Page 73 of Touch of Hate
He’s almost glowing as he pulls out my chair. “I pay attention to you. I always have.” My heart could break from happiness, I swear. I have Ren back. My Ren.
Even if he looks completely wrung out.
Now I wonder if his mood swings have to do with stress and exhaustion. The stress would explain the lack of sleep, too. I can only imagine kidnapping someone and getting away with it would be a stressful undertaking.
I’m clinging to the idea like I’d cling to a life raft in the middle of a stormy ocean. But I need to hang on to something, anything to give me hope.
“So listen.” He takes the chair across from mine and picks up his spoon to stir the raisins in. “We need to have a talk.”
I’ll have to ignore the shiver that runs through me and the goose bumps now pebbling my arms and legs. I don’t like the sound of this any more than I like the way his voice went a little flat. Serious.
Something tells me this isn’t going to be about anything pleasant or happy.
But I love him. And I want to help him in any way I can. That hasn’t changed. “Okay,” I murmur, stirring my oatmeal to cool it off a little. “I’m all ears.”
My stomach’s in knots now, unfortunately. Since when do I carry this pit of dread in my stomach when I’m around him? I hate it. I wish it wasn’t there.
I wish so many things. For instance, that we could go back in time and erase everything that happened last night after I got out of the shower. The stuff before that, we can keep. Most definitely.
Note to self: remember not to demand answers.
Rather than settle back in the chair like he does, I sit on the edge, my body holding the memory of last night, even if I want nothing more than to forget it.
He doesn’t seem to notice, taking a few spoonfuls before continuing. “I started to tell you about this last night. How it’s time to make things right. For my family and all the other families destroyed by those sick bastards. This is more important to me than I can explain. It’s the sort of thing you have to feel in order to understand.”
I nod slowly, less inclined than ever to eat. He’ll notice and bring it up, though. That’s enough to get me lifting the spoon to my lips.
He’s right. I can’t begin to understand what he’s been through, no matter how much I wish I could relate, if only to help him.
“Do you want to be with me?”
His seeming change of subject, out of the blue, startles me into sitting up straighter. “Of course I do.”
“No matter what?”
Haven’t I already proven that? I know better than to ask. “Yes. No matter what. My feelings haven’t changed.”
“Good.” A look of relief washes over his face. “Because I need you to join me in what I have to do. I need you to be a part of it.”
Anxiety’s been tapping at the back of my mind since he started speaking, but now it’s threatening to break the door down. “How so?”
“I’m not asking you to hurt anybody—you don’t have to worry about that. I would never put you in that position.”
“But people are going to get hurt?”
His jaw tightens, eyes narrowing. “For starters.”
One thing about being a Rossi: the prospect of violence doesn’t bother me much. Especially when the violence is warranted. If anybody deserves it, it’s the sort of people who’d run a cult.
“I can’t hide it from you,” he continues with a frown. “So I won’t bother lying. Are you okay with knowing what we’re working toward?”
“You and your brother?” I ask, and he nods in reply. Right away, questions bubble up in my head, but I shove them back down before my mouth gets away from me. Again. “Do what you have to do. I’m not going to try to stop you.”
His face takes on a glow that leaves me glowing inside. For a moment, everything else falls away, and there’s nothing but us. No past, no vengeance. No stress or sleepless nights.
This is how it was always meant to be. Ren and me sharing breakfast, smiling at each other from across the table. Nothing big and flashy. Nothing exotic, no jet-setting. Just the two of us. That’s all I’ve ever needed.
I can almost forget the pain I know my family is suffering now as I sit here gazing at the man I love.