19. Denver
Chapter 19
Denver
“ H e’s going to keep coming for you until you make an official statement,” Ranger says.
I have a headache. I forgot how noisy it is here. My vacation was a haven of crashing waves, but here feels like every creak is someone coming to take me away.
I stare at the lunch Martha made and push the plate away, my stomach twisting. As if sensing the disrespect, the housekeeper stomps into the dining room and shouts at me.
“I can’t help not being hungry!” I bite back, and call her a few choice names in Italian. Martha throws her hands into the air before leaving.
“I wish you’d put more effort into your Italian,” Ranger says.
I scowl at him. “Even Dad barely knew how to speak it.”
“He knew enough.”
“Only the colorful words,” I remind him sweetly, and I’m about to launch into a tirade of abuse in beautifully accented Italian when someone else joins us.
“Well, well, well.” Axel strolls into the room, wearing a wrinkled suit and a smile. “Look who decided to come home.”
I squeak happily and jump out of my seat to fling my arms around him. He’s almost as tall as Ranger, and there’s no mistaking who Axel is, but he couldn’t be less like his dad. Axel is a troublemaker, but he’s closer to mischievous than dangerous.
“Welcome back to hell,” he whispers in my ear.
I grin and release him. “Thanks. Do I get a welcome basket?”
“Filled with skulls,” he says, wiggling his fingers and sitting opposite me. “Maybe even a few spells to ward off angry men called Ranger.”
“Watch your mouth,” Ranger says sharply.
Axel bobs his eyebrows at me, and I hold back a laugh.
I’ve always wanted a little brother, so when I moved here, I jumped into what I thought was big sister mode. It was apparent my arrival had happened at the right time because Axel was a mess. He was constantly in trouble, always getting arrested and drinking. I reeled him in as best I could, giving him structure because even though Ranger treats my life like a business, he never pays attention to his son. It’s an argument we’ve had more than once.
“So, how was your vacation?” Axel asks, picking up half of my untouched sandwich.
“Great. I did nothing for three months. And Wesson had fun, didn’t you, pup?”
Wesson’s head is on my lap, more interested in food than what I have to say.
“What’s the plan, now?” Axel says. “You’re a bigger celebrity than before. I’m getting a little tired of being asked about you.”
I pull a face. “The plan is to lay low.”
“No,” Ranger says. “You’ll show your face because people think you’re a hero. They don’t convict heroes.”
“They don’t convict Luxes regardless,” I point out. “They could think I’d killed a puppy, and I’d still be swanning around town.” I look at Wesson. “Not that I’d ever do that.”
Wesson wags his tail, and I give him a fry. He crunches it happily, then wanders over to Axel to steal from him, too.
“Also, you’re innocent,” Axel says, scratching Wesson’s head.
“Exactly. Anyway, I’ll lay low, sell the house, and find somewhere in the city.”
“You’re leaving?” Axel’s shoulders dip. “You just got back.”
“I can’t live here forever, Axe. I need my own life. Why don’t you come with me? Roommates!”
We both cheer, and Ranger hits the table. We fall silent.
“No one is going anywhere,” he says. “We live here.”
I stare at him. “You think I’m going to live here forever? It’s not my fault you’re scared of being alone.”
Ranger glares at me. Axel slinks out of his seat.
“On that note, I’m going to bed.” He kisses the top of my head. “Good to have you back.”
I avoid Ranger’s eye and the guilt over what I said. There’s nothing wrong with him wanting me and Axel around, but forcing it isn’t the way to go. If he holds me in place for too long, then one slip means I’ll shoot away as quickly as possible.
“So, about me leaving?—”
“You’re not going anywhere,” he snaps. “Your father would be disappointed that you left in the first place.”
“I’m pretty sure that out of the two of us, he’d be most disappointed in you,” I say, abandoning my meal and standing. “Unless he always wanted his best friend and little girl shacking up?”
His hand darts out, and he grips my wrist. “You’re a grown woman. If you can’t take responsibility for who you fuck, then you shouldn’t be fucking anyone.”
“And what about you?”
He stared up at me. “What about me?”
“Do you take responsibility for what we did?”
“That depends.” He leans back in his chair. “Are we talking about the sex or the bullet in your husband’s brain?”
My throat tightens. I sometimes forget just how cruel he can be.
“I hate you,” I say. “I’ll kill you myself one day.”
“No, you won’t, Denver. I’m the only person left in this world who loves you.”
“Then why are you so cruel to me?” I sound like a child, lashing out at a punishment I probably deserve.
He pulls me onto his knee, and locks his arms around me. “I’m harsh because it’s what you need.” I don’t meet his eye, and he tilts my face toward him. “If I have to hurt you to help you, I’ll do it.”
Being this close to him makes his words sound like love. But he’s unashamedly admitting he’d control me to keep me happy, and that isn’t love. It’s obsession.
Ranger runs the tips of his fingers across my jaw. “Promise me you won’t leave me again, little bird.”
His touch does what it always has—ignites something dangerous and dark within me. I nod quietly.
“I’d die without you.”
The words send my heart into a frenzy because he means them. He means them so ardently that I can’t breathe, and while my body heats, my heart hopes. It’s dangerous to want to be loved so intensely, but at least obsession isn’t fleeting.
“I won’t leave you.”
He kisses my cheek. “Good girl.”
“But I’ll never be with you.”
He may mean his declarations of love to me, but I mean my refusals, too. I saw what loving my father did to my mother. I saw the late nights pacing, the bloodstained shirts she washed, the fear—the deep, impenetrable fear whenever we were all out together. I won’t live that life. I want a family, I want freedom, and Ranger can offer neither.
I expect him to tense, but amusement sparks in his eye. “Is that so?” His arrogance has me wriggling to escape his grasp, but he holds onto me firmly, his lips close to my ear. “Denver…” And I melt. His voice has me leaning into him. Into the feel of his warm breath on my skin. Hating myself for my weakness, but not knowing how to be any other way with him. “Do you want me to bend you over this table and make you scream until that pretty throat of yours is sore?”
The throbbing between my thighs radiates further, tightening my nipples and clenching my toes—but I won’t let my body decide something for my heart. “Fucking you doesn’t mean I love you.”
“No. Loving me means you love me. And as for never being with me?” He kisses below my ear. “It’s cute that you think I’ll allow you to be anything other than my wife before this year is up.”
I light another cigarette and snuggle deeper under the blanket. I have a bottle of wine, my phone is on my lap, and Ethan’s number is open. Day one of being home, and I’m already considering drunk dialing the one guy I should least consider drunk dialing.
I miss his laugh, his closeness, his smile. I’d give anything to be with him right now. I’d give anything to be away from here. But he’s better off away from me. Everyone is.
“Wyatt definitely was.” I snort a laugh, the first half of the bottle of wine taking root. I pour myself another glass, gazing at the view from the terrace.
“Talking to yourself?” Axel drops onto the loveseat and puts his arm around me. “Who’s Ethan?”
I lock my phone. “No one.”
He tickles me. “Denver has a boyfriend.”
I laugh. “Shut up. Have you been asleep all day?”
“Yep. Out all night fucking women, doing drugs, just going absolutely wild.”
“Drugs?” I ask. “Tell me you’re kidding.”
“Okay, I exaggerated on that part. As if your life lessons could ever leave me. ‘Drugs are for losers, Axel!’” he says, imitating my voice.
I point my cigarette at him. “Words to live by.”
He pulls me close. “I missed you. Please don’t leave me again. It’s been fucking awful here.”
I lean my head on his shoulder. “I’m sorry. It’s been that bad?”
“Worse than when Mom left.”
I inwardly grimace, chewing the inside of my lip to keep my face neutral. I’d heard how bad things got here when Angelina, Ranger’s ex-wife, had disappeared, leaving her son and husband behind. The reason for her leaving is obvious—Ranger didn’t love his wife. He once told me he married her because he believed it to be the right thing to do. When he met my father and was thrown into this world, his power and presence grew, and Angelina withdrew. Then, one day, she left, and despite Ranger’s indifference, he raged at her betrayal—because her young, attractive bodyguard had left with her. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what had happened.
I say, “We’ll get out someday.”
“What will we do?” he asks.
I smile, putting out the cigarette while I think about my answer. This is a game we’ve played countless times. When it was late, and Ranger was asleep or gone, we’d make s’mores on the terrace and talk about what we’d do if we weren’t here. Our imaginary plans have become more and more elaborate over time.
“I would learn to yodel,” I say. “And I’d move to some freezing cold place in Europe and become a famous yodeler. How about you?”
I look up at him, and he’s grinning. “I would be right there with you, but I’m ice skating. I bet I’d look great in those outfits. Deal?”
“Deal.” We fist-bump and fall quiet again.
“You should probably know,” he says. “You own Pulse now.”
I groan. “Seriously?”
He nods sadly. “I overheard him talking. You’re officially the owner of all Luxe nightclubs. Sorry.”
Ranger owns three nightclubs in the city, and I’ve never set foot in any of them. I don’t like the scene; it’s full of drugs and the elite, two things I’ve actively avoided my entire life. I know nothing about running clubs, but apparently, that’s what I’m doing now.
“Denver?”
I look at him. “Yeah?”
“Did you do it?”
I wish I’d kept the cigarette lit so I could focus on something other than the look he gives me. Of all the things his father has done, and it’s the worst kept secret in the world what Ranger does, it’s me who Axel would be most disappointed in if I failed him. He expects more. I expect more of myself, too.
“No,” I say.
“Promise?”
I nod. “I promise.”
“Good. I don’t want him to have anything over you.” He hugs me tightly, and I listen to his heartbeat. “I’m going back to bed. I need at least twenty hours.”
Axel leaves, and I finish my wine and wander upstairs to my room. I rub my arms, the chill sitting on my skin, goosebumps cascading over me as I stare at my bed. I don’t want to get into it. I don’t want to sleep alone. And the last bed I was in in this house was Ranger’s.
I haven’t slept in this room in years, but I’m back as if no time has passed. The bedding has been washed but not changed to another style. The makeup is still on my vanity, free of dust or cobwebs. It’s a shrine, a tomb waiting to be reopened. Like Ranger always knew I’d come back.
Someone knocks on the open door, and I face it.
“The Grim Reaper. What news do you have for me?” I ask, sitting on the bed.
Ranger steps into my room and closes the door. I sit up, a ripple of anxiety lifting the hairs on my arms. Alone with him. Again.
“I don’t like arguing with you.”
My shoulders soften. “What?”
His jaw tenses, and he won’t meet my eye. “Being away from you these last few months has been… unpleasant. Now that you’re back, I don’t want to fight.”
I wet my lips, heart pounding, terrified of falling victim to pretty words.
“Then why are you doing this to me?”
Ranger stares at me, his jaw so tight I think his teeth might crack. He runs a hand across his mouth. “You’ll have to expand on that ridiculous question.”
I grip the covers. “Are you going to force me to be part of this?”
His eyes darken. “Part of what?”
“This… this mess. The mess you made!” I cry. “You knew exactly what you were doing that night, you?—”
“You want to talk about this now? Fine.” He closes the gap between us. “You can tell yourself it was my fault, but it was all you, Denver. You asked for this.”
“You manipulated me.”
“ I manipulated you ?” A cold smile spreads across his face. “When has anyone ever been able to manipulate you ? You’re the queen of that. You’ve been doing it to me for years.”
I stand. “Just because you’ve invented a relationship in your head?—”
“ Invented ?” He bellows the word, but I refuse to flinch. “Don’t you fucking stand there and say it was fake. You used Wyatt because you knew you wanted me, but your goddamn conscience wouldn’t let you be with me. All those nights you’d come to me, looking for comfort, looking for what he couldn’t give you. Just because I didn’t fuck you doesn’t mean it wasn’t real.”
I slap him. He turns his face, and when he meets my eye, I see a world of rage I could never fight.
“Hit me again. I fucking dare you.”
My pride won’t let me back down. Adrenaline hisses through me like water across freshly forged steel, and I slap him again. He seizes my wrists, forcing me onto the bed.
“I won’t hit you, Denver, but I can still hurt you,” he says, pressing my hands into the covers. “I can still remind you of every terrible thing that happened that night. Washing the blood out of your hair. Asking me about gun residue. Your ears kept ringing, didn’t they? Gunshots are loud in a place like that.”
“Shut up!” I scream.
He stands. “When all is said and done, Denver, he’s dead. You’re still here. Stop being fucking weak.”
I rise and push him. “You think I’m weak? You’re the one who follows me around like a puppy. You may as well be on your knees just like he was!”
The dark of his eyes become pits of flame, the anger in him so visible that I step back.
“Is that what you want?” he asks. “To see me like Wyatt? On my knees and begging?”
He takes my gun out of the nightstand and pushes it into my hands. I whimper when he gets to his knees, seizing my wrist and pressing the muzzle against his forehead.
I’m sobbing, but he keeps my hand steady.
“Go on. Do it,” he says. “You hate me? Fix it. Kill Ranger Luxe on his knees. You’ll be a fucking hero.”
I wipe my tears with my free hand and flick off the safety. My hand still shakes, but he releases my wrist.
“I won’t beg for my life like he did,” he says. “I won’t be on my knees and lie to save my life like he did.”
I tense my finger on the trigger.
But I…
I can’t.
“Can’t do it?” he asks. I’m trembling, teeth gritted, tears flowing freely down my cheeks. “Then kill yourself,” he says, moving the gun to my temple. “Because that’s as good as killing me.”
The cold metal against my temple is soothing. My world is closing in, one decision at a time, but hasn’t it always been this way? Haven’t I always belonged to him? And deep down, buried in the darkest depths of my soul, beneath dreams and morals and romantic ideals, don’t I want him to own me? For all my tough words and desperations to not be like my parents, I’m still here, aren’t I? In Ranger’s house, with his name.
I’m starting to forget how to be anywhere else.
My hand drops, and the gun thumps against the carpet. Ranger pulls me to him, and I sob, wrapping my arms around his neck.
“I don’t care if you hate me,” he whispers. “I wasn’t going to stand by and let Wyatt kill you.” I squeeze my eyes closed, the words still painful even months on. “I’m not going anywhere. So, you get used to it or get rid of me. Those are your options.”
He places me on my side on the bed, lying behind me and pulling my back to his chest.
What am I supposed to do? How am I supposed to survive this alone? I can’t. Without Ranger, I’d have fallen into despair. I wouldn’t have survived my marriage if he hadn’t stepped in to stop Wyatt.
With his arms wrapped around me, my sobs subside. He kisses my shoulder softly, and I close my eyes.
“I’m still glad you’re home,” he says.
Home.
Is this home?
It feels like hell.