6. Rafe
RAFE
Her eyes go unfocused and she passes out.
For fuck’s sake.
Six years. Six long years I’ve kept my distance. Now I break all my rules, shatter my resolve, take the biggest risk of my existence, to stand and watch her faint at the mere sight of me.
God, what a mess.
I lunge forward. She slumps and I catch her before she can land in broken glass on the floor. The girl must be asleep upstairs. I wonder if she’ll wake from this noise? June’s daughter. Our?—
I don’t let myself go there.
Touching her is bad. I told myself I wouldn’t. This was meant to be a check-in. A conversation at most. Hello, how are you, good, good, have a nice life. Now I have her in my arms, the woman I’ve dreamed about a thousand times over the last six years.
Every bit as beautiful as I remember.
Fuck, this is wrong. This was a mistake. I place her gently on a chair and get an icepack from the freezer. I press it against the back of her neck. “Come back to me, doll,” I say and that nickname is like a dagger in my guts.
I haven’t touched another woman since that night. I haven’t called anyone doll.
Not since her.
Her eyes flutter and open. She gazes at me in wonder as I keep the icepack in place. “Rafe?” she croaks. “You’re really here.”
“I’m here, doll. You made a mess.”
“I didn’t—“ She frowns and looks at the floor. “Oh, no. I should—“ She tries to rise but I push her back down.
“I’ll do it. Stay there. Hold this.” I guide her hand to the pack. She takes over with a sigh.
There’s a broom and dustpan in the closet. I make quick work of the shards. June watches, saying nothing.
When was the last time I did sweeping?
Not in years. Not since those early days after the fire, most likely. I’ve encased myself in walls of power. The Don does not scrub floors. The image creates the reality.
Funny how I’m reduced to this for her.
Once the glass is swept, I lower myself into the chair across from her.
“Are you sure you got everything?” June glances away. “Hattie likes to walk barefoot.”
I hold up a hand, my heart racing. My mouth goes dry. What am I doing? What the fuck is wrong with me?
Hearing that name sends my chest into convulsions.
“I don’t want to talk about her.”
“About… my daughter?”
My jaw works. The way she said that. My daughter… “This was a mistake. I should go.”
“Wait.” She reaches out and puts a hand on my arm. “Please.”
Fuck. That word. It breaks me. Please.
Years I kept my distance, but that photograph changed everything. Now I’m here because I’m a weak, pathetic man, unable to keep my own promises.
I swore I’d never approach them.
The night I found out the truth, I took an oath on the graves of my family that I would never, ever let these two go to ruin, no matter what it cost me.
No matter the pain of watching from a distance.
I run my thumb over my knuckles. Ashes. That’s all I ever bring. That’s all I’ve ever known.
And here I am, sitting in their kitchen.
Doing exactly what I never wanted.
Ruining their life.
“I want to ask you some questions.”
“I have a million for you, too. Like, how did you?—“
I cut her off. “We aren’t talking about that.”
“But Rafe?—“
“I mean it, June. This is important. Please, listen.” I lean closer and lower my voice. “Over the past few days, have you noticed anything strange?”
She chews her left pinky. I read uncertainty and fear in her eyes. Slowly she nods. “I thought I was going crazy.”
“Tell me.”
“I’ve noticed men. It’s weird, you know? We live in the city and there are people all over the place. But it’s like… they were following me? And there was a car parked outside my place.”
“Describe them and the vehicle, please.”
“Am I in trouble? What’s going on?”
“Please, June. Tell me what you can.”
She places the icepack down in her lap and gives me generic information. A black car. Rough-looking individuals. Nothing that rings a bell or makes it clear who sent me that photograph or who might be keeping an eye on her.
But one thing’s certain.
She’s been found, and now she’s in danger.
“I thought I was going crazy, but it’s real, isn’t it? People really are following me?”
“It’s possible. I can’t be sure yet.”
“Why? And what does it have to do with you?”
I open my mouth but shut it again. This girl… this beautiful girl…
She has no fucking idea who and what I am.
Do I want to tell her here? In this nice kitchen? In the middle of this safe life she built for herself and her daughter?
The longer I sit at her table, the more I’m sure I’m defiling this space.
“You don’t have to worry.” The lie comes out easily enough. Better to keep her calm than to give her the truth: your life is in danger and it’s because of me. “I’ll keep an eye on things.”
“I don’t even understand what’s going on.”
I stand and back away. She goes to come after me, but sinks into her chair again with a grunt, the icepack spilling to the floor.
It takes all my power not to rush to her side.
That won’t help. Touching her, making sure she’s okay—that won’t help at all.
“Nothing will change in your life. Go about your business like you always do. Don’t think about this again.”
“But Rafe, wait?—“
“It’s better this way. I’m sorry, doll. I told myself I wouldn’t bother you, but…”
“Hattie’s upstairs.” She says it fast. Like if she doesn’t rush the words, she might swallow them down. “She asked about you a few weeks ago.”
My chest aches. It hurts in a way I haven’t experienced in a long time, not since that night standing beside the wreckage of my family’s home. I turn my back on June and steel myself.
“One last question. Have you been with anyone?”
It slips out before I can stop myself. Weak, weak, weak, fucking pathetic.
But she only laughs. “Seriously?”
“I want to know.”
“I tried once. I had a boyfriend a few years back, but it didn’t work out. Why are you even asking?”
“I don’t know,” I admit and stalk to the back door.
She calls my name again, tries to get up and follow me, but I disappear into the night.
I vault her back fence into the alley behind and walk fast, aimless, jaw so tight it feels like I might bite through my own teeth, until I find myself a dozen blocks south.
I pause to catch my breath.
What the fuck was that? Asking about men?
I knew about the boyfriend already. That was stupid and selfish of me.
I find my phone in my hand. The number rings and I start to think he won’t pick up until Cassian’s voice comes through on the other end, distant and staticky. “I told Silas already,” he growls, “I’m not taking jobs right now.”
“Cass, where are you?”
A short pause. “Don’t worry about that.”
“The connection’s bad.”
“Satellite phone. Are we done?”
“I need your help.”
Another longer pause. I wonder if the line went dead, but the static’s still there. My brother finally answers. “What do you need?”
I tell him about June. It spills out in a flow I can’t staunch. “I need you to keep an eye on her until my plans are ready.”
“You’re in a bad situation, brother.”
“I know.”
“It’s not like you.”
“I’m aware.”
“I would’ve expected this from Silas or maybe Devlin, but you?—“
“I know, Cassian.” I keep the anger from my tone. I can handle some chiding. Hell, I deserve worse. “Will you help?”
“I can be there in a few hours.”
Relief floods me. I close my eyes and let out a long breath. “Thank you.”
“It’s not for you, asshole. It’s for my baby niece.”
He hangs up.
I stare at my hands. His words like the roar of a waterfall in my skull.
His baby niece.
My daughter.