Chapter 18
Aspen
The food he brought in has gone untouched, and it has nothing to do with the fact that he brought me something or I'm purposely refusing any kindness he offers.
How can I eat when I have no clue when the last time Eli ate was? How can I rest when I don't know if he's comfortable or safe enough to sleep?
As hateful as it sounds, I would give my own life and the life of every other person walking this earth to keep my son safe, to know that he's happy and loved. It's a sinister thought, to know that if I had to choose between the life of my child versus the life of someone else's, I'd pick my son every single time. Maybe that's the bad blood of my father swimming in my veins, or maybe I'm just a woman who has been through enough that I can be honest with myself. Maybe most people would struggle with that choice, but for me it's a no-brainer.
The catch is that I'm not being offered a choice. I'm being asked to sit and wait, to hope and pray that he is found safe.
It kills me to stay in this room, and I know I may not have to. I have been instructed to stay in here, but I haven't been told I couldn't leave. I know not to confuse Jericho with Damien. The two are very different men, but I also can't make the mistake of thinking that Jericho is the Luke I loved from years ago. He literally told me he wasn't, but I still don't know if that was a warning not to trust him at all.
As if my thoughts have called to him, the doorknob turns, garnering all my attention as it did moments ago, but I still don't lift my head.
Silence fills the room, the doorway staying empty, and this is what makes me lift my head. The door is ajar, but no one stands there, urging me to come out. It is an offering of sorts though, unspoken permission telling me I'm not a captive in this room.
I don't instantly move even though the peace offering is something that makes my heart beat quickly in my chest.
A few minutes pass, each one bringing with it the urgency to leave the room and, eventually, I climb off the bed and go to the slightly open door. I don't know what I expect to find when I poke my head through the opening but him sitting on the sofa, staring at the muted television, isn't it.
I look around the cabin, but just like he promised earlier, it's only the two of us here. I don't know how I should feel about that. He probably hates that he's stuck here with me and would much rather be anywhere else, but I can't negate the fact that he came looking for me after reading the emails. Clearly, he's a fixer, and he just didn't fully bargain for the mess I've made of my life when he decided to intervene.
"Where's Samuel?" I ask as I step out of the bedroom.
His eyes dart to the empty chair the bodyguard once occupied before looking back to the television. "He left with Hemlock."
"What a name," I say, inching closer to the sofa but battling the idea of sitting so close to him.
It was clear in the room earlier that he isn't very impressed with me these days, and although he opened the bedroom door, I can't take it as an open invitation to do whatever I want around here.
"Just part of who we are."
"Feds?" I ask as I sit on the couch, making sure I'm as far away from him as the furniture will allow.
"Marines."
My eyebrows furrow of their own volition as I stare at the side of his face. "You were in the military? You never told me that."
"I didn't tell you a lot of things. Couldn't have you running to your father, now could I?"
"I'm sure that you really think I might've done something like that, but I wouldn't have," I argue.
He turns his head, eyes locked on me before he speaks. "You're telling me from day one, that if you discovered who I really was, you wouldn't have run to dear old dad?"
I shake my head, my answer immediate. "The first day you looked at me, it was like I was being seen for the first time in my life."
"I was the only one willing to look at something I wasn't allowed to touch."
"I don't mean in that way," I argue. "I didn't feel like you saw me as another pawn in a game I wasn't allowed to play, but look what happened. You were the most dangerous one of them all, weren't you?"
Instead of answering, he turns his eyes back to the television screen, but I can tell by the way his gaze is locked in place that he isn't reading the subtitles racing along the bottom.
His breathing is now different from how it was when I first sat down, and it's one of the things I learned to track after Damien hit me the first time. I knew it was one of the things he didn't consider when trying to catch me by surprise.
I don't know why, but my mind doesn't go to the same place as it does with my abusive husband. I'm not afraid of the physical harm I know Jericho is physically capable of. I don't fear him in that way, and it could be a miscalculation on my part. He pretended to be a certain way when he was infiltrating my father's organization, and I don't know that I can trust any side of him he portrays.
Still, I don't prepare to lift my arms to cover my face, afraid that he'll hit me. The same way I felt all those years ago when he looked at me that first time is how I feel now, only I no longer feel worthy of his gaze. I stayed when I should've left. Fear kept me at the house, under Damien's watchful gaze, despite the number of times I had the urge to pull Eli from his crib and disappear into the night.
Wanting things to be different now doesn't change the hindsight of the number of times I could've left in the past, and look where it got me. I don't know if my son is safe, injured, or even still alive, and the harm that may come to him is all on my shoulders.
How is Jericho the same but still completely different? Why hasn't the attraction I felt for him all those years ago faded?
Do I only see him as a way out, like he's the only chance Eli and I have for a different type of life? There's no life to be had with this man. He can't stand the sight of me.
"Why are you here and not out with the other guy?"
I watch as his eyes flutter closed, his tongue snaking out to lick his lower lip. I have no right to the way the sight of it makes me feel, so I look away from him.
"Eli is my son. I'm not allowed to get in the way."
"I didn't take you as the type of man who listened to what others say."
He's off the couch and in my face in a flash, his warm breath on my skin when he speaks.
"If something happened to him because I couldn't make the right choice at the right time, I'd never forgive myself, Peach. This is a sacrifice I'm making for him, and it's not very fucking easy. Are you purposely fucking poking at me because you want me to act like your sadistic fuck of a husband?"
"Would you hurt me?"
His eyes dart between mine before he answers. "No more than I already have."
The wind seems to leave his sails as he takes a step back.
"Fuck, you always had the ability to make me lose my fucking mind."
I don't take it as the insult he seems to think it is, but I also know better than to think it gives me any form of power over him either.
"Has it been hard for you?"
"The last eight years?" he asks as he plops back down on the couch.
It doesn't go unnoticed that he's a little closer to me than he was before, and I have to wonder if this is a little cat-and-mouse game that we're playing, despite all that is at stake.
"They haven't been the best," he answers.
"I mean accepting that you have a son," I clarify.
He shakes his head. "Not really."
"You already feel emotionally connected?" I ask, wondering if this line of questioning is something he'd consider another jab. "Is that why you can't help your friends look for him?"
"It definitely is urging me to take a step back and reevaluate a few things in my life."
I don't know how to take his words. I can't imagine any person would be the same after becoming a parent. There are just some things that have to change to accommodate that new role, but I don't know how he sees himself fitting into Eli's life. I don't know where that puts me in his life either.
Once again the urge to beg for his forgiveness for the way I bowed my head and stayed silent that day bubbles up inside of me, but I know it won't be received well. Some things are unforgivable and letting him be dragged to imminent death because I wasn't brave enough to tell my father I loved him has eaten away at me every day since it happened. I don't deserve his forgiveness for being a coward, but it gave me Eli rather than my own death, and I won't apologize for that either.