26. Chloe
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHLOE
THEN
ELEVEN YEARS AGO
Losing Caroline shouldn’t have come as a surprise.
She never made a secret of how miserable she was, even going so far as to ask Salvatore to end her pain.
And yet the grief doesn’t seem to end. It’s a living, breathing being inside my chest, a constant reminder of how easily our time can be up.
I’ve tried to stay strong for Ronan, and in my own way, for Damon too. He won’t let me be there the same way I can be for his brother, but their mom would want me to be there for both of them, and so that’s what I’m doing.
When I reached for Damon’s hand as the casket lowered into the ground, I did so expecting him to pull away.
But he didn’t, and the stupid organ inside my chest couldn’t help but be hopeful that maybe he doesn’t hate me the way he wants me to believe.
The Lombardi plot sits in the center of the cemetery, a place for the next several generations to rest in peace. The headstones are ostentatious and unnecessary but in line with what I’ve come to expect from crime families.
Damon doesn’t drop my hand as Ronan leads us toward the grave, two roses clutched in his hand. One for him and one for me, while Damon holds his own.
There’s a finality to this moment, to saying goodbye one last time.
The funeral planning is done, the montage of her life ready to be played back at the compound, and all that remains is the grief of losing someone so close to each of us.
Ronan repositions me under his arm, passing me a rose once one of my hands is free.
“Thank you,” I murmur gratefully.
The three of us are under a microscope. Salvatore watches every move we make, frustration dancing on his brow.
My parents’ eyes are filled with worry. And those closest to the family watch with so much interest I would have dropped Damon’s hand if he weren’t clutching it like his life depends on the contact.
We pause at the edge of the grave, staring down at the deep burgundy coffin below. Salvatore fought against the color, but Caroline specifically requested it. We wanted her final resting place to be exactly as she wanted.
Blinking away the tears that threaten to fall, I struggle to remain composed. I can break later, when I’m not surrounded by people that want to see me fall.
Ronan and I whisper goodbyes, my chest aching with emotion, but when Damon doesn’t drop his rose on top of the coffin, I glance up at him.
His hand clutches mine so tight it borders on pain, while the other strangles the stem of the rose. Droplets of blood seep through his fingers, the thorns cutting into his hand, but you’d never know from his stony expression.
“Damon?” I say softly, breaking him from his trance.
His ice-blue eyes drop to mine, and the hatred I’ve become so familiar with returns. “Fuck this,” he mutters, throwing the rose into the grave without uttering a word to his mother, and then he’s gone.
He shoves through the line of mourners behind us, ignoring his father’s cold expression as he makes his way in the opposite direction to the cars.
Ronan curses, gently guiding me away from the grave, only pausing when we’re beneath a tree away from the majority of the crowd.
“Do you want to go after him?” I ask softly, turning my body into his and wrapping my arms around his torso.
“He won’t listen to me. He won’t listen to anyone.” He sighs. “I thought when he let you take his hand he was finally letting someone in. But then…” He trails off, not needing to finish the thought because we were both there.
Pressing my eyes closed, I drag a calming breath into my lungs, trying not to focus on his latest rejection.
Damon has been breaking my heart for years, but I’m too raw from my grief to handle the latest crack.
“You should go,” he says. “Maybe he’ll listen to you.”
“Ro, he hates me. He’s made no secret of that. What makes you think he’ll listen to a single word I have to say?”
“He doesn’t hate you.”
We’ve had this argument so many times over the last few years, but no matter how much he insists that his brother could never hate me, I know the truth.
I’ve seen the disdain staring back at me whenever our eyes lock, and I stopped trying to mend something Damon has no interest in repairing a long time ago.
“Try,” he pleads. “For me.”
There’s a part of me, and not a small part, that wants to deny him, but if there’s one person in this world I can’t say no to, it’s Ronan.
I nod with a sigh, glancing at the hill he disappeared over.
“Thank you, Sparrow,” he murmurs, dropping a sweet kiss to my temple before releasing me.
Not bothering to look back at the funeral site, I trace Damon’s steps with my heart hammering in my chest.
There was a time when I found comfort in his company, when I craved it. But not anymore. Now I dread every interaction, knowing I’m the last person Damon wants to see at the best of times, but especially now.
My heels sink into the damp grass the further I walk between headstones, and it’s not until I’m about to turn back that I see him.
He leans against a tree, a lit cigarette between his fingers, but he makes no move to take a drag. His eyes are locked on something ahead of him, and I can’t tell if he doesn’t notice me or if he’s choosing to ignore my approach.
He finally glances up when I’m just a few feet away, and for a split second, the veil of indifference drops. The look of contempt I’ve become so familiar with is nowhere to be seen, and he seems almost relieved to see me.
“What do you want, Chloe?” he snaps.
“Ronan wanted me to check that you were okay.”
“I’m fine. You can go now.” He looks away from me, once again staring into the distance.
I sigh, taking a few steps closer. “No one would blame you for not being okay. You just lost your mother. It’s normal to mourn.”
“I lost my mother years ago. She should have died in that accident. It would have been a far kinder fate than the one she was forced to live.”
I bite down on my lip and lean against the tree across from him, putting us just feet apart.
Being so close to him makes my stomach roll uncomfortably.
I don’t think Damon would hurt me, not physically at least, but I’ve seen how Salvatore trains him, how ruthless he teaches his sons to be, especially Damon.
If he had his way, both his sons would be cold, unfeeling robots, just like him.
“You can tell Ronan I’m fine. I don’t know what made him think I would want to talk to you.” He spits the word like it’s personally offended him, and no matter how hard I try to swallow the pain his hatred brings, tears gather at the corners of my eyes.
“Neither do I,” I admit, turning away from him before he can see the tears ready to fall against my cheeks.
“Just stay away from me, Chloe. We aren’t friends, we aren’t family.
You’re just my brother’s girlfriend who I can barely stand to look at.
” His words cut so deep that agony slices through my chest. Knowing someone I care so deeply for thinks so little of me hurts more than I can ever describe, but by the time I get the courage to look at him, he’s gone.
For the millionth time since the night I watched him kill an innocent man, I promise myself that I’m done trying.