Page 94 of Property of Tacoma
I look over my shoulder at my brother, then back at Cali. “Come with me. Please, baby. Let me explain. Let me make this right.”
Please, God. Help me out here.
“There’s nothing to make right,” she whispers, but her voice breaks on the words. “You said what you meant.”
Goddamnit.
“No.” I shake my head vehemently. “No, I didn’t. I was scared, Angel. Terrified.”
She narrows her watery eyes and lets out a harsh laugh, her hand slapping against her chest. “Of what? Me?”
“Of losing you.” The admission rips from deep in my chest. “Of you leaving and never coming back. Of my kids getting attached and you disappearing, just like their mother does. I was so fucking scared that I pushed you away first.”
Her eyes search mine, and I can see the war raging inside her—the desire to believe me fighting against the hurt I caused.
“You hurt me,” she finally says, her voice small and broken in a way that destroys me. “You made me feel like I was nothing. Like what we had was nothing.”
“I know.” My throat tightens, and I have to force the words out past the lump forming there. “I know, baby, and I’m so fucking sorry. I would take it all back if I could. Every word, every second that I made you feel like you didn’t matter.”
She closes her eyes, tears spilling down her cheeks, mixing with the blood on her face. “I loved you. I loved your kids. I thought—” Her voice breaks. “I thought I finally found where I belonged.”
I bend my knees, getting eye level so she can see the truth in my words. “You did, baby. You did.”
I press my forehead to hers. “You do belong with us, Angel. You, me, Jagger, Saylor—we’re a family.”
“Families don’t do what you did.” She swallows. “They don’t throw each other away when things get hard.”
The accusation hits its mark, and I flinch.
She’s right.
I threw her away the first chance I got, too scared of being abandoned to realize I was the one doing the abandoning.
“TACOMA!” This time it’s Gator. “Blue lights!”
I look over my shoulder and see the flash of red and blue in the distance.
Fuck.
Turning back to Cali, I make a split-second decision.
I drop to my knees in front of her.
Her eyes widen in shock, and I hear Bane mutter, “Holy shit,” behind me.
I don’t care.
Let them see.
Let them all see me on my knees, begging for the woman I love.
“Please,” I say, looking up at her. “Please, Angel. I’m begging you. Give me another chance.”
“Tacoma—” Her voice is thick with tears.
“I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you,” I continue, my hands gripping her hips. “Every day, every moment. I’ll showyou what you mean to me, what you mean to my kids. Please, baby. Please forgive me.”
She’s crying openly now, her hands coming up to cover her face. “You really hurt me.”
