Page 259 of Remy

Maybe she’s right.

Maybe he had no other choice.

But watching Ollie endure the shock of her father’s death, then having her torn from my life is going to take longer to compartmentalize, especially when I dedicated this week to liquor intake instead of forgiveness.

I’m on the journey. I’m sure I’ll reach the destination. I’m just not there yet.

What I can appreciate, though, is how fucking phenomenal it feels to have this woman back in my arms.

I know it’s not like it was before. Too many things have changed.

Yet for once in my life I have hope.

“Remy…” she whispers.

“Mmm?” I rub my hand over her lower back, trying to memorize everything about her in case it’s taken away again.

“Do you remember what you said before you left my father’s room?”

I flinch, not wanting to go back there. I’m sure I said a lot of things, all of them panic-fueled. “What did I say?”

“You told me you loved me.” Her voice is barely audible, the tone along with her words making me tense. “Do you think you could ever feel that way again?”

Is she kidding?

“Pyro, at this stage, I’m pretty sure you could light me on fire and that feeling wouldn’t stop.”

She doesn’t laugh like I’d hoped she would. Instead, she remains still, the most precious bundle in my arms. “I love you, Remy.” I hear her arduous swallow. “I can’t stop loving you.”

I remain tense as fuck. No words. No thoughts. No speech.

This doesn’t seem real.

She pulls back, her eyes glassy as they meet mine. “I’ve missed you so much this week, but after the way I acted, I couldn’t bring myself to reach out to you. Not when it was for my own selfish reasons.” She focuses on the ceiling, blinking rapidly. “But I feel entirely alone without you.”

I grab her hand and raise it to my lips, placing a kiss to her palm. “You never need to feel that way again. I’ll always be here for you.”

“Always?” She sniffs. “That’s a big commitment.”

I’d give her an even bigger one if I thought she’d want to hear it. But there’s no point daydreaming about what could be when the mending of our damaged bridges could be temporary.

I drag in a tired breath and place her hand back in her lap. “We need to talk about Hugo.”

Her eyes widen. “Oh, God. I forgot about him.” Her rapid blinks dissipate her watery sadness, replacing it with shock. “He knows about the retort. Not specifics, but enough to?—”

“I know.”

Her brow furrows. “Since when?”

“Since a few minutes before I walked into that catering kitchen. We’d been having words in the restroom.”

“That’s why your brother was guarding the door?”

I nod.

“What did he tell you?” she asks.

Truth is, he’d told me sweet fuck all by the time I jabbed that syringe into his thigh. All I’d had was the vague notion that he’d threatened Ollie and called her a whore. That had been more than enough. “He said something about having information. But he wasn’t forthcoming with the details.”

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