman I lived with was crying after we were together, not smiling. And I won’t lie to you—you really fucking broke my heart.”
“I hope one day you can forgive me.”
The door creaks open behind me. Chase’s eyes flash with anger, but I don’t let go of Cyrus. I look back at him defiantly, because Cyrus matters to me. He was the one at my side when I needed support most.
Cyrus’s huge hands fall away. He picks up the sports bag tossed in front of the fridge.
“I’ll go back to Mom’s while you pack your things.”
I grab his arm and squeeze.
“Thank you. Thank you for everything, Cyrus.”
“Have a nice life.”
Cyrus is playing with his life when he kisses my forehead.
He knows he’s on the losing side, but he doesn’t care.
He works his ass off to make the world a better place, fighting men like the Baker brothers.
But we don’t choose love. We don’t decide who we fall for—or when.
The only choice we have is whether we stay with that person.
And life passes so quickly. Why deny yourself joy? Why deny yourself happiness?
Love is selfish, and it makes people selfish. It’s something two people have to share.
Chase steps aside so Cyrus can leave his own house. I look into Chase’s dark eyes and push the window wide open. There’s nothing to be afraid of now. Some of the monsters are already dead—and the one who’s left has stolen my heart.
“You’re hungry,” he says, resting his warm palm on my flat stomach. At first it tickles, then my sensitive skin adjusts to his touch.
“I don’t think there’s any food in the fridge. No one’s been home in the past week.”
“Let’s go shopping.”
He wraps his hands around my waist and buries his face in my hair. “I’ll never get bored of your hair. It’s long, shining—”
“It smells horrible right now—,” I cut in. “—Just like my clothes. Like my skin.”
“Let’s take a shower before we head to the grocery store.”
My gaze sweeps the room. My heart climbs into my throat, and a bitter sigh slips past my lips.
“What I want most is to pack my stuff and leave. I don’t want to spend a single night here without Cyrus.”
“He was the one who offered it,” he says, his voice cold and measured.
“To me. Not to us.”
“Where did he fuck you?”
The question—rough and invasive—steals my breath.
“Chase…”
“Where?” he pushes for an answer. His muscular arms hold my body tight against his.
“In the bed.”
“Did you enjoy it?” He pulls my hair away from my neck and traces a burning line along my skin with his lips.
“I came.” I clear my throat and jut my chin.
“So you didn’t enjoy it.”
“We don’t have to talk about this.”
“We do.”
“Why?”
“Because I have to know how many times he touched you, and how—against the rules.”
“What? What kind of rules?”
“Nothing that would affect you. Just go on.”
“On the kitchen counter.”
His body tenses, and his hot breath burns my skin.
“How many times, total?”
“Six. And I came every time.”
“But you didn’t enjoy it.”
I turn to him, tears in my eyes, and look deep into his dark, mysterious gaze. His face is emotionless—cold—but his heart… it’s pounding, like a caged animal fighting for its life. For its freedom.
“I had to do it. For myself. You… must understand that. I needed it after everything that happened, and…” I catch my lower lip between my teeth and look down in shame, “I wanted to punish you.”
“I understand.” He cups my face in his warm hand. “I don’t blame you for what happened. So only the kitchen and the bedroom are off-limits?” He lifts one arched brow.
“The whole house,” I reply sternly, but he hooks a finger into the waistband of my jeans and pulls me closer. His lips twist into a dark, menacing smile.
“That cop is lucky no one breaks his hands and legs after what he did. He was forbidden to touch you—he broke the rule. Whatever comes of it is on him.”
“This isn’t right,” I say, shaking my head—still, I let Chase pull down my pants and panties. He grabs my naked ass and picks me up, pressing his erect manhood against me.
“You wanted to take a shower, didn’t you?” He flashes me a dark grin and follows me into the small bathroom. He kicks the door shut and lifts me onto the washing machine.
“Stop.” I press a hand to his chest. “Promise me you won’t hurt them anymore. You mustn’t.”
“I promise I won’t hurt them.”
I get undressed and turn on the shower. We wait until the water warms. A thin layer of mist blooms on the shower walls. There isn’t much room, but it doesn’t seem to bother Chase. He works shampoo into my hair, then conditioner. I have no idea why he loves my hair this much.
I turn to him suddenly and lift my index finger in warning.
“No one has power over Lucas.”
He takes me into his lap and enters me. The sweetness of pleasure sweeps us away in fevered waves.
I feel horrible being in the house with Chase—the house where I lived with Cyrus for two years.
But Chase didn’t want us to stay in the bunker his grandfather built.
And I didn’t want to, either. So I chose the lesser of two evils.
I’m sitting cross-legged on the bed, wearing only panties and a T-shirt.
Chase pauses in the doorway. His hair is wet, and he’s in fresh clothes, leaning against the doorframe.
He looks breathtaking. I flip through my old diary, full of his handwriting, skimming an entry here and there.
“How did you get your hands on it?”
“It got to me after you did.”
“How did you know I had a diary?”
“Nikky told me. She blabbed out quite a few things when she drank.”
“We should burn it.”
“You wrote that you’d want to read it when you’re old.”
I run my fingers over the worn, patched cover.
“Maybe this isn’t what I’d want to read about. Like the sound Poppy’s spine made when it broke. Or how many times you hit me. Or what it felt like when you tore out my teeth.” I grimace.
“This is our past. It’s part of us.”
“I like this metaphor, though.”
“Which one?” He comes in and sits down next to me.
“The one with the butterfly. You even illustrated it with a drawing. It’s nice, even though it was born from sick, dark thoughts.”
“I only ever wanted you, Grace. I never would’ve hurt you if Lucas hadn’t told me to.”
I close the booklet and slide it onto the nightstand.