Chapter 59
CHAPTER
FIFTY-NINE
JULIETTE
My eyelids flutter open, and for a moment, I don’t remember what happened.
Almost as if it were nothing more than a nightmare.
I don’t remember yesterday or how I woke up beside the man I’ve started falling for.
A man who treats me like I’m something precious.
I don’t remember working all day or the feeling I had that someone was watching me.
For a brief moment, I forget it all. But then it comes flooding back to me in a rush. I remember asking Alex to pick up Cade, driving to my condo only for my suspicions to be correct and finding Victor there with a gun.
Then there’s a blur before I was able to get a hold of the gun, and I killed him. I used every bullet in that gun. I emptied them into his body. And I didn’t flinch. I took a man’s life, and I don’t feel guilty, not even after I’ve slept, not after hours have passed by.
Tears fill my eyes, and they fall down the side of my face, landing on the pillow beneath my head.
I try not to cry out. I try not to make a move or a single sound to alert Slade that I’m awake.
But just when I think I’ve gotten away with it, I feel his fingers begin to move up and down my arm again.
“I know you’re awake, honey,” he murmurs. “And I know you might not want to, but we need to talk about what you’re able to talk about before we go get Cade and bring him home.”
Cade.
“Is he okay?” I ask, my heart slamming against my chest at the thought of him.
“He’s perfectly fine, Jules. You did good by having Alex take him to the clubhouse, better than good. You did the exact right thing.”
His words fill me with a sense of pride. I don’t push up from my position on the couch to look at him, though. I’m not sure I can yet. Lying here with him and looking into his face are two totally different things.
When I tell him what happened, well, what I can tell him at least, I don’t think I can look him in the eye. I don’t know exactly what I can even verbalize at this point, or if I’ll ever be ready to talk about it.
If I’ll ever remember the details. I honestly hope that I don’t. I don’t really want to remember every minute of it in detail like that. I can feel my body, the way it aches, the places it hurts, and where I’m bruised.
I could piece together the events of the afternoon if I really wanted to. If I sat down and thought about it, I could force myself to think about everything he did to my body. I don’t want to know, so I’m going to push it out of my mind and wait for my body to heal, then move forward.
“All the things you think he did to me, he probably did,” I whisper. “I don’t remember, and I don’t want to,” I say.
He doesn’t respond to my words. Instead, he hums as his fingers continue to make sweet, soft motions along my bicep. My eyes slowly close, and I let everything soak in for a long, quiet moment before I continue.
“He was in my condo before I got there. Waiting for me with a gun. I couldn’t run, so he made me strip down.
That’s how I ended up naked. I wasn’t sure I would get the opportunity to get the gun in my hands, but I knew that was my only way out alive.
Nobody would know where I was, because nobody knew I even had the place except Alex and Elodie, but I didn’t think they would even think that’s where I was. ”
My words flow, and I don’t know why, but it makes everything easier to talk to him this way. Not looking into his eyes, not looking at his face. I don’t want to see him. I need it to feel like I’m telling the wall my story, not this man I’ve fallen deep with.
“He was on top of me, and he left the gun at the side of my head. That’s how I got the gun. He wasn’t paying attention to me, and when I slid my hand down, I was able to grip it, and then I shoved it in his stomach and pulled the trigger.”
I could hear a pin drop, and his fingers stop making lazy movements against my arm. The silence consumes me, but everything is open, and my words bubble over the top, spilling everywhere. I can’t shove them back in, no matter how badly I want to do just that.
Instead, I continue. “And then I scrambled backward, and I kept pulling the trigger until it was empty and I was sure he was dead.”
I think that maybe he’s fallen asleep, but then I hear his breath come out in a heavy sigh, and his fingers begin again.
“Thank you for telling me that, honey,” he murmurs. “For trusting me with it. You never want to talk about it again, I’m good with that. You need to scream and vent, maybe take some aggression out in the form of sex, or the target range, I’m good with all of the above.”
I laugh softly and finally turn my head so I can look up into his eyes.
It’s in this exact moment that I can see his age.
He wears it well, and before this moment, I haven’t really noticed his age at all.
I know he’s older than me, but without sleep, his face etched in worry, I can tell he’s much older than me.
Lifting my hand, I cup his cheek. “How old are you, Slade?”
He snorts. “Too old for you,” he responds immediately. I don’t say anything, my gaze still focused on his, and then he snorts. “Fifty, honey. I’m fifty.”
“You’re not that old. I’m twenty-nine.”
“Jules,” he chuckles, the sound almost consuming him. “I was twenty-one years old and fucking anything that moved when you were born.”
Wrinkling my nose, I slide my thumb across his bottom lip. “Ew,” I say, which causes him to burst into laughter.
He lowers his head, his mouth touching mine. He doesn’t deepen the kiss. His lips only brush across mine before he lifts his head, a smile playing on his mouth. “Yeah, I won’t be saying or even thinking about that again.”
And that’s how our conversation ends. I realize that we’re going to be okay. He knows what happened and what I haven’t said. He’s pieced it all together, but he’s not afraid. He’s not scared.