Page 122 of Exodus

We stare off for endless seconds before I finally speak. “You want to know why I’m here?” I turn back to the grave. “I never left.”

The gate squeaks as he walks through and stands next to me to peer down to where Dominic lies. And for several minutes, I know our collective thoughts are all about him and the moments before he left us.

Raw ache spreads through my chest as I try to imagine what it was like for Tobias to bury his brother. As I try to imagine the crowd of people I grew to love all those years ago, who were gathered here collectively mourning his passing; it was something I was deprived of.

“I have to believe that forgiveness is possible, because if I don’t, if I don’t...Tobias, I won’t be able to live like this, I can’t live like this anymore. I want so much to make peace with the naïve girl I was. Not to blame myself for what happened but—”

He shakes his head as if to refute the idea.

“I want so much to move on as you all seem to have,” I admit. “I do, but it’s been impossible for me. I never got the chance to say goodbye,” I say, choking on my words.

Briefly, his stare flits with emotion before his expression grows cold and unforgiving. It’s everything I expected and nothing I would ever want.

“I’m here for the same reason you are. To mourn him. To miss him. I have a right to be here.” His empty stare rips me to shreds. Part of me wants to retreat safely back into the life I had just days before, to beg Collin to forgive me, and take back the future I destroyed, but I know better. And the reason is standing in front of me, a shell of the man I once knew.

“You need to go home, Cecelia.”

I huff, gathering my jacket from the ground and sliding it on. “You should know that’s the last thing I’ll do.”

“You never could make things easy.”

“So, we are blaming me?” I take a step toward him, and his nostrils flare as though the mere scent of me is repulsive. I take that hit to the chest, knowing I may never get more than this.

“I should have been the one to die that night,” I press, “do you hate me because I didn’t?”

“I don’t blame anyone but Dominic for his decision.”

“I don’t think you mean that.”

“I do. It’s not your fault. But I say a lot of things I don’t mean when you’re around me. That stops the second you see yourself out.”

To be so close to him now without touching him is devastating. In a matter of minutes, the longing I’ve felt for years intensifies ten-fold as I linger in my own manicured shell, holding onto the high for the split second he allows us in close proximity. He feels it too. I know he does. I lost my heart the minute we connected on a molecular level. Somewhere between the games we played and the love I gave him, I lost a lot more.

One mistake, one night, it cost us all.

It’s clear he doesn’t trust me. Maybe he thinks I have an agenda.

And to a point, I do.

But it’s obvious now that agenda was the same pathetic attempt to liberate myself from his hold. And all of that hope disappears the longer he glares at me, the more I become swept up in his volatile depths. He taught me everything I know. And together, he and his brothers taught me love in every degree.

But this man hosts the hottest fire.

I’ll love him my whole life, and I’ll despise him too for what he took away, for the way he discarded me, shunned me, cast me out. And I allowed it because of the price he paid, but I’ve been paying too, and it’s time he knows it. I turn and face him fully.

“I loved him.”

He drops his gaze. “I know.”

“But not the way I loved you.”

His eyes snap to mine. I know it’s not the time, but I have no idea if I’ll ever get the chance again. I never told him, not once, but I’m now in the business of truth. I have absolutely nothing left to lose.

“And whether that matters or not, I deserve to grieve him. And I deserve answers from you.”

“I don’t want you here.”

“Have you ever?”

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