Chapter 21 #2
Probably the night he held me and let me unravel, then spent hours putting together a pain-in-the-ass security system without any expectations of something in return.
It felt good to be taken care of. Even if that care came at the expense of my ethical clarity.
"I don't know that I have mommy issues," I continue, hoping to steer clear of the other thing Skyler called me out for. "I just think my mother has issues and I'm the only child that speaks to her so they all fall on my shoulders."
"None of your siblings do?" he asks.
I bark out a laugh, though none of it is fucking funny, "Husband number five was husband number four's son-in-law first."
His jaw drops in horror, "You're kidding."
"I'm not." The reminder of it makes me sick with guilt.
From that moment on, I couldn't blame the rest of them for abandoning the sinking ship that was our family.
Not a single one of my siblings even speaks to each other, thanks to years of her wedging us apart with competition and comparisons. "God, I wish I was."
"Not to pry, but if she's so terrible, why do you still deal with her?" he asks me a question I've asked myself more than once over the years. Even earlier today, in fact.
I blow out a breath, hoping the heavy emotions in my chest might go with it.
They don't.
"I don't... I don't have anybody else," the confession spills out, the humiliation of it turning my stomach sour.
I'm not sure why I'm the one feeling guilty about it.
It's not my fault that my mom skips from marriage to marriage, city to city, and dragged me along with her until I was old enough to leave.
But I never got to build a relationship with anyone.
Never learned what a family is supposed to look like.
"She's never hit me. Never let anyone else hurt me either.
She may not have been a mom, but she's still the only constant I've ever had.
Even though she constantly lets me down, she's still there.
How could I leave behind the only person who's ever stuck around? "
He doesn't speak for a minute, giving me the gift of his silence to think through what I've just admitted out loud. How utterly pathetic it sounds that I accept the crumbs of my mom's love just because I have nothing better to compare it to.
"You're a better person than me," he says finally.
I laugh, though the sound is hollow, stilted, "I hate to tell you this, Cormac, but that was never up for debate."
His grin as he looks at me is both feral and full of wonder. Like he's just discovered a new, glorious prey he'd like to chase around for a while before devouring it.
The full force of his attention, even just for a few seconds before it returns to the road, leaves me scattered in the wind, struggling to stay on solid ground.
Finally, we pull into a parking lot outside of town, tall wooden buildings, silos, and flowers as far as the eye can see out into the field.
Towering overhead on the stunning, dark oak main building is the same logo I saw the night I met Cormac, blown up to a monstrous size, just above the twin doors and awning that act as the entrance.
As I'm stuck taking in the beauty around me, the array of purples and blues and pinks surrounding the meticulously crafted artistic buildings that add to the landscape instead of detracting from it, Cormac silently slides out of the car, appearing at my door to let me out.
I can't even bear to give him any attention yet, lost in the scenery around us.
"It's cool, huh?" he asks, once again guiding me forward with a warm palm on my spine.
Cool doesn't even begin to describe it.
It's mind-blowing; a tapestry of florals far into the distance.
"We needed flowers that survive the cold and attract bees without disrupting the natural ecosystem,” he offers as an explanation.
"We outsource some of our honey when we're doing flavors and seasonal stuff, but most of it comes from right here.
" He points at a building a few hundred feet away, "That's where the bees do their thing.
It's expanded a ton over the last few years.
I won't bore you with all the details of harvesting and beekeeping.
But during Spring, when the bees and butterflies are most active, this place is paradise. "
"A land full of bees is your paradise?" I ask.
He pushes me forward again, "It was. Now I think my idea of paradise is a little different."
"Mmm," I hum. "Bees and murder."
He chuckles but doesn't disagree, pulling a key from his pocket to let us into the main building.
"I had the staff take today off," he tells me as the lock clicks open. "So we'll have the whole place to ourselves."
What?
No. I can't be here alone with Cormac.
My heart starts racing.
I was already losing my mind just being trapped in the car with him, his molten amber eyes and sharp canines— the ones that I constantly wonder how they'll feel dragging across my skin.
Not to mention, his cologne that makes me lose all sense and his warm, calloused hands— and fuck, his tattoos that have no reason being as hot as they are when they're a reflection of the monster that wears them.
"Relax, Brigit,” he opens the door, walking inside to dismantle the alarm system. "You're not in any danger, I promise."
I am 100% in danger.
Just not in the way that he's thinking.
I'm not worried he's going to hurt me.
I'm worried I'm going to let him.
That I'll be begging for his touch, even if it comes with the risk of more danger trailing behind me and eventually catching up.
I'm not afraid of him.
I mean, I am. But, more than that, I'm afraid of who I might be with him. What morals I might compromise, what I'd allow even when I know it's unethical.
“Hey,” he flicks on the lights before coming to stand in front of me, wrapping his hands around my upper arms, watching me with a worried wrinkle between his brows. “What’s wrong?”
"Why are we here?" I ask.
He eases my hair over my shoulder, running his thumb across my thrumming artery, so similar to the first night in my kitchen, and yet, everything about it feels different now.
It's no longer a threat of violence, but a threat of the inevitable fall. And that's infinitely scarier.
"I just wanted to show you what I do remember of who I was before everything," he explains, watching his finger graze my pulse. "This is the only place that still feels like it belongs to me, not who I became."
When his eyes meet mine, I can almost forget who this man is.
But that's a reckless road to go down, and one that I know I shouldn’t.
Skyler's words echo back in my head. Why are you so afraid of the possibility?
But fear isn't always a bad thing. Sometimes it keeps us safe.
And I desperately need mine to do that now, but the longer I’m in Cormac’s presence, the more sure I become that it won’t.