Page 63 of When Sinners Fear
“You need to chill right the fuck down, Knox. You’re smarter than this.”
I back off and stare anywhere but at him. Tears are coming. I feel them building from the depths of years gone by and my immediate past. They’re full of emotion and volatility, full of regret and blame. All things I’ve buried before now. My knees are weakening with it, everything is. They buckle under me, and an agonised yell of sheer fucking hatred rips out of me. It bellows and roars like it needs to be heard, be felt. My hands plant the ground, and breaths heave in and out of me. It should be clear by now – easy. It isn’t.
I stare again, looking at eyes that aren’t here with me in the night. They’re blue and glassy, scared. I can see her screaming into the darkness of the gardens, feel her fear and pain, as if we're linked.
Someone grabs me under the arms and starts hauling.
“Car, now,” Abel says. “Move your feet. This isn’t the place. Use your head.” My head? My head can’t make sense of a goddamn thing.
Stumbling on, I slide into the car without objection, and close my eyes. The journey is silent other than the noise of the car. I end up drifting to near sleeping, maybe feeling safe enough for the first time to really let it come. Or exhausted enough. It’s dark there, though, just like the cage and the beatings and the pain. And she’s still there – letting me protect her.
Waking with a panicked breath, I snap my eyes open, lurch forward, and react to nothing.
A hand lands on my chest, pushing me back gently. “You’re in my car. Calm down.” I stare forward, looking at the main house’s driveway and lights, as his fingers slide away. “You’ve been asleep for an hour or so. You want to tell me what’s going on? Or have I got to drag it out of you?”
I sigh and lean my head on the rest to look around the grounds. There’s no point trying to outmanoeuvre him. Never has been. He’s too clever, too wise, and too damn emotional. Plus, I’m probably a major pain in his ass at the moment. Volatile. Unreliable. “Everything’s back there still,” I murmur. “Every moment. Everything’s a threat.” Silence again, like he’s waiting for more. What more is there, though? That’s it other than Peyton, and from what I can see nothing’s going away anytime soon. “And I have this blame living inside me, this guilt that won’t subside. It eats at me. Every fucking second.”
“Blame?”
“Peyton. She shouldn’t have been there. I did things to her. Hurt her.”
He snorts and opens the car door. “Come on. We need a drink.”
I follow him out and into the house. He walks through mother’s house like he owns it, and I guess he does now. In fact, he always has as far as the paperwork shows. Feels strange now with Mariana moved out and the remodel in full swing, though. Everything’s darker, like him, but there’s no denying Lexi’s flare around the place either. Sharp styling, muted elegance.
We head straight for the completed main lounge, and the drink turns from one into several. Damn fine whiskey flows with little conversation for a while. We just sit and watch the fire burning. No Lexi and her smirks to deal with. No concerns about threats coming for me. Just time and space and the silence of this house we’ve spent so much time in.
He leaves me to shower, and eventually comes back down in sweats and pouring more booze. “Is it more than guilt and blame with the girl?” he asks.
I frown. Feelings mean shit regarding her. I’ve already been through this in my own head. “She’s gone now.”
“Pushed away or chose to leave?”
“Doesn’t matter either way.”
He sits on the other end of the sectional and smiles. “Sure as hell does if you think more of her than you’re admitting.”
“Yeah? How does that work? ‘Hey Peyton, that shit I did to you? We do that to other women on a daily basis. In fact, here, meet Ratchet. And yeah, we profit off it. I’m the one who makes sure we do.’ I can see that going down real damn well, Abel.” A snarl forms on my mouth, and a dark chuckle bleeds from me. “That’s some real-life poetry right there.”
“Lexi’s alright with it.”
“She’s nothing like Lexi. She’s something else entirely. She’s … I don’t know what she is, or why we've become what we have, but she’d never accept being here and I’m not sure I’d want her to.”
“Why?”
“She’s not meant for this. For us. For me.”
He chuckles, long and low, and eventually blows out some breath like he’s trying to ease the tension surrounding that laughter. “Chivalry at its finest. First for a Cortez, no doubt.” Smiling a little, I refill my glass and relax further into the couch. “How about you just talk to her? She might surprise you.”
“She’s got a life to live. She needs to go live it. Without me.”
“That head of yours blows my mind sometimes. You’re allowed to feel, Knox. We all are, regardless of our lifestyle. I love my wife. She’s a bitch, but I don’t breathe without her being part of that breath anymore. And I think this in you, these emotions, are tied to Peyton. She’s part of you now. Call it just a protective instinct if you want, but that’s far more than you’ve ever got close to with a girl before now. Explore it. You’ll regret it if you don’t.”
My face hardens at the prospect. “I don’t want to.” For her sake.
“That’s bullshit on too many levels. You know it as well as I do.”
I drink the last of my whiskey. “Every second with her is a memory of there. Without her, it’s just me again, and the me I was before that place.”