Page 7 of Heartfelt Pain
“Because for five years you’ve walked around like a wounded animal.”
His words are a shot to my already battered heart. I curl my fingers into the waistband of my stained jeans, stopping my hand from clapping over the vital organ.
“I’m not a wounded animal,” I murmur, raking a hand through my hair. My clothes stick to me thanks to the sweat. This week’s rain makes the city into a sweltering pit of humidity.
“No?” Dima prods. “Oh, so you’re just a caged one.”
I should’ve kept the bay door closed while I changed the oil in my car. It’d have been easier to keep Dima away.
“You loved that girl,” my uncle says.
“Yeah,” I admit.
Ren Callahan is fucking imprinted on my God damn soul. And fuck if everyone in my family doesn’t know it.
But I’m taken aback when my uncle says, “You either have to get over it or get her back.”
A bitter laugh catches in my throat. Ren’s more likely to hire her best friend to put a hit out on me than ever take me back. The only reason she hasn’t is because her business means more to her. She can’t be an impartial party to various transactions if she starts a war by offing a Zimin.
“I did get overit.”
Dima raises an eyebrow. “If you were over it you’d start talking to your dad again.”
“It’s called boundaries.” I fight the urge to pick up another tool off the workbench. Elijah swaggers about and Max stays eerily still. I fidget. Dad tried his best to beat it out of me.
Don’t give yourself away.That's what he used to tell us.
Funny, how he never mentioned it was fine so long ashewanted us to give ourselves away.
Dima, his perception on point, follows my thoughts.
“Being angry at your father is one thing, but at some point you gotta own up to the choicesyoumade.”
I frown at his emphasis.
“We all do things in this line of work. Things we may or may not be proud of. Things that test us,” Dima explains. “For the better of our family, we make sacrifices. We fuck shit up as your dear brother Elijah tends to say.”
That’s what I did. I fucked Ren’s life up.
I took the girl in sneakers and jeans, the one newly arrived from the Midwest. I made sure she fell in love with me because that’s what Dad wanted. Except she got under my skin in a way I’d never experienced before.
I know everything about Ren. Or at least I did. I know she drinks a dangerous amount of soda. That without her planner she’d be scatterbrained.
I helped her learn the ins and outs of Aunt Macy’s business. She didn’t know what the fuck a triggerman was before she took over for Aunt Macy. Now there’s not a fucking hired gun she doesn’t know in this city.
“You can keep blaming your dad.” Dima levels me with a look, crooking his neck so he can try to catch my eye. I steadily look at my shoe. “Fuck knows he’s not the greatest father. But guess what, kid? You agreed to the plan. And when you got in there and started going a little sweet on the girl, guess what?”
Something chafes in my chest.
“You dug in deeper,” Dima says. “You made the decision to keep going. Keep acting like your dad fucked you over. You know the truth—you did that all on your own.”
It takes an inordinate amount of effort to keep from flying off the handle.
“You come all the way here just to say that?” I ask after a moment.
Dima’s face softens into the old, tired-looking man that he is. “I’m a concerned uncle. But maybe it’s time you get some tough love.”
“Or maybe you’re just tired of hearing my dad bitching about all of this.”
