by W Winters
The sky darkens at my words, the sun setting further into the trees, and I don’t like it.
“This isn’t okay,” I tell him in the calmest voice I can manage. I focus on taking one deep breath and then another.
“Don’t get worked up. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“How could you have thought this wouldn’t upset me?” I bite back. And then snidely add, “Oh, that’s right, because you don’t listen to me. Because I say words that don’t mean anything.”
“Don’t do that.” Sebastian’s voice is low as he stares at me. His gaze is heated and so penetrating I can barely look at him, but I do. “Don’t make it out like I don’t care, Chloe. All I care about is you.”
“Then why are we here?” I can’t control the emotion in my voice.
The quiet forest seems to get darker with every minute we sit here arguing in the car.
“Because Carter needs me,” he answers me in a tight voice.
Carter. His best friend. The one he left behind in order to run away with me.
I could never relate to that friendship. A friendship he calls family. Because I had no one to leave behind. Friend, family, or otherwise. I only ever had Sebastian.
“And that’s his place?” I surmise. “The big one when we entered?” Big one doesn’t quite do it justice.
“This is all his property, but the place we’re going is deeper in the land. Private but safe and close. He lives there with his brothers,” Bastian answers, all the tension leaving him. He knows I have a soft spot for Carter. What he doesn’t know is how guilty I feel about everything that happened. But how could he, when he doesn’t even know I’m very aware of what actually happened all those years ago?
“And what did he need you for?” I ask him, meeting his gaze. I can already see that he’s going to lie. His tell is the way he narrows just his left eye, ever so slightly.
“You never tell me anything,” I say before he can disrespect me with another lie.
“What you need to know is that you’re safe here, and that I love you and I would do anything for you.”
My first instinct is to correct him and tell him it’s not about what I need to know, it’s about telling me everything because I’m his partner. And those are the words sitting there on the tip of my tongue until I look in his eyes and see a hint of worry, and I let his statement digest.
Safe here. Are we in danger? My hand moves to my belly and the fear of loss is all too real. The last time we left this place, death remained behind. The lingering memory of the nightmares and the fears creep into my mind. But I know what happened back then, and it can’t be that. I pray it’s not that.
I don’t know if it’s just being back here that causes chills to trail up my arms and down my spine, or if it’s something else. I swallow my question, knowing Sebastian won’t answer me anyway.
“Just come with me,” Bastian asks, holding out his strong hand for me to take.
It doesn’t mean I forgive him when I place my hand in his. And it doesn’t mean we’re okay when I follow him up the paved walkway to the gorgeous red walnut French doors.
All it means is that it’s getting late, I’m tired, and I don’t want to fight right now.
I fought all my life just to get by. I thought I was done fighting.
I thought wrong.
2
Sebastian
“Is he going to be a problem?”
I ask Carter the only question that’s been eating away at me as we drove down here. The hate, the anger… the fear, it’s all mixed into a deadly concoction that’s been destroying my sanity for days. Ever since I left Chloe, all I could think is that this prick would go after her. That Romano would take her away from me.
Even though I knew she was safe, I couldn’t sleep not having her right here by my side where she belongs. I don’t know how we lived so long thinking we’d get away from it forever, but we can’t. I’m not running away; I’m not going anywhere. “I’m going to fucking kill him.”
“Romano’s a dead man and he knows it,” Carter answers, the early morning light filtering in from the large window behind his desk.
“While he’s still breathing, he’s a fucking problem,” I respond and run my thumb along my jaw. “I thought about how we could do it on the way over to pick up Chloe and then that cop had to show up.”
“Officer Walsh is a menace. He thinks he can question everyone and wait in parking lots for shit to go down and that he’ll somehow be the hero? He doesn’t know shit. Not about how things work around here, or about how deep these cuts go. All he’s doing is delaying the inevitable.”
“He has damn fine timing.” I blow out the statement, sitting back farther in my seat and hating that this new cop had to come down here and force us all to wait for what’s rightfully ours. Even though he’s former FBI from New York, all we have to do is wait until he turns his back, just like they all do. He’ll learn what it’s like down here and how far a piece of paper and a badge will get him.
“Romano’s not going to make a move or leave that gaudy piece of shit he calls home. Not unless he has a death wish.”
Fuck, just hearing his name causes adrenaline to rush through my veins and I have to sit up straighter, gripping the arms of the leather chair as I struggle to stay still. “I hate doing nothing.”
“You and me both,” Carter answers.
“You didn’t screw him over, though. He didn’t send out a hit order on you,” I tell him. Chloe is everything to me and I would do anything for her. Leaving the mafia behind and being marked was a risk I was willing to take for her. But I’m back now, and I’m not going anywhere. Not when so much is at risk. The fucker has to die. No one is coming after me or my family.
“I heard about his guys going to Chloe’s when I didn’t show up and he realized I’d left that morning after we got the hell out of here when we were kids,” I say. The sickness burns up my throat and I have to swallow it down, along with the hate and the rage. “Romano didn’t try to kill someone you love.”
I take my words back when I remember what Jase, Carter’s brother, told me last week. The little bit of information that changed the reluctant relationship the Cross brothers had with Romano. “I’m sorry. I heard about your brother.” I’m not the only one Romano went after. I’m the only one to get away though.
Carter reacts more strongly than I thought he would. He’s younger than me by only a few years. In a lot of ways, he was the younger brother that I never had. But back when we were just kids, he never liked to talk about his emotions. Never. He’d always preferred to just be alone.
“Romano will pay for what he did—to you, and to the rest of my family.” His statement is strained. I don’t miss that he says “the rest,” which means he still sees me as his family too. Even though I haven’t been at his side through all of this bullshit.
Some blood you’re born with. Some blood you choose.
He leans back slightly and a grimace mars his face as he touches his chest. He’s still healing.
“You all right?” I ask him and he nods, still taking a moment to process the pain. To process all of it.
“I miss him,” Carter confesses after a minute and his eyes get glossy. He coughs it away, pretending to be nothing but cold on the outside. But with no one to fight in this cold war, you can only look inward.
“Aria’s changed you,” I comment, knowing it has to be her who’s brought out this new side of him.
Carter grins at me, not denying it. He knows it’s true.
“I’m sure Chloe’s changed you too.”
Chloe. Just hearing her name does something to me. My Chloe Rose. “You could say that.”
Carter chuckles, a knowing grin growing on his face. “What’d she say about coming back?” he asks, the smile never wavering even though every trace of humor vanishes from me instantly.
I have to look away, feeling a hint of shame that she didn’t want to come back. She fought me on coming back. “She doesn
’t know what it feels like being away and missing it, you know?” I finally settle on that truth. “She hates this place.”
Carter’s smile dims, but the corners of his lips kick up at the last comment. “Don’t we all.”
“She doesn’t have anyone left here.”
“You think she’ll come around?”
“I fucking hope so.” The temperature of my blood drops and I tap my foot restlessly against the leg of the chair as I watch the early morning sky turn darker with the gray clouds moving in. I stayed away for as long as I could. I needed to so I could keep her. The only worry that keeps me up now that I know she’s safe is whether or not she’ll stay with me. She was always meant to leave me, she’s too damn good for me and for this life. But I’ll be damned if I let anything happen to her, whether she stays with me or not, she’ll be staying here, where it’s safe and she’s protected. We had to come back; I have to end Romano.
“Does she know? Does she know about what you did before you left?”
I hold his gaze, letting the memories of the life I used to live, the one I’m walking back into, play before us. The violence, the murders. It was an exchange I had to make, one I don’t regret because it means Chloe’s by my side.
“No.” I answer him in a single word, spoken so firmly that it practically ricochets off the walls of the room. “She can’t know.”
Carter gives me a single nod of acknowledgment.
“And what about Marcus?” I ask Carter, quick to change the subject so I can get rid of this revolting churning in the pit of my gut. I know where I stand with Romano. One of us will kill the other, but he has everyone foaming at the mouth to end his life. I don’t know where I stand with Marcus, though. No one ever knows where they stand with him until it’s too late. “Is Marcus going to be a problem?”
Carter’s eyes are assessing as he stands from his desk, turning around to look out of his window as the snow starts to fall. I know somewhere beyond those trees Chloe is in bed still, sleeping, safe and sound.
“Marcus is always a problem.”
3
Chloe
“You hungry?” Bastian’s voice startles me and I jump back from the opened suitcase of clothes I set on the sofa.
His rough chuckle at my expense makes me want to smack him, but his strong arms wrapping around me send a warmth through me, calming all those nervous feelings that wormed their way in. “Didn’t mean to scare you,” he says low and deep, pulling my back into his chest.
As I reach up behind me to wrap my arms around his neck, he kisses the crook of my neck right in the small gap my baggy sleepshirt allows him.
With my eyes closed and breathing in his woodsy scent, I remind him, “I’m still mad at you.”
Last night we slept together, my legs tangled with his and my entire being happy to be by his side again. We avoided the argument for the time being … and then I woke up alone. It wasn’t until I found his note on the nightstand that the hollowness in my chest went away. He was only going to see Carter while I slept.
I don’t like this insecure feeling. The nerves are a permanent stitch in our relationship. Like one day I’ll lose him. I’ll wake up alone, and that’s how it will be for the rest of my life.
I don’t want another man to take his place. I only want Sebastian. His lies and hidden truths are what give me that feeling that it’s all going to unravel though. Lies he’s carried for years. Secrets he needs to let go of.
He rocks me gently, and that’s how he gets me every time. He didn’t use to give me this so easily, so freely. The touches, the kisses, the obvious need for me to feel loved.
And I didn’t use to feel like I needed it. But I do. I need him. I need this. Just like I need the air to breathe.
“So food? Yes?” he asks again and I stand up a little straighter, nudging him away because he doesn’t acknowledge the fact that there’s this gaping hole between us. How can we fix what he refuses to admit is broken?
“I’m going to unpack this stuff first.” My knee prods the suitcase and the insides of it jostle slightly as I get back to the unpacking I’ve been tending to. It’s mostly clothes and bathroom essentials. “I assume you’re having everything back home packed up and moved here without my knowledge?” I ask him, peeking over my shoulder just in time to see him cross his arms and lean against the wall.
My gaze drifts to the corded muscles that line his arms and I know he’s doing that shit on purpose.
It’s quiet and I hate that I think he’s not going to answer me, when suddenly he does.
“It can wait until you tell me you want to stay.” He readjusts and adds, “I know you like the apartment, I wouldn’t do that to you.”
“Are you thinking we could keep it? And have both places?” I ask him, noting his every moment as I fold a sweater I’d pulled out of the suitcase before he came in here.
“We have options,” he answers and I huff out a sarcastic laugh.
Options. I have to stare at the plush cream sweater as I toss it onto the sofa and then retrieve the next piece of clothing from the suitcase. It’s an old shirt of mine, but one of my favorites that reads Carpe Diem. I have never felt so much betrayal from a shirt before. Even this garment has taken Sebastian’s side.
“With you writing, we can go anywhere, do anything. Remember how you told me that?” he reminds me.
“I didn’t mean you could drag me along to wherever you wanted to go against my will,” I answer him flatly.
“You said you’d go wherever I wanted to take you. Change your mind?” he says, and the tone of his voice changes. The way the words float in the air longer, needing more attention and wanting to be heard so much more than any other words… the way he says them makes me pause.
Tick. My heart’s counting the seconds. That’s what it’s been doing. Savoring each one and recognizing that they matter.
“I came here, didn’t I?” I ask him, leaving out the emotional damage threatening to spill into each syllable. I remember the way I felt when we were first together. Counting each day and waiting for the one where we inevitably said goodbye.
I don’t want that. Ever.
It’s quiet, too quiet. The kind of quiet that turns to nights filled with loneliness and heartache.
I focus on the room and change the subject as I ask, “You had someone decorate this place?” It’s a bitch move to cower away from the argument because I’m afraid to lose him. I hate myself for it.
This is the exact reason he thinks he can keep secrets from me. He knows I don’t want to fight. Not with him.
He stares at me hard for a moment, reading into every detail of my expression the way he always does. I wish he wouldn’t.
“Yeah,” he answers and his single word tests the tension between us.
It’s still there, smoldering, but I don’t add fuel to it. I don’t want to fight with him, ever. Not when he’s the only hero I’ve ever had. The only knight in shining armor I’ve ever wanted. Even if he’s all dinged up and damaged but pretending he’s not.
I can pretend too.
“I like it,” I tell him as I toss the shirt onto the pile, folded nice and neat even though I’m debating on finally donating it now that it’s taunted me. Taking in a slow breath and releasing it, I say, “I really like the whitewash on the furniture with the light woods. And the cream walls, it’s very calm and relaxing.” All the while I talk, I fold another sweater and toss it down, making my pile lean a little. “It needs some pops of color I think, but I really like it.”
It looks like I could have plucked this house straight from the pages of a Good Housekeeping magazine. I attempted something like this at the apartment, but it wasn’t quite right. It was just items I bought and put in the rooms, but they didn’t fit the way I thought they would. “I think I may even love it.”
“Is that right?” he asks me easily, and even his lips tick up into an asymmetric grin. My heart recognizes something powerful between us: I love to make him happy and
make him smile … in turn, he wants that for me too.
It’s still just ticking along though.
I don’t know how long my smile will last here.
“Yes, that’s right,” I answer, avoiding the unknown and focusing on the here and now. On the fact that if I’m not ready to fight, I want to love him. It’s only one or the other, with no happy medium. Because either way, we’re together.
Knock, knock, knock. The three timid knocks save me from a strained breath.
Bastian makes a move to get the door and turns to walk out of the room, letting me return back to this new reality.
It is my reality and it’s already better than I anticipated, but I can’t shake the nervousness. “I’d like it better if you’d tell me the truth,” I whisper lowly under my breath, knowing that’s exactly why the ticks are being counted.
“Chlo,” Bastian calls my name from the foyer, a gorgeous foyer with whitewashed floors and an iron lantern chandelier. I wasn’t being complimentary for the sake of a truce; whoever decorated this place knew what they were doing.
My bare feet pad on the floor as I make my way to the front entrance, following the sound of a feminine laugh.
“I hope so,” the woman says as I enter. That ticking turns to something else when I see her. Something like a war drum being beat with the handle of a machete.
I’m in shapeless pajamas and feeling the heaviness of the bags under my eyes and she’s… put together and chic and beautiful. And a woman I don’t know.
“I know she’ll love it,” Bastian tells her and then they both spot me in the threshold.
“Hi,” the petite brunette says with a shy wave. She rocks on her heels as I look between her and Bastian, who’s holding a tray of something covered in tinfoil.
“Chloe, this is Aria,” Sebastian tells me and I look between the two of them again as I say hi. I have no clue who she is. The name Aria means nothing to me.
“I wanted to give you guys a housewarming gift. Food for Sebastian… because … well, because he’s a man and I don’t know what men like… and this for you,” she says clearly, politely, matter-of-factly as she hands me a brown kraft gift bag with a white lace design and white tissue paper. Something tells me she’s already been here, given that the bag matches the décor.
