Dare to Stay

by Jen McLaughlin

  “No.” I shrugged his hold off and stood up unsteadily. My chest ached from the sobs I held back. My throat throbbed. My eyes stung. But I held it together. I backed up toward the shower until I couldn’t back up anymore. It put a few feet between us. It wasn’t enough. “I mean I can’t do this anymore. Be with you. I can’t.”

  He stared up at me, not a hint of emotion fleeting across his face, and didn’t move. Simply stood there, looking as frozen as ice, and just as cold. “Why not?”

  “No matter what you do, who you become, you’re always going to come home bleeding . . . and covered in other people’s blood.” I wrapped my arms around myself and swallowed back a sob. “I’m a teacher. I work with kids, not guns. I can’t live like this. I can’t—” I broke off, tears running down my face. “You have to go.”

  Before I back down again.

  He didn’t even flinch. Just stared back at me like he didn’t care whether or not I could handle being with him. “Right now?”

  I nodded once.

  “Jesus.” He dragged a hand through his hair and swiped the back of his palm across his face. He took a step toward me. “Is this because of what I said earlier? I didn’t mean it. I don’t love you, so you don’t have to leave me. I swear it. I don’t love you.”

  What had he said earlier? I must’ve missed it. “Yeah. I know.” I held a shaky hand out to stop him. He listened. “You should shower and everything first, but . . . you need to leave.”

  Turning on my heel, I bolted from the room.

  There was no other word for it.

  I barely saw anything as I sprinted across the hallway and into the guest room. All of Chris’s stuff was in the bedroom we shared, so I couldn’t hide out in there. Heck, I might never be able to enter that room again. Too many memories. Too much pain.

  Trembling, I sat on the edge of the bed and stared at the closed door.

  It was weird. So much pain rocked through me that it hurt to even think about moving. About living every day without Chris by my side. Without knowing if he was alive, or shot, or dead in an alley. Not knowing if he was okay.

  How was I supposed to be okay with that?

  I might have only been dating him—if we could even call it that—for a short time, but with all the courting he’d done, and the danger and the amazing sex . . . it felt like a lifetime.

  Losing him was like losing that last hope I had that maybe, just maybe, I could live a normal life. That I could fall in love, get married, and have babies.

  That dream was dead.

  The only man I wanted was Chris . . .

  And he couldn’t live a normal life even if he wanted to.

  Tears rolled down my cheeks, and I lifted my feet up on the bed, bending at the knee and hugging my legs tightly. Still. I just sat there. Numb. Staring at a closed door. Until . . .

  It opened, and Chris came in wearing nothing but a towel. He’d showered and had tape across his broken nose. All evidence of blood was gone, but I could still see it.

  I’d always see it.

  It was that blood, that life, that kept us apart.

  There was no happy ending for us. Just pain.

  He started talking before he located me on the bed. “I thought about it, and you know what? Fuck no. I’m not going. You had your chance, and you passed on it, so I’m staying. Tell me what you need me to do and I’ll do—” He took one look at me and my wet cheeks and staggered forward. “Molly, don’t. Don’t fucking cry over me. Don’t you dare.”

  I bit down on my lip hard, but a sob still escaped.

  Nothing would hold it back now.

  “Shit.” He closed the distance between us and pulled me into his arms. The second he hugged me, I knew that nothing would save me. I’d feel his loss just as strongly now as I would if he stuck around. And it wasn’t fair. “I’ll go. I promise. Just stop crying.”

  The pain in his voice was impossible to miss.

  I looked up at him, and he stared down at me with a haunting emptiness in his gaze. Like he knew nothing he said or did would actually fix what was wrong with me, and that terrified him. And he was right. Nothing would fix me. I was broken.

  No matter what I did . . .

  I was losing him.

  CHAPTER 23

  CHRIS

  Holding her in my arms as she cried over me, over what I’d done to her, hurt more than any kind of torture I’d ever had inflicted upon me. She was the one light in my life, the one shining beacon of happiness, and I’d fucking ruined it.

  Ruined her.

  And she’d ruined me, too.

  That’s what love really was.

  I never should have let it get this far. All along, I knew how this ended. It ended with her telling me to get the hell out of her life. With me slinking away back into the darkness, with nothing and no one there by my side, like the monster I was.

  And still, I’d sought her out again.

  Like a moth drawn to a flame, I couldn’t quit her. But she needed a man who didn’t come home with someone else’s blood all over him, and who didn’t need to snap his own nose back into place. She needed a dude who worked normal workday hours, like clockwork. She needed a guy who wore suspenders and dress shirts and who held their little girl—

  Instead of a gun.

  What she needed was a guy like Mitchell. The fucker who’d been here earlier. He was perfect for her. She’d even said so herself, back when we’d watched that dating show. The doctor and the teacher. Mitchell was the type of man a woman could rely on. He wouldn’t break her heart. He wouldn’t leave her mourning him over his grave at an early age. He would make her happy. They could have kids and a happy home. He could make her smile and laugh and maybe even scream out in pleasure. He could give her everything she deserved.

  And I fucking hated him for it.

  Her bright hazel eyes shone with tears I’d caused, and it killed me. The guilt choked me. I had to go. Put her out of her misery. But she was crying.

  Because of me.

  For the first time in my life, I wanted to put someone else’s well-being before my own. For the first time, I wanted to be the guy who walked away.

  “Shh.” I cradled her head and kissed her temple. I closed my eyes, a shaft of pain piercing through the shield of armor I wore around myself, because this was the last time I was going to get to hold her. The last time I got to touch her. “Don’t cry.”

  Her hand fisted on my bare shoulder. “Chris.”

  I closed the distance between us, kissing her. She tasted like tears, pain, and loss. Like everything I wanted was slipping through my fingers, because it was. I let my eyes close and pressed her back against the mattress, covering her body with mine.

  Being here, with her, was the only thing that felt right anymore. The only place I felt whole. We didn’t make sense. She could do better than me. Pretty much any other guy in the world was a smarter choice than me. But against all odds and all logic, I didn’t want to accept that. Didn’t want to lose her.

  And I wanted her to want me against all logic, too.

  To love me like she’d never loved another man.

  Which was stupid, since no one had ever cared about me that much before. I wasn’t the type of guy who inspired that kind of love and devotion. I wasn’t Lucas.

  Not even my own parents loved me.

  Why should she?

  Burying my hands in her hair, I slipped between her thighs, putting all the fucked-up emotions rolling through me into that simple gesture. Our lips melded together perfectly, and I wished that was a sign that we were meant to be. That it proved we could be together, against all odds.

  It wasn’t.

  Not anymore.

  She wrapped her legs around my waist, holding me in place, and trailed her hands down my back. The touch was gentle, but there was a franticness behind it
that couldn’t be ignored. She trembled beneath me, and her tongue curled around mine as she rocked her hips. I knew what she needed. Could get her off in seconds.

  I traced the curve of her hip, skipping over her ass and sliding down her outer thigh. As I came back up, I skimmed inward, teasing her but not touching. When I went back down her leg, I grabbed ahold of her ankle and tugged. She resisted at first but gave in when I tightened my grip on her.

  Through it all, I didn’t stop kissing her. I couldn’t.

  She broke free, gasping for air as I lowered her foot to the mattress, leaving her leg bent at the knee. “I—I need you. Please.”

  “You had me.” I kissed her again, gently, as I placed her other foot on the other side of my body. “You had all of me.”

  Her lips parted, and she tightened her grip on my shoulders. “I—”

  Before she could say something back, I kissed her again, burying my hand between her thighs. I kissed her like I was a dying man and she was my last chance at salvation. And she was. She’d been my last chance at being a man who lived.

  I’d miss her for the rest of my life, no matter how short that might be.

  I deepened the kiss when she tried to pull back, sliding my hand under her underwear and thrusting two fingers inside her tight pussy at the same time. Whatever she’d been about to say faded away, and she clung to me, crying out into my mouth. I was good at this part. At making a woman scream.

  I just didn’t know how to make her happy.

  How to make her love me back.

  “Shit.” I froze, my fingers still inside her. Slowly, I pulled back, staring down at her. “No.”

  She lifted her lids, staring up at me in confusion. “Chris?”

  “No.” I pulled out of her, pushed off the mattress, and stood, covering my face. I could smell her all over me. Everywhere. “I can’t do this.”

  She sat up, pushing the sleeve of her dress back up on her small shoulder. She looked so beautiful sitting there, staring at me with plump lips and rosy cheeks. So perfect. So fragile. So not mine. “What’s wrong?”

  “You told me to leave.”

  She swallowed. “I know.”

  “So I need to leave. I can’t keep playing this game where you tell me I should go, I agree, and then you kiss me and I stay.” I shook my head and backed up. The towel still clung to my hips, but I didn’t know how. I held it as tightly as I should have held on to her. “You might think I’m an emotionless asshole, but I’m not. If you don’t want me here, I need to go. It’s that simple.”

  “It’s not that I want you to go. It’s that I don’t see another option.” She struggled to her feet, wringing her hands in front of her, her soft gray knit dress falling back into place. “You’re going to die.”

  I tightened my hold on the towel. “Yeah. I know. We all are. So what?”

  “Yeah, but you’re literally planning your death. I thought I could handle it, take what little time I could get with you while I could get it, but I can’t watch you die.” She held her hands out. “Don’t you see? I did that already. I don’t want to do it again.”

  “So you want to spend the rest of your life alone? Hiding behind closed doors?” I flexed my jaw. “Or what? You just need someone who isn’t me? Is that it?”

  She flinched. “That’s not it.”

  “What do you want from me? Leaving you, having you, losing you, it’s all killing me.” I took a step toward her, every fiber in my being aching to pull her back into my arms, where she belonged. “You’re killing me.”

  She closed her eyes and tears rolled out again. “I don’t want to do that.”

  “Then don’t.” I stared her down, breathing unevenly because being so honest wasn’t easy for me. I didn’t talk about my emotions or sit here and confess what was really in my heart. I loved her. I’d shown her that. I’d even told her, if she’d been listening. If that wasn’t enough, I didn’t know what to say. “Tell me what you want. Anything. I’ll give it to you. The stars. The moon. Hell, the world. Just ask.”

  “You said you don’t form attachments. Don’t care about people.”

  I stiffened, knowing where she was going with this. “Yeah. I did.”

  “Is that true of everything?” She glanced at me through her lashes nervously, her cheeks pinking. “With everyone?”

  I had two options here.

  I could be honest with her and tell her I loved her. Maybe she hadn’t heard me earlier when I’d slipped, or maybe she just didn’t realize what I’d been about to say. Or maybe she wanted me to say it again, to prove it was true. But if I told her I loved her, we’d stay together, and she would be a target, and there was no escaping that.

  My other option was that I could lie.

  Tell her I meant every word I said and there was no way I would ever love her the way she deserved to be loved. In a way, it was true. I loved her, yes. But getting love from a guy like me was like scoring a bargain at the dollar store and saving a penny on a dollar item.

  It didn’t really give you a damn thing at all.

  Now I knew what it felt like to love someone more than I loved myself. What it was to love someone enough to put her safety first. I wanted her to live and be happy, even if it wasn’t with me. She’d given me that. Shown me what love felt like, how it changed a person. She’d changed me for the better.

  But I didn’t want to change her. I’d only make her worse.

  It was time to let her go.

  I squared my jaw and braced myself. “I meant every word I said. I don’t do love. It’s not worth it. I don’t know what it’s like to put someone first. I will never love another person the way they deserve to be loved.”

  She gritted her teeth. “You’re lying. No one spends years courting someone when they don’t care. When they’re dead inside.”

  I didn’t correct her, but I also didn’t tell her she was right. Instead, I settled for: “Guys like me can’t afford to have weaknesses, and that’s what love is. Weakness.”

  “All right. Whatever.” She took a deep breath, lifted those long, wet lashes of hers that I loved so much, and glowered at me. “Can I ask you for one last favor, though, before you take your ice-cold heart and leave again?”

  I forced my feet to stay still, even though I wanted to pull her into my arms and tell her she was right. That I loved her with all my heart and soul. “Anything.”

  “I want you to leave the gang. Leave Boston.” She swiped her hands across her cheeks. “Run away. Get a job. Live a normal life.”

  I took a second to form a response, because she’d asked for the one thing I couldn’t give her. “I can’t do that, even if I wanted to. The only way I’d get out of the gang is in a body bag. You don’t just leave.”

  “That’s not true. Lucas did it.” She grabbed the hem of her dress, wringing it between her hands nervously. “He faked his death. You could do that, too.”

  “Yeah. He did. With the help of his cop brother.” I gritted my teeth. “The same brother who knows exactly what I did to Lucas, and why.”

  “Then just walk away. Or buy your way out. Throw a bunch of cash at them. I don’t care, as long as you leave.” She closed the distance between us and pushed my good shoulder. “Stop making excuses and just go.”

  I squared my jaw, glaring down at her. “I’m not going.”

  “Why not?” She stilled, her face flushing with color. “Is it a money thing? I have money. Lots of it. I’ll give it to you. All of it. You could—”

  “Jesus.” I backed up, staring down at her with clenched fists. “I don’t want your damn money, Molly. I just wanted—” I broke off and laughed, rubbing my jaw. “Shit.”

  “What?” She stared at me, tears still wetting her cheeks. “What do you want?”

  You. Only you.

  All I wanted to do was make her happy—and I’d even
managed to screw that up. But I didn’t want to run and hide. Didn’t want to be that guy anymore.

  I was staying. Fighting. Without her.

  Princesses weren’t supposed to choose the black knights.

  “It doesn’t matter what I wanted.” I backed toward the door, staring at her one last time. Memorizing how beautiful she looked, even with a red-tipped nose and puffy eyes from crying. “Good-bye, Princess.”

  And I walked away before I did something foolish.

  Like beg her to love me.

  She stumbled after me, choking on a sob. “Wait! Please. You have to leave this city. You have to live.”

  “No. I don’t.” I didn’t pause. Just went into the bedroom and grabbed a pair of jeans off the floor. “I’m not leaving the gang. Not even for you.”

  I’d texted Scotty before I got in the shower, so he would probably be waiting outside for me by now, if he’d turned around and headed back right away. I tossed the towel across the room and stepped into the jeans, not bothering to put on underwear. I needed to get the hell out of here before I broke down. Before I forgot why it was better for her if I left.

  She came around the side of the bed. “But where will you go?”

  “Home. I’m back in the game.” I yanked a shirt over my head, ignoring the pain that rocketed through me when the hem hit my nose. “I’ve got no reason to play it safe anymore.”

  “Bitter Hill is still trying to kill you,” she said softly.

  “Someone is always trying to kill me,” I pointed out, shoving my belongings into the same damn trash bag my shit had been in before. I really needed to buy a damn duffel bag. I made sure to keep my voice perfectly even. To pretend like my heart wasn’t breaking. “That’s my life, Princess. But it’s not yours. Not anymore. Go back to teaching kids and making the world a happier place. You’re good at it.”

  She bit down on her lip. It didn’t stop the trembling. “Chris . . .”

  “Don’t.” I picked up my bag and slung it over my shoulder. “Just don’t. You’re you, and I’m me, and we both know this could never work out. I’m leaving, and this time—I’m not coming back. That’s a promise.”