Page 62 of Secret Vendettay
“It’s easy to push people away when you don’t have feelings for them, but you already do with her. How can you let that go?”
“She deserves better,” I said.
My brother evaluated me. “This is about Dad’s murder again, isn’t it?”
I said nothing.
“You still blame yourself for it.”
I took a sip, the liquid coating my tongue in velvety smoothness, unfurling layers of honeyed malt, quickly followed by a burst of citrus zest and green apples that were dominated with tones of oat and a hint of almond.
“You were a kid when anarmedmanbroke into our home. There’s nothing you could have done,” he insisted. “It’s not your fault that Dad was killed.”
But he didn’t know everything that happened that night. In all these years, I’d been too ashamed to tell him. Still was.
And if Luna found out what I really did the night my dad died, she’d leave me.
The memory of the first time I’d visited my father’s grave slammed into my mind—specifically when my mother had given each of us boys a moment alone by his headstone.
My father’s name was engraved on the shiny brown granite—the finality of his death slicing my heart open.
“I’m sorry,” I choked.
What a tragically inadequate phrase for costing him his life and creating an irreversible void for my family. A weight settled so heavily in my chest, each breath burned, and as I looked over my shoulder at my mom and brothers, I thought,I don’t deserve to live with them anymore. Maybe I should run away. Or worse…after what I did, I deserve to have a headstone of my own.But disappearing would inflict even more pain on my mother.
“You blame yourself for the killer going free, too,” Grayson accused, snapping me out of that memory and back to the present. “Because your description wasn’t detailed enough for the sketch artist to find him in photo lineups. So, you hunt him. And you lock up as many bad guys as you can. But hunting Dad’s killer won’t bring Dad back.”
My stomach roiled.
“And by being so fixated on that”—Grayson gestured toward the window—“you’re robbing yourself of relationships.”
My scotch had tendrils of smoke that twisted and curled around the glass, as if whispering secrets of isolation and betrayal. The ice cubes, once a solid companion to the alcohol, had slowly melted away, leaving the alcohol robbed of its strength and character.
In the depths of the golden liquid, a swirling vortex of hesitation mirrored my soul, reluctant to open up and risk being left behind, alone and empty, once more.
“Not just because you’re afraid of being left,” Grayson said. “Because you’ve convinced yourself that you’re not worthy of being loved.”
The weight of his words pulled at the very fabric of the room, and each second that passed felt like an hour—the distant hum of a clock’s ticking was the only evidence that moments were passing at all. I was caught in a whirlpool of introspection, each word from Grayson echoing louder in the caverns of my mind, while the walls seemed to close in around me.
As Luna arrived at her front door, I set my drink down. Opting for a different way to burn off my energy.
“I’m going to get a workout in,” I said.
But as I walked away, Grayson asked me one final question.
“If you have feelings for her, how long do you think you’ll be able to resist acting on them?”
CHAPTER21
Luna
“What the hell happened?” Sean demanded.
Sean’s sandy-blond hair was longer at the top, styled in a messy but intentional way, while the sides were buzzed short, his huge arm muscles bulging beneath his tight black T-shirt. Six foot four inches tall with a thick build, he commanded attention everywhere he went without even trying.
His piercing brown eyes scanned me from top to bottom, looking for any signs that I was hurt.
“I’m so sorry about your van,” I said.