Chapter 8 Evangeline #2
"By playing house with a biker? By living in a crime scene? By throwing away everything we built together?"
"We didn't build anything together. You built a prison and expected me to live in it gratefully."
Ethan's face flushes with anger. "That prison was a life most women would kill for. Security, stability, social standing—"
"I don't care about social standing."
"You will. When the reality of this situation hits you."
"What I had with you was nothing."
The words come out harsher than I intended, but they're true. Whatever I thought I felt for Ethan, whatever I convinced myself our relationship was, it was hollow. Empty. A performance we were both putting on for different reasons.
"You'll regret this," Ethan says, his voice dropping to something cold and threatening. "All of it. The house, the children, him. And when you do, don't expect me to be there to pick up the pieces."
"I won't."
“He’s just using you. When you get on your back, he’ll be done with you,” Ethan spits out, his face contorting with rage.
“He’s doing what’s right for his family. This has nothing to do with you. It’s everything to do with those children.” The ones who are terrified right now watching this play out. God, Ethan has no remorse, no empathy at all. What the hell did I ever see in him?
"His family? You're not his family, Evangeline. You're a convenient solution to a problem he didn't want to handle alone." Ethan's voice turns vicious. "But when the novelty wears off, when you stop being useful, he'll move on. And you'll be left with nothing."
"I'd rather have nothing with him than everything with you."
The words hang in the air like a slap. Ethan's face goes white, then red with fury.
"Fine," he says, his voice shaking with rage.
"Have your little fantasy. But when it falls apart—and it will—don't come crawling back to me begging for forgiveness.
You had your chance to come home, to fix this mistake.
You chose him over me, chose chaos over stability, chose to throw away everything I offered you. "
"I chose to be happy."
"You chose to be stupid." He straightens his tie with sharp, angry movements. "But you'll realize that soon enough. And when you do, remember this conversation. Remember that I tried to save you from yourself."
Then he's gone, the front door slamming behind him with enough force to rattle the windows.
The silence that follows is heavy with tension and unspoken promises. Sophie starts crying, upset by the raised voices and adult conflict she doesn't understand.
"It's okay, sweetheart," I tell her, gathering her into my arms. "He's gone. Everything's okay."
I carry Sophie into the hallway, whispering a lullaby Calla used to sing. Her tiny arms wrap around my neck like a lifeline. As I comfort her, I can feel Hades watching me with dark eyes that promise retribution against anyone who threatens this fragile peace we're trying to build.
"You alright?" he asks quietly.
"Yeah. I am."
My shoulders unclench. For a second, I breathe. Surrounded by my nieces and nephews and protected by a man who makes me feel things I've never felt before, I'm more alright than I've been in years.
Hades’ jaw flexes. His knuckles are white where they grip the back of the chair.
His voice is low, but there's a vibration under it, like thunder rolling just out of reach. “The next time that bastard walks in here like that, yelling at you in front of the kids, I won’t be polite about it.”
The words are calm. His eyes are anything but.
The casual promise of violence should probably alarm me. Instead, it makes me feel safer than I have in months.
Later, after Tempest has left and the children are settling into their new bedrooms, I find myself alone with Hades in his living room.
He's putting together a bookshelf for Jake's room, one that came with approximately three hundred pieces and instructions written in what appears to be ancient Sanskrit.
"Need help?" I ask.
"I've got it. Why don't you sit down? You've been on your feet all day."
I settle onto the couch, watching him work. There's something mesmerizing about the way his hands move, sure and steady as he fits pieces together. Strong hands that could probably break bones without effort but are gentle enough to comfort a crying child.
"Can I ask you something?" I say.
"Shoot."
"Why are you doing this? Really. You could have just taken custody of the kids and asked me to step back. It would have been a lot simpler."
His hands are still on the screwdriver he's using. "That what you think I should have done?"
"It would have made sense. You're their uncle. You have more experience with... complicated situations. I'm just the uptight sister-in-law who didn't even know them that well."
"You're not uptight."
"Ethan always said—"
"Ethan's a fucking idiot who wouldn't recognize a good thing if it bit him on the ass."
The vehemence in his voice surprises me. "You barely know me."
"I know enough." He looks up from the bookshelf, his dark eyes intense.
"I know you walked away from a life of comfort to take care of five kids who aren't even yours.
I know you stood up to that controlling bastard even when it would have been easier to give in.
I know you make Lily laugh and help Mason with his homework and listen to Emma talk about boys without judgment. "
"Anyone would do that."
"No, they wouldn't. Most people would have done exactly what Ethan suggested. Put them in foster care or boarding school and gone back to their lives. But not you."
"They're family."
"Yeah, they are, and so are you."
The simple statement hangs between us, loaded with meaning I'm not sure I'm ready to unpack. Because if I'm family, if this arrangement is more than just temporary convenience, then what does that make us?
What does that make him?
"I should probably start going through some of the boxes from their old house," I say, changing the subject to safer ground. "Help them decide what to keep in their new rooms; what memories are important to them."
"Want help with that?"
"You don't have to—"
"Angel," the nickname stops me cold, "I want to help. With all of it. The kids, the house—whatever you need."
Angel. He called me Angel. He’s never called me that before.
"Why?" I whisper.
"Because you matter to me. You've always mattered to me."
The admission hits like a lightning bolt, illuminating feelings I've been trying to ignore for years.
The way my heart races when he walks into a room.
The way I find excuses to sit near him at family gatherings.
The way I've compared every touch, every kiss, every moment of intimacy with Ethan to imaginary moments with Hades.
"Hades..."
"I know the timing's shit. I know you just ended things with him and you're dealing with the kids and the last thing you need is me complicating things further.
" He sets down the screwdriver and looks at me directly.
"But I can't pretend anymore. I can't pretend I don't feel what I feel when you're around. "
"What do you feel?"
"Like I've been holding my breath for years and I can finally breathe again."
The honesty in his voice makes my chest tight with longing. Because I know exactly what he means. Being around him feels like coming home, like finding a piece of myself I didn't know was missing.
"The kids..."
"Are asleep. And this conversation is between us."
He's right. Whatever this is, whatever we're dancing around, it's separate from our responsibilities to the children. It's about us, about the connection that's been simmering beneath the surface for years.
"I was engaged to someone else," I say weakly.
"Were. Past tense, and we both know that engagement was a mistake long before you figured it out."
"How could you possibly know that?"
"Because I watched you at every family gathering for two years. Watched you smile when you were supposed to smile, laugh when you were supposed to laugh, play the part of the perfect fiancée. But you never looked happy. Never looked like yourself."
"And how would you know what I look like when I'm myself?"
"Because you're being yourself right now. With the kids, in this house, even when you're fighting with that asshole. You're more alive than I've ever seen you."
He's right, and the knowledge of it scares me. Because being myself around Hades means acknowledging feelings I've been running from for years.
"This is complicated," I say.
"Everything worth having is complicated."
"The kids need stability. They can't handle more upheaval in their lives."
"Who says there'd be upheaval? I'm not going anywhere, Angel. With or without this thing between us, I'm here for them. For you."
The promise settles something anxious in my chest. Whatever happens between us personally, he's committed to this makeshift family we're building.
"I need time," I say finally. "To figure out what I want, what's best for everyone."
"Take all the time you need. I'm not going anywhere."
But even as he says it, even as he goes back to assembling the bookshelf like we didn't just have a conversation that changed everything between us, I can feel the pull. The gravity that's been drawing us together for years, finally strong enough to be acknowledged.
Later, after he's gone to his own room and I'm alone in the guest room he's set up for me, I find myself going through a box of old photos from Marcus and Calla's house. Family barbecues, birthday parties, holiday gatherings spanning the past five years.
And in almost every picture where Hades and I are in the same frame, we're looking at each other.
Not at the camera, not at the people around us, but at each other. Like the rest of the world disappeared whenever we were in the same room.
The evidence of our attraction is right there in glossy four-by-six form, undeniable and obvious to anyone who cares to look.
How did I not see it before? How did I convince myself that what I felt for him was just harmless attraction, that what I had with Ethan was real love?
I pick up one photo in particular, from Calla's birthday party last year. Hades is laughing at something I'm saying, his face more open and relaxed than I've ever seen it. And I'm looking at him like he's the most fascinating person in the world.
Like I’d already fallen halfway without noticing, and the rest of me just caught up.
The realization hits me like a physical blow, because it's true. I've been in love with Hades for years, and I was too scared, too committed to the safe path, too worried about what people would think to acknowledge it.
But I can't hide from it anymore.
Not when he's here helping me raise five children.
Not when he looks at me like I'm something precious.
Not when being around him feels like coming home.
I'm in love with Ronan ‘Hades’ Blackwood, and for the first time in my adult life, I'm ready to stop running from what I want.