Page 48 of Broken Saint

I know for a while I had believed that very thing. When I'd been in high school, I saw the future so brightly. I had plans for college and beyond. I had not seen what actually happened coming. Some would call that naive. I'd known from an early age that we were not a typical family. My mother and father had favored my brothers over me and my sister. I'd also known they were being groomed to join the family business. And I'd overhead enough over the years to know that my father's business wasn't good.

"You really are an optimistic Boy Scout." I laughed when I said it, but the bitterness behind my words was unmistakable. I simply didn't have the luxuries he did. Did that mean I was giving up and giving in? Hell no. I'd come too far and gone to great lengths to find a way out. I refused to give up.

"I'm hardly any kind of scout. Hell, I wasn't even a boy for long. In my world, you grow up fast. Even more so when blood-soaked violence taints everything around you."

I glanced up and stared at him. Was he talking about me or himself? My inner alarms were clanging again, and I thought for a second maybe I shouldn't shut them down this time. I had a healthy dose of paranoia going on at any given time, but for good reason.

"What exactly does that mean?" Maybe, with anyone else, there could be a chance. With him, I was too scared to risk it. Although I was dying a little inside with the need to confess everything to him. I just—I just couldn't drag him into my dangerous world.

"I was ten, the first time I saw a man take someone's life. He may have deserved it, but at the time, I couldn't process it properly, and for a while, it became what I thought was normal. But killing is not normal, and becoming desensitized to it is a fatal mistake."

My blood froze. Seriously, it iced over and I felt the door closing on my ability to ever confide in Rock Reed. The man I believed I was falling in love with. If I wasn't already there.

Pain bloomed in my chest, nearly cutting off my ability to breathe. It weighed on me like a plate of heavy weight that I couldn't remove.

"You're right," I whispered. "It's not normal." And yet…

He reached up and touched my cheek. "I'm lucky I got out when I did. My brother, too. Although I wish I could have taken him with me and saved him from what he went through to get out."

I leaned into his palm. He wasn't talking about me, I could see it in his eyes. Painful memories were haunting him. The fact though, that we'd gone through parallel childhood nightmares tore at my heart. We kind of had a lot in common.

What doesn't kill you makes you stronger.

That was the mantra that I had lived by for five years and I needed it now more than ever.

"What happened?" I asked, almost afraid to hear it. I knew it had to be bad for this strong, giant of a man to look so lost.

"Our mother. She paid the ultimate price because of the MC, and I wasn't there to stop it."

"I'm sure you weren't to blame."

He nodded. "I wasn't. But who knows. When our fathers were fighting over the gun, maybe if I'd been there, I could have done something to stop it before it went off."

I closed my eyes at his words as his pain washed over me. God, I could almost physically feel it as it rolled through him.

"Houston was there. He tried to stop it and couldn't. It tore him to pieces, especially when his father went to jail for her death, and it took him meeting Izzy ten years later to finally begin to heal."

"What about you? When did you heal?" I don't know what made me ask that question. I was obviously ripping open an old wound that I had no business touching.

"I don't know. Over time, I guess. Isn't that the saying? Time heals all wounds. Besides, I'd left long before it happened. I was young and angry and burning with the desire to be nothing like my dad. Her death only made the resolve stronger. I would do anything to make it so I never had to go back."

I slowly exhaled the air I didn't realize I'd been holding. I was so so tired. And the buzz I’d had going had officially worn off. I loved that Rock had such strong convictions, but the knowledge that his black and white views were never going to fit into my gray world solidified.

He’d endured what sounded like a long road to escape a family that caused him pain, and it wouldn’t be right for her to drag him into another that could, and likely would, end up worse.

"We should get back." I managed to say the words, albeit barely. I knew the moment we returned to the real world all of this would end. I would have to say goodbye and let him go.

Before Rock could respond, the familiar sound of an iPhone chime signaling a text pealed. We both reached for our phones. Upon inspection, my phone was not the culprit. I looked up at Rock to see his brows raised and knitted together in what look like some serious concern.

"Problem?" I asked.

"Yeah. And I'm sorry, but we do have to go back, and I'm going to have to drop you off."

"Okay." Relief swept through me as I realized we wouldn't have time to discuss what was next. Thus, buying me a little more time before I had to say goodbye. With the fashion debut happening tomorrow night, I figured it was for the best. I needed to get some work done before the chaos set in and since I doubted I would be able to sleep tonight, I'd have some time to get things done.

We gathered our things and climbed back on the bike. The entire ride back I reveled in the heat of his back against my front. This might be the last time we'd be this close again and I wasn't going to miss out this last chance to feel close.

By the time we arrived back at the hotel, the constant wind in my face had wiped the last trace of my tears from sight. As I climbed from the back of his bike, I swallowed past the lump in my throat and turned to head inside.

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