by Ava Claire
I wanted her to put aside all reason and stay with me.
Just stay.
I felt pathetic. Weak. Looking into her deep brown eyes, the depth of them expanding by the moment, and I was lost in them. What she'd faced, at Cole's hands, and she still didn't let him bleed...
She put aside the pain that she'd endured and fought for the very man that had wronged her. And even now, all rationality said that she should be out of the energy to give me another chance. Narrowed gaze aside, she was waiting, hoping that I would say the words to make this right.
“To be honest, I have no idea what to say to you, Leila.”
She gave me a look that said we were off to a fantastic start. Her lips twisted into a snarl and she opened her mouth to probably tell me another apology wouldn't cut it.
I narrowed my eyes at her, a look I used when she questioned me behind closed doors. It was a look that made her mouth snap shut, though she jutted her chin out defiantly.
“When we first met, I wanted you,” I began. “I told myself it was sexual but I knew that was false as soon as that thought flitted through my head. I didn't know how I deserved you, and I was certain that at any moment you'd realize just how fucked up I am and all the dollars and cents in the world wouldn't balance the cost of being with me.” I embraced the darkness, the glow from the cottage behind me. I opened up to her, because that was all I had left. Nothing but the truth remained.
“You should stay because I need you. It's selfish, I know that. And after what I did-” I cringed when I realized not even the darkness could cover the red that stained my shirt. That stained my skin, and soaked right down to the bone. The emotion was upon me in an instant, a wild, feral thing, that shredded my mask and I crumbled. “Jesus, I almost killed my brother...”
She had every right to keep her distance. To tell me that I made my bed and so I should lay in it. She had the right to breathe fire and tell me the tears that welled in my eyes still didn't answer her question. Instead, she found me in the dark, gripping the front of my jacket. She balled her fists, the frustration and pain choking her voice. Choking me.
I couldn't hold back. I couldn't control the emotions that swept me up. The wetness on my cheeks was like acid that ate away at my flesh. My vocal chords were on fire, my words a scorched plea. There was only one word that was my salvation. Only one person that stood there with me while the walls collapsed.
“Leila.”
She pulled me in, the hands that had barred me from her clutching me. No one had ever seen me this raw. I'd never felt safe enough to let anyone look at the man behind the mask. But I couldn't stop shaking. I couldn't keep my grip on control and the charade if I tried. I'd clutched anger for so long that I wasn't prepared for the weight of the guilt. I wasn't prepared for the love she gave me, even in the face of the horrible things I'd done. To Cole. To her. To myself.
I cradled her face, fighting the urge to shut down. To at least take a moment to rein my emotions in so the tears wouldn't drench my words.
Not tonight. Not anymore.
“I have never needed anyone, anything more than I need you, Leila.”
She blinked up at me through the pain. The worry. The ache.
“Even in my darkest hour, the only thing that kept me from completely losing myself was you.”
She dropped her eyes. She didn't need to say the obvious truth. My words meant very little with us standing here, my brother bloodied and bound back in the cottage.
“Hey,” I said gently.
She tugged her eyes back up at me, her jaw tightened.
“I know...I still...I planned to...” I sucked in a breath from behind my clenched teeth. “I am going to stumble. I am going to fall. It's no excuse. You don't deserve this, any of this. But damn it, Lay, I can't live without you. You should stay because without you, I'm lost. You should stay because when you look at me, hope flickers inside of me. The hope that someday, somehow, I'll be the man that you see.”
She closed her eyes and I stopped breathing. She was going to say that wasn't enough. I was going to lose her forever.
But she didn't walk away, or tell me that it was over. She nuzzled my hand, pressing a kiss into my palm before she looked up at me with love shining in her gaze.
“There is no someday or somehow. I'm not delusional, my head's not in the clouds, my heart isn’t painting some picture that doesn't exist. You are the man I see, Jacob. Beautifully flawed, stubborn...but you love fiercely. You're a good man, not a villain. Not hopeless. You're human.” She stroked my cheek, a smile dancing across her lips. “That wall isn't as impenetrable as you think. Because I see you. And I love you.” She dropped her hands and stood at attention. She'd said her piece, and now it was time for action. “What's done is done. Now, let's make this right.”
She started back toward the cottage, the wind catching her jacket. Making it flutter behind her like wings.
She stopped just short of the door, turning back to me with her hand extended.
I exhaled, knowing that she was giving me a chance. That she was giving me her heart. I wouldn't waste one more moment wondering why I deserved it. From now on, I'd dedicate myself to being the partner that she deserved. The man beneath the mask.
Chapter Nine
Cole didn’t look at me.
As much as it pained me to admit, I didn't blame him. I was grateful there were no reflective surfaces because I didn't want to look at myself either.
The wounds I'd inflicted showed no mercy. The redness at his jaw made me ache, subconsciously pulling my hand to my own as a phantom ache spread over me. I didn't get very far in taking stock of the damage because his neck was a glaring, sobering blow of guilt. It only intensified when Leila gingerly reached for the towel, her body tense with worry.
“We really should call a hospital. A doctor? Someone.”
“For this?” Cole grimaced and I hated that my heart dropped an inch. Just an inch. “This is just a scratch.”
Was he joking? My momentary lapse was instantly forgotten. I moved to him like lightning, no spark necessary for me to be consumed with the need to give him something to joke about. “Do not take my change of heart as some sort of license to forget the gravity of this situation.”
“Jacob,” Leila pleaded, glancing back at me warily.
“It's okay.”
Something in Cole's voice drew our eyes back to him. It didn't command attention. It wasn't an explosion in the silence. It was quiet. The tone one used when you'd reached the edge and there was nothing you wanted more than to embrace the inevitable and jump.
“You think the gravity of this situation is lost on me? I'm not making jokes because I'm in denial or just a fucking asshole. I laugh because the alternative is far worse. The alternative leaves me one option and one alone.” He met my gaze. There was no jump. No letting go. In the eyes that looked so much like my mother's, I watched my brother plunge into his own darkness. “I would have saved you the trouble of tracking me down, because there would be no one to find. Instead of coming here to off me, you'd have to settle for a news blurb about some John Doe found in some disabled car or cold and unresponsive in a tub in a cheap motel.” Tears blurred his eyes. Dulled my anger. “I bought a gun, you know. Every night, I take it out and hold it to my temple...and-” A sob cut off the graphic image.
I was the one that broke eye contact, looking to Leila. She was just staring at him, her mouth agape. Something in her horror struck a nerve and I knew I didn't want or need to hear anymore about my brother's suicidal ideation.
“If you think I'm going to stand here while you tell us how hard you've had it after what you did-”
“You have no idea what he did,” Leila cut in coldly.
I could blame it on the situation, standing in what was supposed to be my brother's resting place, with my wife knee deep in it with me...my emotions had teeth. It usually took no effort at all to ignore the bite of them, but not tonight. Tonight, they gripped me and wouldn't let go. The
frustration that clouded my eyes would have normally been cleared or hidden before she noticed. But she saw it, and a sad smile darkening her face as she threw both hands up in surrender.
“But how would you know what he did? I haven't said a word besides vague ‘he's not a part of it’.” She drew her arms tight around her, holding herself. “You have no idea what 'it' is because I haven't uttered a word.” She drew her eyes back to Cole, her shoulders dropping. “Secrets are poison. Tonight is clear proof of that. The truth is no cakewalk, but if I'd talked to you about what happened to me-” She paused and scrunched her face in pain. “Before you go all alpha and say this isn't on little ol’ me, big bad Cole and his sister are at fault and it's your job to protect me, I'm not done. I'm not the only one that kept secrets.” She speared me with a look. “You orchestrated this whole trip as a front to hunt down Cole.” She threw a scowl in Cole's direction. “And you were keeping secrets from the moment you entered Jacob's life. Our lives.” She looked up at the ceiling, like she couldn't stand to look at anyone. “Secrets brought us to this point and I refuse to spend one more second clutching my own.” The wind whistled through the room and she dodged to the door. I watched her, wondering if she was contemplating making a break for it. She closed it instead, quietly leaning against it. Her eyes were frozen on a threadbare rug near her, but I knew that she wasn't looking at his furnishings at all. She was lost in the memories.
The pain on her face—she'd rather be anywhere else in the world besides reliving that day. There was the 'alpha' part of me that just wanted to pull her to me and tell her she didn't have to say a word because I was here and I'd make it all better.
But making her stifle her pain because the weight of it was crushing me wouldn't help her heal. And she was right: secrets are toxic. So even though her pain was unbearable and I wanted to save her...I listened. Probably for the first time since she'd come back, I stopped being ruled by my need to avenge her and let her do what she needed to do.
“I woke up in a motel room.” She bit back an uncomfortable chuckle. “That's probably obvious. The motel room. And waking up. After being drugged the night before.” Her second chuckle was a loud, brittle thing that left her gasping for breath and my teeth and nerves on edge.
I took one step that quickly became a stampede that put me right in front of her. She didn't push me away, but that's because the look she threw at me kept me at a distance. Not because she was hiding, but because she needed to get this out, no matter how painful.
I backed up, stopping when I hit the edge of Cole's ratty mattress. I looked down, red sprinkling the aged hardwood floor. I didn't push aside the wave of nausea that pummeled me.
No more secrets. No more pretending that any of this was okay or just.
I swallowed the bile that climbed from my stomach and bubbled in my throat. “I'm here, Leila.”
She sniffed and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “Even now, my first reaction is to tell you how okay I am. But that's the biggest lie of all.” She pulled her hands from her face, a look of horror souring her expression when she looked at her blood caked nails. She snatched her arms to her sides. “I didn't know where I was at first. All I knew was the bits and pieces from the night before. When I met Brittany. Realizing she'd drugged me.” She chewed on her bottom lip and stole a look at Cole. “I saw his face before everything went black.”
I kept my eyes on my wife, knowing that if I looked back at my brother, the anger would come back with a vengeance. I knew where that road would lead. I was determined to do things differently.
Leila dropped her hands back to her jacket, wiping her palms. My imagination painted streaks of red, but there was none.
“Brittany came in and...she...toyed with me. But it wasn't a game at all. Not when she pulled out the switchblade. Or when she held it to my throat.” Leila hung her head, her curls spilling into her face. They did nothing to hide her pain. I saw the way she shuddered, the quiet sobs that drowned the silence. “I've never been so afraid in my life. The blade wasn't against my skin for that long. I mean, she cut me...” She brought her hand to her neck and traced the wound, locking eyes with me. She pushed her hair out of the way, letting me see every tear. “But in those brief moments, I realized just how badly I wanted to live. How I wanted to live with you, start a family-” She squeezed her eyes shut, her words hitting a wall and going no further.
Cole shifted behind me and I hurled a look in his direction, prepared to tell him to not even breathe until Leila was done, but his face made me rethink my animosity. He was in pain too, and it had nothing to do with the number I'd done on him. These memories pulled back the curtain to reveal the number he'd done on himself.
“You should know that if Cole didn't show up, I have no idea how far she would have gone, just to prove a point,” Leila pressed, her voice firm. It built in strength as she pushed from the door and started pacing back and forth. “He told me about their childhood. It was a nightmare, Jacob. A pure nightmare. He just wanted to start over and take care of his sister.”
So he decided to take you and make a withdrawal from the Whitmore Bank? The flash of disgust jolted through me and I let it out with a tumbling sigh. Me interjecting to remind everyone of the obvious, brutal truth did no one any good. I crossed my arms instead, taking deep breaths to remind myself that anger wanted a pound of flesh. Love, my heart, wanted and needed to listen.
“We had every intention of sneaking out. Cole was going to let me go,” she explained, her voice thick with emotion. She gripped my gaze and said each word with conviction. “Cole was going to let me go, Jacob.”
Inside, that stupid, worrisome part of me that liked to hope against all odds snapped to attention. “He tried to help you?”
Leila confirmed it with a nod. “Yes. But Brittany overheard us and she lost it. If Cole hadn't played along and tried to reason with her and rein her in...” She pawed at her hair, yanking it over one shoulder and shrinking into herself. It was like she was trying to disappear altogether. Back in that memory, making herself as small and inoffensive as possible to ward off any further harm. “She called you, made Cole-” she gulped. “Cut me and then I spent the hours leading up to the trade wrapping myself in hate. Shutting myself down and leaving nothing for her to use against me.”
I raised my eyebrows when she went to the door, but she didn't throw it open and run for her life. She remained in the doorway, arms limp at her side as she looked out into the night.
“You should know I don't blame Brittany. And it would take little to no effort to hate her and carry that cross until the day I die,” Leila paused, audibly sucking in a breath that told me that every day she fought with this. And every day, she chose to not take the easy route. “And I don't blame Cole.” She kissed her shoulder with her cheek, her eyes shut. “I have no doubt that Cole Sommers saved my life.”
I wanted to push it aside. She was right...hate was easy. Damn near effortless, considering. Hate was what got me through when I watched my wife fall apart and still smile. Hate fueled me when I knew they were out there, seemingly living the life, clutching a pardon that was paid for in torture and agony. I woke up with hate raging inside me and closed my eyes with the image of my hands around my brother's throat lulling me to sleep.
Forgiveness...that was the feat. Letting go seemed impossible.
And now that I knew I had the story wrong, that Cole wasn't the grand orchestrator and he'd been able to help my wife, make her feel safe in the face of unspeakable terror, how could I choose hate? How could I say that he deserved the pain I'd dealt?
I slowly worked my eyes from the floor until they rested on his broken face. Truth or no, an apology still felt like a betrayal. There was something I needed to say. Something I never thought I’d say to my brother. “Thank you.”
He snapped his chin upward so hard I nearly lunged forward, knowing that movement had to be excruciating. Concern. Gratitude. They were all things I never thought I'd feel for my brother
.
Our eyes met and our conversation was a silent one. He understood that I wasn't doing this for him.
This was for Leila.
This was for me.
Chapter Ten
I stepped beneath the spray of water, letting it pound my chest. I ducked my head beneath the hot stream, closing my eyes to ward off dark images that sprang to mind. Cole's blood swirling down the drain. Leila's red eyes filled with cautious hope when I thanked him. My brother's sobs when I went outside to use the satellite phone to call for help. Because I wasn't the hero of this story, I gruffly reminded him that it was within everyone's best interest that he come up with some believable story to explain his injuries.
I braced my hands on the wall of the shower. Now that I had all the pieces to the story and realized that Cole had tried to make things right, to help Leila... I balled my fists and punched the tile, welcoming the bone crushing agony that ripped through me. I clenched my teeth, refusing to cry out. I didn't deserve the relief that would come from letting go; cradling my hand while letting out a string of expletives that distracted from the scream of misery.
I was a monster.
The most painful part was Leila had told me, multiple times, that it wasn't Cole's fault. Instead of hearing her, I had my story, and I stuck to it. The timeline of events began when I first saw my brother's face. Some hero that played a necessary role to minimize the damage his disturbed sister inflicted didn't fit my narrative. I needed someone to feel my wrath. I needed someone to blame.
I wiped the water from my eyes and looked down at my hands. I couldn't blame what I'd done to Cole on anyone but myself.
The ride back to Dublin should have been unbearable. Leila sobbing quietly, her eyes locked on the window, still back in that cottage despite the tires pulling us away from the carnage. I'd been prepared to take on her pain, her anger, her disappointment. Despite our moment outside when I let her see me breakdown and learned that Cole wasn't the ski masked villain I'd painted, it would take time for her to forgive my betrayal. It would take time for me to forgive myself. But she surprised me. She held my hand the whole ride back to our hotel, squeezing it like it was a beating heart that she was willing to pump. To live.
