Page 155 of Promises in the Dark

“My old man,” I finally managed. “He was a drunk. A mean fucking drunk. Beat the shit out of me whenever he felt like it. And that was pretty fucking often.”

She didn’t say shit right away, just watched me with those piercing eyes, like she could see every ugly part of me I didn’t want anyone to see. She didn’t push, didn’t pry further like I expected her to, and for that, I was grateful. Red understood when to back off, when to let things be. That was rare in people.

“I’m so sorry. I had no idea.”

I shrugged, playing it off like it didn’t still fuck me up sometimes. “Ancient history. But that name... it belongs to that kid. The weak little shit who couldn’t do anything but take it. I don’t want to be him anymore.”

She nodded, searching my face, not pressing too hard but not letting it slide either. “I understand. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

I was about to steer the conversation somewhere else, anywhere else, when she hit me with another question, like she wasn’t done digging into me yet.

“Can I ask you something else then?”

I braced myself, already wondering what landmine she was about to step on. “I’m all ears, little one.”

Her hand stayed on my chest, soft and steady. Her eyes softened too, making it harder for me to bullshit her.

“Why don’t you ever call me by my name?”

I blinked, caught off guard. “What do you mean?”

“You always call me ‘Red’. You don’t call anyone by their real names. Pyro, Viper, Raven, Dr. Dumbass—whatever insult you dream up for him. You give everyone nicknames.”

I let out a long breath, feeling the walls closing in. “Fuck, little one, you don’t miss a thing, do you?”

She raised an eyebrow, waiting for a real answer.

Shit. I’d never realized she’d picked up on that. I swallowed hard, trying to find an answer that didn’t make me sound like a complete asshole.

“It’s a way to keep my distance, I guess,” I admitted. “Names... they mean something. Calling someone by their name, that’s too personal. And getting personal in this line of work? That’s just asking for pain. You never know when someone’s gonna get their head blown off.”

“So, you don’t get close to anyone?” she asked, her voice tinged with something like disappointment that made me want to punch myself in the face.

I hesitated, then shook my head. “I try not to.”

Her hand slid up to my face, and she cupped my cheek, making me look at her.

“Then what’s this?” she asked, her tone a little firmer. “What are we?”

I clenched my jaw, unsure how to respond. What were we? Something more than just teammates, that was for sure. We’d been through hell together, shared moments most people wouldn’t understand. But putting a label on it, giving it a name, made it feel too real. Too dangerous.

“I don’t know.”

That hurt, that flicker of disappointment, it nearly gutted me. She didn’t say anything, but she didn’t have to. It was written all over her face, and I hated myself for it.

She wanted more, she was waiting for me to give her something. Anything to prove I wasn’t just stringing her along.

But I couldn’t.

Not because I didn’t want to. Fuck, I wanted it more than anything. There was something about her, something that crawled under my skin and refused to leave. But this... us... whatever the hell it was, it couldn’t be real. It couldn’t last. And I wasn’t the kind of man who could give her what she deserved.

She deserved someone better. Someone who wasn’t broken in a million goddamn pieces, someone who didn’t have to numb himself with violence just to get through the day. She needed someone who could give her stability, safety. Not this... not the fucked-up mess that was me.

So yeah, when I saw the way her eyes dropped, the way her shoulders slumped just a little, like she was trying to keep herself together, it made me feel like the biggest piece of shit on the planet. I didn’t mean to hurt her, but I did. And that? That shit killed me.

I stayed fucking quiet, watching her piece herself back together, pretending like the hurt didn’t burn in my gut. She wouldn’t push me, wouldn’t demand answers I couldn’t give. She’d always been like that. Stubborn, yes, but not cruel. And somehow, that made it worse.

I looked at her, standing there with that damn fire in her eyes, like she was holding on by a thread but still but breaking. She was too good for this. Too good for me.

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