10. Cara #3
“You always think that,” I tell him.
“I know,” he says.
“No, Falcon. You keep saying that.” The words escape before I can stop them. “They attacked this house because they knew where the club’s attention would go. You said it yourself. You knew they were trying to draw people away from the compound.”
The colour drains from his face. “I know.”
“And you went anyway,” I remind him.
“Yes,” Falcon admits.
He has no defence, and somehow, that makes it worse.
“I’m sorry,” he says, his voice rough.
A laugh escapes me, but it’s an awful, broken sound. “Do you know what I kept thinking while Emily was bleeding? I kept thinking the club would come.”
“They did,” Falcon says quietly.
Ice Pick came. Sterling came. Knox came. Every man who was supposed to be here showed up. Except Falcon.
“I know,” he whispers.
“Stop saying that,” I snap.
Falcon flinches.
Good. No, not good. I don’t want to hurt him. I only want him to understand.
“I spent five years waiting for you to come through a door,” I tell him. “Today, when that door opened, part of me thought it would be you.”
“Cara,” Falcon says, pain cutting through my name.
“It wasn’t,” I finish.
His eyes shine. I've never seen Falcon cry, not once, and somehow that makes this angrier instead of softer, because I love him, God help me I still love him, and that's exactly why this hurts.
"I can't do this," I say.
His face goes completely still. "What?"
"I can't love somebody while I'm waiting for him to decide that dying for me is the same thing as living with me."
He looks like I hit him. Maybe I did.
"I wasn't trying to die," he says quietly.
"I know, that's the problem." My voice breaks. "You do it because you believe it makes you good. Loyal. Protective. Whatever you want to call it, but it makes everyone who loves you wait."
He looks at the floor. "I'm trying."
“I know,” I say.
I’ve had enough. I can’t keep going through this because it hurts me too.
“I’ve seen the changes,” I continue. “I meant what I said the other night. You are trying.”
“Then don’t do this,” Falcon pleads.
“I have to,” I tell him.
“Why?” he asks.
“Because I was starting to trust you.”
Pain flashes across Falcon’s face, and I almost take the words back.
Almost.
“That’s why this matters,” I finish.
He nods slowly, as if he’s understanding the distinction in real time. “This isn’t punishment. It’s a boundary.”
“I can’t build my safety around whether you make the right decision next time,” I tell him.
“You shouldn’t,” Falcon replies immediately.
The speed of his answer catches me off guard.
“Don’t agree with me,” I snap.
A broken smile touches his mouth. “Would you rather I lie?”
“No,” I admit.
“Then you’re right,” he says.
Falcon looks exhausted in a way that has nothing to do with his injuries.
“I fucked up,” he says.
“Yes,” I confirm.
“Emily got hurt,” he continues.
“Yes,” I repeat.
“And you needed me here.”
“Yes,” I say again.
Every answer cuts, but I give him the truth anyway.
“I don’t know how to fix that,” Falcon admits.
“You don’t,” I tell him.
His eyes lift. "I can't be the thing you fix," I say. "You have to figure out why you still believe being the man who runs toward every threat means more than being the man who stays."
There’s just silence. He looks toward the open front door, his brothers are moving outside, his family, the men who were actually here tonight.
"I'm done, Falcon." I shake my head.
The words hurt before I finish saying them. He goes still.
"Not forever. I don't know what forever is anymore. But right now, I can't do this with you."
His jaw tightens. "Okay."
That's all. There’s no argument, no demand, and no promise to change. Just okay, and somehow that hurts more than a fight would have. I look away. The ambulance siren fades with Emily inside it, and I need to be there instead of here.
"I need to go," I say.
He steps aside. "I know."
I walk past him. He doesn't touch me. At the front door Vulture's coming up the steps, he looks at my face, then at Falcon behind me, and understands enough not to ask.
"Escort's ready," he says. "Frankie and Sarah can go with you. Knox is already at the hospital."
"Thank you." I’m grateful.
"Ice is driving." I nod.
Vulture catches my arm gently before I step outside. "This wasn't your fault."
My throat tightens. "I know."
He raises an eyebrow.
Apparently the phrase is infecting everyone now. "I'm working on believing it."
"Good," he says.
I head for the waiting SUV. Frankie's already inside, Sarah beside her, Ice Pick is behind the wheel.
"Ready?" he asks.
"No."
"Figured."
He starts the engine. As we pull away nobody promises everything will be fine, nobody promises Emily will be okay, nobody promises Falcon and I will find our way back to whatever we were. They just stay with me. Frankie takes my hand. Sarah leans against my shoulder. Ice Pick drives.
This is my family. Not a man riding alone into danger, not a promise that nobody will ever get hurt, but people who stay when it happens anyway.
I close my eyes, and for the first time, I understand the difference.