Chapter 21
RAZOR
It’s now been three months since Sunday smiled her way into my life, and I have never been happier. We have settled into a routine. She works the bar at night; I watch her, and when we leave; we do it together.
I head to her room, or she spends the night in mine, and without putting a label on it, she is my official girl.
I’m aware she wishes I would make us official with words rather than actions, but I never will. Why ruin a very good thing by applying rules?
I’m aware the guys are respectful, despite the lack of a title, and Sunday never indicates she would be interested in any advances from them.
The other whores question her about the status of our relationship, which never changes. I want her and she wants me, and that is how it is.
Blade is still the constant in my life. He always will be, and there isn’t a day that goes by without us connecting several times. Today, we are working out in the gym, and for once we are the only ones.
As I lift weights beside him, it’s a common pastime, and when we stop for a break, he towels off the sweat and sits astride his bench.
“Sunday.”
His low rumble prepares me, and nerves cut me from all sides.
“What about her?”
“Are you gonna make it official?”
“No.”
His low breath rolls off me, and he sighs.
“You’ve got to let it go, man.”
I say nothing, only too aware of what he is referring to.
His frustration is obvious as he growls. “She deserves more.”
“I know.”
My heart rate is high, and not just because of the workout.
Sunday is, and probably always will be, the most important woman in my life.
I can’t breathe when she is out of my sight; my world makes sense when she is in it, and I search for her even before my brother, which tells me I’m screwed already.
But I will never tell her. Never apply that burden to her shoulders, and so I worship in my own way, loving her with actions and not words.
Blade won’t let the subject go.
“You are not him.”
“Leave it.”
An ominous growl rumbles in my chest, and he leans forward, his glare scorching my soul.
“You hide behind your fucking beard because you are afraid of what lies beneath it. Look at me, Razor. I am identical to you, so what do you see when you look at me?”
“I said, leave it.”
I glare at him, my fist curling, the jagged edge of the scar on his face reminder enough of what that man was capable of – what we are capable of.
“What happened wasn’t your fault.”
He has repeated this sentence most days since it happened, and I will never be convinced that he is right.
I hold a burning hole in my heart that our father set alight all those years ago, which has never diminished. It’s a part of me now and probably always will be, which is probably why I have huge commitment issues.
“What if she leaves?”
Blade changes direction, and I’m shocked at how much his words stab me on repeat.
Just the idea of Sunday walking away from me is too hurtful to imagine. Not hearing her sweet voice, receiving her cute smile, and unable to taste those sweet lips and slide into her after a grueling day.
I close my eyes against the pain of that, accepting it will happen one day but not prepared to dwell on the subject for long.
I’ll deal with that when it happens.
“Then she leaves.”
It takes all of my strength to say the words with a lack of emotion that is so not the case. My world would end if Sunday left. I know it, and so does my brother. I can’t fool him because it would be like lying to myself.
“You’re gonna lose her if you don’t let go of the past.”
“Then I’ll lose her.”
I stand, my heart racing, my anger brewing, and my attention shifting onto the sudden ache in my chest. There is only one solution to this problem, and without another word, I leave my brother behind in the gym and stride off with purpose.
He doesn’t follow me; he made his point.
He did it on purpose because he always had the ability to read me like a book.
It’s the same with me. I’m aware of his thoughts before he voices them.
An undeniable bond between twins, which gives him the right to comment, no matter how I hate facing the truth.
I type out a text.
You got a minute, darlin’?
The words disappear into fuck knows where and I head to my room, a shower the most important thing right now.
The three dots dance on the screen, and then her reply comes through.
I’m just finishing up restocking the bar. I could meet you in ten.
Meet me at my place.
Everything falls back into place as I move toward the Reaper block, intent on a cool shower and spending the rest of the day inside my girl. She has become a coping mechanism. My first port of call in a storm, and I ignore the fact that one day she won’t be there to answer it.
I would never ask her to stay. Never ask her to give her soul to mine because I simply do not deserve a woman like her, and she doesn’t deserve for me to ruin her life.