Page 14 of Absolution

“I— You—” Is he gonna let us go?

“Ker, you’re not the only person in the world who’s been hurt. You have to move on.”

“That’s rich, coming from you! When did you move on?”

He looks a little guilty, but then he shrugs. “Consider yourself stuck with me, then.”

Anger wells up inside me, like a flood of dark poisonous mud. “No! No way!” I dart up from the bed and he follows suit. I push at his chest to get him away from me. He’s too close and I can’t breathe. “Get out!” I holler. “I hate you!” I push again and he catches my hands and shoves me backward until I hit the wall.

“Stop it, Ker! You’re overreacting!”

He’s holding both my arms, so I try to slam my head into his nose. Christian evades me and I cower as his expression changes into something less calm, something looking way too much like what I’ve seen before. In the harbor. Something dangerous. My heart speeds up as he grips my chin and presses my head back to the wall.

“Let me go,” I gasp, terrified over what I’ve suddenly unleashed.

His lips thin into a straight line as he glares at me from under a curtain of dark hair. I squirm and try to get loose, but he presses harder against me, his whole body covering every inch of mine. “You have no idea—” he whispers. And suddenly he crashes his lips against mine. My whole mind, my whole world, is instantly filled with his scent, his being.

I moan loudly and try to get free. I can’t do this! When I’m finally able to bend my head away, I pant and stare at him, shaking my head, my eyes locked with his.

Don’t do this to me!

I know how this will go. He will take, and I will let him, and I’ve been down that road. It led to nothing but pain. He takes a sudden step back and lets me go. Shoving a hand through his long hair, he licks his lips, as if tasting me. I’m unable to look away from his hypnotizing darkness. I remember all too well how those eyes sucked me in from the very first glance.

I break the spell first. “Where’s Cece?” She’s my first priority. Now. Always.

“Gimme a sec.” Christian peeks out into the main room and then comes back inside. “She’s sleeping under the table, on the rug.”

Okay… she’s okay… and I… Oh God! I slide along the wall until I sit, my legs unable to support my weight anymore. Christian crouches before me. I sob and curl up, fresh tears spilling over the old, dried ones.

“I love her,” I whisper, wiping my mouth repeatedly with the back of my hand, still feeling his lips, fighting the need for more.

“I know you do, Kerry.” His voice is so filled with warmth it makes another set of sobs wrack my chest.

“I was so alone. I didn’t have anyone to share it with. Not anyone. She is such a miracle and she filled me with so much life and— You should’ve seen her, smelled her when she was a newborn, they have a certain scent, powdery... have you—” I look up just in time to see him shake his head. “No, you haven’t. Of course you haven’t.”

I hold his gaze. For a brief moment I ache for him and what he’s missing in life by being who he is. I want him to know about her, and about what he’s been losing out on. Maybe I want him to hurt a little, make him realize he’s such a loser—doing what he does with his life.

I want him to get a glimpse of what he could have had.

What could have been.

“I have,” he says quietly, “once. My little sis. I was fifteen when she came. Mom got a little preoccupied. She never even breastfed Angela. Us brothers had to take turns with the bottle, and the diapers.” He frowns and looks away, a look of pain passing his face.

I cock my head as I take him in. Something changes in his whole demeanor, his gaze turns distant, something about him looks softer than I have ever seen before and a sudden surge of jealousy shoots through me, shocking me. I shouldn’t feel that way. Certainly not toward his sister. And why would I ever feel jealous about anything regarding him?

“What happened?”

Christian shakes his head, his eyes focusing on mine yet again. “It was bad times. We did what we could. Never mind. Tell me about Cecilia, please.”

I study him a few moments more, fighting the urge to reach out, to put a hand over his.

“Her first sound that wasn’t a hungry scream, or just sweet nonsense, wasn’t ‘mommy’.” I smile through the tears at the memory. “It was ‘amp’, like ‘lamp’ you know.”

I lace my fingers as I twist my hands nervously. My eyes can’t seem to keep looking into his for too long. It reminds me of too much. Things I don’t want to be reminded of. He chuckles, and when I glance at him again, he’s got a smile on his face and my heart, my stupid, stupid female heart jolts at the sight. Because he is so heartbreakingly beautiful to look at when his features lighten, and all the cruelty disappears as if it was never there to begin with.

“Amp,” he repeats. “That’s cute. You’d think it’d be ‘mommy’…” His voice falters. His gaze drifts toward the living room. “It should have been ‘mommy’,” he repeats, more to himself than to me.

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