31. Renne
Renne
When I lived in Selnoa, I was under a lot of stress.
But at the time I didn’t realize just how much the stress damaged me as a person until I had an opportunity to recover and have an average, normal life. And by normal, I mean having a stable source of income that covers the expenses of the kind of life most people either have or want to live.
Sure, there are people like the owner of this exclusive resort island, whom I met briefly when I first arrived here (and would not want to meet again), who aim high and achieve everything they want. But I’m not one of them. Not even by a long shot.
The townhome I live in has a beach view from the master bedroom window.
The hospital where I work has day care. And night care, for that matter.
It’s absolute heaven, and I am so grateful to have been placed on this island and spared from the trial, as well as from certain death at the hands of Cassian Macarley.
Or from his brother, Endo, if Cassian couldn’t do it.
On the island, I’ve met some very nice and interesting people. I’m safe, even though the streets aren’t patrolled. In fact, I’m unsure if there are police here at all. Probably no need for them since the island’s owner scares the criminals away.
It was Hanna’s birthday today. Or it is still, if you count the evening. As agreed, Connor picked her up from day care the moment I dropped her off before my shift. I thought he would come after day care, but the staff called me to ask if Hanna’s dad could pick her up.
I didn’t correct their assumption that Connor was Hanna’s father before authorizing the pickup. I promised him he could spend her birthdays with her.
It’s nine o’clock at night, and he hasn’t returned her yet, so I worry my lip while sitting on my doorstep waiting for him to pull up.
Ten more minutes go by.
I pace the front steps, then walk to my small garden in the front, smell the roses, and touch the grass. It does nothing to calm my worries. But it doesn’t have to, because a black SUV with tinted windows finally pulls up. The back window rolls down, and I see my baby sleeping in the car seat.
When nobody gets out of the car, I take my cue.
I unlatch the small gate and walk the few steps to the car, then open the door and carefully take Hanna out. Familiar lavender of his cologne hits my senses instantly. Reflexively, I inhale deeply.
There’s a blue butterfly painted on her cheek. He took her to face painting. I bet that was fun for her.
Hanna stirs a little, but not enough to wake up. I step back and close the door, hoping Connor might come out to speak with me, but the car takes off.
The vast sea before me glistens in the moonlight. The shells and salt smell divine, and I can hear men chatting while they work at the docks. A private airplane descends toward our tiny airport.
It’s the most beautiful place I’ve ever seen. Safe. Happy. And I have everything I need for my daughter and me.
I feel ungrateful and horrible for standing here on the street, wishing for more than I have. But I miss him. I miss him so much that it hurts, when he wants nothing to do with me. I also miss Dina. I miss my parents.
I even miss the stupid city of Selnoa and the congested, terrible traffic. The grab-and-go markets, where you can get anything in five minutes. I miss the buses I used to ride when I needed to get away but couldn’t afford anything more than the ride along Selnoa’s coast.
But I accept that I can’t change the things Connor set up for me, because I trust he’s doing the best for Hanna.
Whatever is best for her is best for me too.
I want my daughter to grow up happy and loved.
She has a man she can call Dad, even if it’s only once a year.
That’s more than I thought she’d have when I brought her into this world.
I return to the townhome and put my baby in the crib so she can get a good night’s sleep.
On my way out of her room, I wipe my tears, but they keep coming, and by the time I’m downstairs in the kitchen, I’m sobbing. From the fridge, I retrieve a local beer that has twice the amount of alcohol as beers brewed elsewhere in the world.
For which I’m also grateful. I give it a twist and chug from the bottle.
A chuckle sounds.
I freeze.
“You drink like a sailor,” Connor says.
Heart hammering, I put the drink down and look in the direction of the voice. A smile replaces my tears, but drops when a shadow peels away from the shadowy corner of my kitchen. I back away as far as I can, which isn’t very far, since I bump into the oven right behind me.
The man wears a mask, which he takes off once he stands on the other side of the kitchen island.
One eye is blue. This is Declan Crossbow, not Connor. He’s wearing black on black and a vest, along with weapons. He’s the nightmare from the day he shot up the hospital. I open my mouth to say something, but no voice comes out.
“You must be wondering what I’m doing here,” he says.
A slight nod is all I can manage.
“I’m getting married tomorrow.”
I swallow. “That’s great,” I manage.
“It would be even greater if you could attend the wedding.”
“Did Dina send you?”
Declan shakes his head. “No. I came on my own because the two people I care about love you and miss you. Dina is forbidden from talking about you, and Connor is… Well, he’s just being Connor. Do you understand what I mean by that?”
“I think I do. I think I finally do. Connor wants me in his life, but he doesn’t think anyone wants him, so he’s only asking for Hanna because Hanna doesn’t hate him yet.”
Declan scrubs his face. “Correct.”
This is my chance. I’m taking it. “I’m not too proud to ask him if he would give us another chance. I’m not the kind of woman who expects a broken man to do all the work in repairing a relationship. I miss him. And Dina.”
“I’m feeling left out.”
I manage a smile. “And you.” I do not miss him. I mean, I respect the man, but he scares the shit out of me. Breaking into my house dressed in tactical gear like an assassin doesn’t help either.
Declan chuckles. “I’m playing with you.” He checks his watch.
“Um, you want a beer?” I sound ridiculous, but I don’t know what to do around Declan. He’s unnerving. I’m not sure how Dina handles this guy, but maybe he’s different around her. Less intense.
Outside, tires screech.
“That’s my cue,” Declan says and sprints out the back door, which slams shut behind him.
Footsteps pound toward the house, my front door flies open, and Connor storms into the house, gun drawn. Half his face is painted blue, matching the butterfly on Hanna’s cheek. He assesses me with a single glance and sprints after his brother. I hear muffled popping sounds.
Oh my God, he’s shooting at his brother!
I start to rush after him, but he walks back inside and closes the door quietly as if not to wake the baby.
“Motherfucker jumped the fence before I could shoot him.”
This is why Declan wore a vest. He knew Connor would come in, guns blazing.
At the back door, near the small mud room, Connor unscrews the silencer from his pistol and tucks the gun and the silencer away. He’s wearing jeans and a blue polo shirt with ketchup and paint stains all over it.
I love this man.
This is my man.
I know it like I know he won’t look at me because he’s so broken that he knows if he does, he’ll want me back. If Connor sounds complicated, it’s because he is. Loving me isn’t simple for him. It’s not even kind.
And loving him is complicated because we’re not meant to understand matters of the heart, and yet we seek to understand the heart.
We seek to justify, explain, even map the way we love someone.
Thing is that when it comes to love, there are no plans, no rules, just feelings, while trauma and loss teach us the skill of loving and appreciating people who love us back.
Which is precisely why I walk up to him and cup his cheeks, force him to look at me.
Blue eyes hood when they lock with mine.
“I shouldn’t be here,” he says.
“Yet here you are.”
“Declan forced my hand.”
“I’m glad he did. Shall I pack?”
Don’t say no. Please don’t say no.
When Connor hesitates, tears run down my cheeks.
I have to try harder with him. He’s not like the rest of us.
“Don’t deny yourself because you think you’re a monster or crazy or anything.
You can think whatever you want about yourself, but you can’t think that for me, and you can’t think instead of me.
I have a mind of my own, and I get to think whatever I want, and I’ve made up my mind about you, Connor Crossbow.
So if you nod, I’ll come with you. I’ll stay with you.
We can make us work. You and I are really good together. ”
Connor’s gaze stays sharp and a little scary, but if I can’t handle his brand of scary, then I have no business being with this man, because I sure as fuck don’t want to change him.
I didn’t fall in love with a pit bull so I could spend my life with a golden retriever.
No, thanks. I’ll take my pit bull. He’ll protect my baby and me with his life.
In turn, I’ll love him for all that he is and more.
If only he would let me.
And I’m not sure if he ever will.
“Please consider that you don’t know everything. Just for a second, consider that you don’t know how I feel about you because you’re wrong about yourself. About us.”
His thumbs swipe over my cheeks, but Connor stays quiet.
“I’m in love with you. The distance only made it worse.”
Connor frowns. “Really?”
“Yeah, really.”
He purses his lips. “You love all eight and a half inches of me?”
“I’m serious, Con.”
“Con,” he repeats. “I like how you say that.”
Just when I think I’m winning him over, he steps back.
Oh no. He’s going to leave, and I won’t see him until next year. Or ever. I eye the door, consider locking it and keeping him here so we can talk about this more. But he’s closer to the back door, so I make a split-second decision to slip past him and flip the lock.
I sprint across the kitchen and lock the front door too, then stand there with my back against it, blocking him from leaving.
Connor stares. “What…what are you doing?”
“You have to hear me out.”
“I did.”
“No, you listened, but you didn’t hear me. Your brother risked his life to come here. You can’t run from us. I locked the doors, so if you want to leave us, you have to say a proper goodbye, and if you do that, I never want to see you again. Never.” Because I can’t go through this every year.
Connor’s eyebrows draw down. “Baby, are you holding me hostage?”
I put my hands on my hips like Dina might. “Yeah, that’s exactly what I’m doing.”
Connor interlocks his fingers behind his head and bites his lip, blue eyes bright, mischievous.
“Holy fuck, Renne, if you threaten to love me despite knowing I’m a fucking monster, I’ll have to marry you. You know that, right?”
“It’s crossed my mind.”
“And?”
“And I’m holding you hostage, aren’t I?”
Connor crosses the space between us in three strides.
I expect him to pick me up and pin me against the wall, but he cradles my face in his hands instead.
His touch melts me. I close my eyes, enjoying it.
But my eyes are also closed because I don’t want to look at him again if he decides not to give us a chance.
I couldn’t stand to watch him as he breaks my heart.
He’s so beautiful that it would be like watching a fallen angel fly away without a second glance.
Soft lips close over mine. Connor moans. “I missed this. You. I missed you.”
I smile. “You did?”
“Mmhm.” Kiss. “Do you want to go upstairs? Tie me up? Treat me like a hostage?”
“Um, if that makes your heart happy.”
“It doesn’t.” He scoops me up with an arm under my knees and the other supporting my back and carries me upstairs. “But you might just torture me.”
“I don’t want to torture you.”
In my bedroom, he puts me down and scrunches up his nose. “Baby, do you want to make another porn?”
“I never got to watch the first one.”
“Is that a yes?” Connor asks, looking like he swallowed a grapefruit.
“Oh no. What did you do?”
Connor walks over to my vanity, which is right across my bed, and tucks his hand behind one of the lights. He pulls out a tiny device. “Don’t tell me that’s a camera.”
“I’m not,” he says and throws it in the trash. He starts to undress.
“No, wait a minute, we’re talking about this…” I pause when I see my name tattooed on his chest. Oh my God. I’m speechless.
Connor smirks and walks up to me, cups my face again. “I told you I was pierced.”
“That’s not why…” I swallow.
“I know. You were saying?”
“You tattooed my name on your skin.”
“I know what I did.”
“Why did you do that?”
“Because I didn’t want to lose you.”
I kiss him back. “Does that mean you want to keep me?”
“Yes, it does. That was never the question. The question has always been if you wanted to keep me.”
“Oh, I do. I do. A thousand times, I do.”
“Do you know I just proposed and you said yes?” he asks. “Because that’s what played out in my head. Tell me I’m not wrong.”
“You’re not wrong, Connor. You’ve always been the right, the only, the very best for me.”