31. Lily
31
LILY
T he last place I expected to find myself after the funerals was in the chapel at the compound, playing unwilling witness to a prolonged stare off between the two men who recently let me down. Zeke sits with his back to the double doors. At the head of the table, directly opposite, is my dad. He’s gripping the handle of his gavel so hard his knuckles are white. The tension radiating from him seems misplaced, since Zeke and I are the ones who’ve been forced to meet with him.
We definitely didn’t come under our own volition.
My dad refused to open the compound to the mourners waiting to get inside to celebrate the men who gave their lives for me unless we gave him an audience. I didn’t want to see him, or deal with Zeke any more than I already had today, yet I couldn’t allow my issues to impact the Shamrocks any more than they already have.
I capitulated.
“I thought you only broke your leg in the crash. What happened to your face?” My tone is harsh when I speak, but I don’t care. My father forfeited his right to my concern when he used me to close his deal with Joseph Kingsley. “Must be painful… doesn’t look like you slipped shaving, that’s for sure.”
My father sneers at me, then he drops his lip back into place and presses his hand to the long white bandage that curls upward along his left cheek. On the opposite side sits exactly the same bandage, only mirror imaged. I drum my fingernails against the solid wood table and swing in my seat when he doesn’t answer me.
“A Glasgow grin? How quaint.”
Neither man reacts.
“Tough audience,” I grumble under my breath when the silent standoff between my father and my fiancé— ex-fiancé —stretches on, despite my goading. “Listen… as much as I’m enjoying being trapped in a dark room with the last two men on earth I want to speak to, I’m guessing you both have something to say that I apparently need to hear.” Directing my focus to my father when Zeke refuses to meet my searching gaze, I add. “Talk, or I’m out of here.”
“Is this separation permanent?” Dad asks.
With my elbows propped on the table and my fingers steepled beneath my chin, I glare at Zeke. He drops his attention from my dad to the table. My anger is palpable, a living beast as I seethe, “I don’t know… maybe you should ask the prick who ditched me without an explanation what he has planned for the future? He doesn’t give me much say in things these days.”
Zeke lifts his gaze from his studious inspection of the oak surface to mine. His expression is blank as he says, “It’s permanent.”
The coldness in his voice freezes the blood in my veins. My pulse whooshes in my ears. I swallow down the bile that invades my throat and force myself to stand. My legs are a little shaky, but my step is sure as I stride toward the doors.
Of course, I have to pass by Zeke to exit.
The universe is obviously against me.
“Well, there you have it,” I declare, determined to have the last word. “Almost six years wasted.”
When I draw near to Zeke, I hold my breath so I don’t inhale his cologne. The last thing I need is to have him stuck in my head. It’s bad enough that I can remember every word he ever said. Every promise he ever made. Every time he vowed he’d always love me. How he begged me to trust him. I don’t need my memories compounded by his unique scent warping my brain.
Zeke takes hold of my wrist and tugs me to a stop. Hope swells within my chest, optimism that he quickly douses with a solid dose of reality. “I’ll have your things sent to Slash’s. The house is going on the market next week.”
“Great.” I yank my arm free of his grip. “Just fucking great. Why don’t you just set it on fire instead? That’ll get rid of all traces of me even quicker.”
It takes every ounce of strength I possess to stop myself from running out of the chapel. I make it to the empty main bar, maintaining a steady, if jerky, pace before I sag to my knees. Struggling to catch my breath, I close my eyes and hide my face in my hands. In this position, a small twinge in my ribs reminds me that I’m nowhere near one hundred percent yet. So far, I’ve been lucky. The damage to my body is healing well. Bebe has been impressed with my improvement.
The only problem with the restoration of my appearance is that it hides how my insides are deteriorating by the second.
Red-raw and bleeding.
Blistered after being incinerated by Zeke’s rejection.
Infected with loneliness.
My outsides might be returning to normal.
It’s an illusion.
My head and my heart are shutting down.
My desire to cut is stalking me with the intensity of a hungry mountain lion.
“One second at a time,” I whisper to myself.
The mantra from my therapy sessions feels insufficient to support me through the total annihilation of the life I’d built, yet it’s really the only way to survive right now. It takes a few minutes of repeating the sentence to calm myself enough to contemplate leaving.
My hand freezes on the door handle when I realise that I left my purse hanging over the chair I was using in the chapel. I backtrack as quietly as I can. As I go, I pray that Zeke will be gone. I know it’s a stupid wish. There’s only one way out of the clubhouse unless he jumps out a window.
That doesn’t stop me from hoping he has left already.
“No such luck,” I grumble when I stop outside the double doors that lead into the chapel.
They’re still ajar from my flouncing exit so I can hear their voices.
“I’m glad our deal seems to be gettin’ off on the right foot,” my father remarks.
The sound of palms slapping on the table and a chair falling over makes me jerk back from the gap.
Boots pound the floor, heading for me.
I’d recognise Zeke’s swagger anywhere.
He’s going to catch me listening to them.
The footsteps stop.
“Don’t get too comfortable in that seat,” Zeke comments in a voice laced with a barely suppressed promise of violence. “I might do anythin’ to protect Lily, but that doesn’t mean my patience is infinite. You’ll make a misstep. Get too big for your fuckin’ boots. Whisper sweet nothing’s in the wrong cut slut’s ear. And when you do, I’ll pounce. Only this time, it won’t just be your face I slice open… it’ll be your chest. Rippin’ that black heart free of your rib cage while it’s still beatin’ is the only thing that’s gonna make me whole after what you’ve done.”
I slap my hand over my mouth to stop my shocked gasp from being heard.
My head spins with all the possible implications of Zeke’s threats.
I slide down the wall and hug my knees to my chest.
I feel so stupid.
After all my promises to trust Zeke, I fell at the first hurdle.
I believed the worst in him without question.
Thought he was done with me.
But what if this is still part of the game we’re playing to save the Shamrocks?
As quickly as that hope dawns, it dies. The man in question stomps out of the chapel. His stride falters to a stop when he sees me. I peer up at Zeke, expecting to see something more than indifference in his expression now we’re alone. All I find is the same blank look he had when he told my father our separation is permanent.
“What are you doin’?” he demands.
“I don’t know.”
Dropping to his haunches in front of me, Zeke pinches my chin in an unforgiving grip. He tilts my head from side to side, apparently checking out how well my damage is healing. This time, I allow myself to breathe him in.
I inhale his distinctive scent.
Leather. Amber. Spice. Zeke. Home.
It settles over me like a blanket, calming my racing heart.
“Leave, Lilianna,” Zeke tells me in a voice designed to chastise an unruly child. His use of my real name turns my stomach. “You don’t have a place here anymore.”
With a hiss, I wrench my chin free of his fingers. “I hate you.”
For the first time since I laid eyes on him at the cemetery earlier this afternoon, emotion flickers in Zeke’s expression.
He smiles. “Good.”
I shove him onto his arse and run out of the clubhouse without a backward glance.
Somehow, Nadia finds me as I push my way through the people milling through the now-open gates. She takes one look at my tear-stained face and the way I’m favouring my ribs and leads me over to her little red hatchback. Once I’m ensconced in the passenger seat, she dashes around the bonnet and slides behind the wheel.
“What happened?”
“Zeke.”
“Did he say something to you?”
I hug myself around the waist as Nadia pulls out onto the main road. “Not really. Just told Dad that we’re permanently over. Nothing I didn’t already know…”
“Then why are you crying? I thought we agreed you’d play this cool—show him that you don’t care.”
“He smiled when I told him I hate him.”
My best friend stomps the brakes and careens into the next side street without using her indicator. Horns blast. Someone shouts at us. Cool as a cucumber, Nadia simply rolls to a stop, knocks the gear lever into park, then turns her entire body to face me.
“He’s hiding something,” she declares. Her eyes are wild as her mind runs through a dozen hare-brained schemes until she settles on the one she likes the most. “And you’re going to get it out of him.”
Shaking my head, I slink down in my seat. “Why would I do that? He’s made it clear he’s done with me.”
“What if he’s only pretending… like you both did when you faked your break-up to get out of the compound?”
“Fat lot of good that did.” She squeezes my hands to apologise for bringing up the not-so safe house. As her suspicion circulates through my head a couple more times, I decide she might be onto something. “He threatened my dad. They thought I’d left, and Brutus said something about a deal, then Zeke ripped him a new one.”
“Then it’s settled. You deserve answers, and I’m going to help you get them.”
“This isn’t like high school,” I caution when I spy a familiar gleam in her eye. It’s been years since I’ve seen it. “We’re twenty-three… we’re not going to be arrested if we get caught sniffing around where we shouldn’t be. We’re going to end up hanging in the Shamrocks’ bunker.”
“ Pfffft .” Nadia waves away my concerns. “Zeke mightn’t bail us out anymore, but I bet we can talk Slash or Toker into saving our bacon if it comes to it.”
Knowing that she’s going to dive plot into this headfirst, with or without me, I decide that she’s right. I do deserve answers. It’s the least Zeke can give me after the way he left things between us.
He doesn’t get to play the victim.
He doesn’t get to call the shots either.
Weeks ago, he accused me of being reckless.
It’s time I show him just how reckless I can be.
“Tell me, Nads, how should I play this?” I ask.
The grin Nadia sends my way is evil. “ Oh, that’s easy… you show the dumbarse what he’s missing. Push his buttons. Flirt your arse off in front of him. Bring some guys to the compound. Make sure you’re the life of the party. We’ll fill our calendars with all the social shit we both missed out on when we were coupled up. It’ll be fun, and I’ll be with you every step of the way.”
Just like she did more than five years ago with Alex, Nadia makes it sound easy.
Once again, I’m not quite so sure.