Page 412 of Rage

“Hey now, I’m no interior designer,” I shot back playfully. “But it’s festive enough, right?”

Mila crossed her arms, leaning against the doorway with an air of mock judgment. “Festive? This looks like it survived a snowstorm.”

“Yeah? Well, give me a chance.” I stepped forward, reaching for an ornament—a simple glass bauble—and held it up like a prize. “See? We can fix this together.”

She raised an eyebrow but took the ornament from me and carefully placed it on a lower branch. “Okay, Mr. Holiday Cheer. Let’s see if you can salvage this.”

I grabbed another ornament and joined her at the tree’s base, our fingers brushing as we decorated together in comfortable silence.

“You know,” she said after a moment, “you didn’t have to stay here while I was gone and do all this.”

I glanced at her sideways. “I wanted to be here—just in case.”

“Just in case what?”

“Just in case you needed me when you got back.”

Her expression softened as she looked down at the ornaments we had hung so far—each representing moments we’d shared or milestones we’d reached together since we met. We’d collected them the last few weeks while out on our dates.

I took a deep breath.

This was it—the moment I’d been dreading all day.

“There’s something I need to tell you,” I began, my eyes fixed on her reaction. “My father—he passed away while you were gone.”

Mila’s eyes widened, and her hands flew to her mouth in a dramatic display of surprise. “Oh my God, Beckett, I’m so sorry. When—?” her voice trailed off, her eyes searching mine.

I stepped forward and gently grasped her chin, my thumb brushing across her soft skin. “I know it was you,” I whispered, my gaze holding hers captive. “The watch. He was wearing the watch when they found him.”

Her eyes flickered away from me, and she let out a strangled cough.

“I—I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Her voice shook, and she took a step back, watching as my hand fell back to my side. I put my hands in the pockets of my jeans and waited until she looked at me again.

“Don’t, Mila. Don’t lie to me.” I took a step forward, closing the distance between us again. “I keep an unhealthy tab on the whereabouts of my father. You’re the only one who knows I stole that watch from him when I left. I saw the news article about his passing, and he was wearing that watch in the photo. The only part of him that wasn’t covered in blood at the scene.”

She swallowed, her eyes flicking downward briefly before meeting mine again. “I didn’t— I mean, I—” she trailed off, her eyes filling with tears.

I held her gaze, the weight of my father’s death heavy in the air between us.

“Mila, I’m not mad at you.” I took a deep breath, trying to steady my racing heart. “I’m upset that you put yourself in danger going there.”

Her brow furrowed, confusion mixing with pain. “I thought you’d understand. We both?—”

“Understand what?” I interrupted, my voice rising slightly before I reined it in. “You think I want you to risk your safety just to prove a point? That you are every bit as capable of exacting revenge against that piece of shit? Don’t you think Iknow that? You’re a goddamn warrior to me. But you just started feeling comfortable being outside the apartment. Now you’re off avenging me? That’s not how this works.”

She opened her mouth to argue but faltered, glancing away as if searching for the right words among the scattered ornaments on the floor. I softened my tone, trying to calm myself down because she was here. Standing in front of me. She’s not hurt.

But Christ, she could have been.

“I know why you did it,” I continued after a moment, keeping my voice steady. “And I appreciate it more than I could ever put into words. That man should have been wiped from the planet years ago. But I’m trying to keep you safe, baby. I know how sick that bastard is, and it would have killed me where I stood if I had read you died in that article instead of him.”

Mila wrapped her arms around herself as if trying to hold in all that anguish we had both fought against for so long. The flickering Christmas lights cast shadows across her face, accentuating the pain etched into her features.

“I thought…” she whispered, tears pooling in her eyes. “I thought if I could just... get rid of your demon, we could both finally forget.”

“Forget?” My voice dropped to a whisper. “There are things we will never be able to forget from our childhoods. But now we have each other and don’t have to face it alone. We aren’t alone anymore. You have to start getting that through your pretty stubborn head.”

“I’m sorry,” Mila whispered over and over as she walked into my outstretched arms, and I hugged her tight.

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