Page 198 of Never Die for a Sinner
“Well, I’ll be damned . . . you’re in love with her.”
“Fuck you.”
“I never thought I’d see the day,” he murmurs, shaking his head.
“Does it matter?”
He fixes me with a dark look. “It always matters.”
I shake my head, grab the bottle, and turn away from him. I swallow half of it and don’t feel a thing.
“She doesn’t need to be a part of this.”
“She already is. And now you’ve abandoned her.”
“I didn’t fucking abandon her,” I snap. “She fucking left. It’s better this way.”
“Bullshit,” he scoffs. “You think she gives a fuck that Dad used to beat you? Or that you have nightmares some nights? She fucking loves you, for some goddamned reason. You know how hard it is to find shit like that? Especially for assholes like us.”
I shake my head. He doesn’t get it.
“She doesn’t fucking want me,” I grit. He says nothing. “What about when Palmer shows up? What then?” He doesn’t respond when I stare at him. “Yeah, sure, I fucking love her. I love her so much that I’d rather live a life without her than a life with her fucking dead, even if it fucking kills me. Do you not understand that?”
The silence between us is heavy.
“Everyone’s willing to break the rules for someone . . .” he says finally. “Are you willing to let her walk away?”
I shake my head, turning away so he can’t see the agony coursing through me.
It’s been a week without her, and I feel like I’m going through withdrawals day in and day out. It’s like I need her to breathe, and I’m slowly suffocating without her.
It feels like she’s stolen the man I used to be, and now, I don’t know how to live.
“I loved Mila for years . . . Even when I knew I shouldn’t. It didn’t stop just because I said goodbye.”
I don’t know what to say, so I don’t.
“I know Dad did horrible shit to you. I know he beat the fuck out of you.”
“We can save this trip down memory lane. I’m really not in the mood.”
“Too fucking bad,” he grunts. “Bad shit happened, and you have to accept that you’ve got things you need to figure out . . . but don’t punish the girl for it.”
I grip the edge of the counter in the old barn, my hands tightening until my knuckles turn white.
He’s right. I’ve always been a stubborn son of a bitch. So much so that it’s fucked me over a fair few times.
I scrub a hand over my face, trying to push the image of her tear-streaked face out of my head. It’s haunted me since I came to this goddamned island, and nothing will chase it away.
From the moment I met her, I’ve taken from her and taken from her, while keeping her at arm’s length because I knew the moment I let her get too close, I would be fucked.
Now, I have to live with the consequences.
“Love isn’t all about protecting them,” Christian says, breaking through the tirade of thoughts swirling around my brain. “Sometimes you have to accept that they’re going to see your dark parts, and hope that they can still look at you the same after.”
I scoff under my breath.
My dark parts.
