Page 189 of Things We Left Behind
“Oh no, Lucifer. I’m not going anywhere until you tell mewhy mere hours ago, you were begging me to make you come, and now you’re Mr. Freeze.”
“I remembered all the reasons I don’t like you.”
She snorted. “Nice try. You never forgot them in the first place.”
“I spoke to Nash. He dug into my father’s arrest record and connected some dots.”
She remained silent.
“You jumped willingly into a dangerous situation.”
“So did you every time your parents fought,” she pointed out.
“That’s different. It was my responsibility. You never should have been there. I never should have told you what was happening. It’s bad enough that he ruined your plans. He could have ended your life. And you went over there willingly.”
Sloane crossed her arms over her chest. “Because you loved her. Because you wanted to keep her safe. And because I couldn’t stand another minute of you being locked up for a crime he committed.” She spoke softly, firmly.
“He broke your wrist in three places. You had to have surgery. All your plans, your dreams, everything gone because you couldn’t listen to me and do the right thing.”
Snap.
My freedom wasn’t worth that. Mylifewasn’t worth that.
Snap.
“Lucian,” she said carefully.
“What?” I realized I was yelling. I didn’t raise my voice like him. I didn’t have to. “What?” I repeated quietly.
“I’m sorry for not listening to you when you asked me not to call the police. I had no idea that would happen. But I’m not sorry for what I did to get you out.”
I turned my back on her so I wouldn’t be tempted to shake some sense into her, decades-old panic and anger rearing their ugly heads.
“I still feel sick about what happened that night, what I saw, what you must have lived with for so long,” she continued. “I know how lucky I am that things didn’t end differently. I’vewasted a lot of time over the past several years thinking about the what-ifs. What if I’d gotten there too late? What if he hurt my dad? What if he’d gotten away with it? But I have never once regretted the way things worked out. He went to jail, and you got out. Justice was served.”
I turned to face her even though I didn’t want to look at her. “There’s no such thing as justice,” I spat.
“That sounds like a conversation neither one of us has time for.”
“You have someone actively threatening you. Not only did you not think to mention it to me, you’re also not taking it seriously. It’s fucking selfish again.”
She gasped and the fight in her eyes flared to life. “Selfish? You think me putting your father in jail so everyone would know who the real monster was is selfish?”
“You deciding you know what’s best for everyone is selfish. You refusing to take the bare minimum of safety precautions once again is selfish. You putting yourself in danger is selfish.”
She took a step toward me and laid her palms on my chest. “You’re really starting to piss me off, and I don’t like to be pissed off on Thursdays because it’s Lunch Swap Thursday, and I like Lunch Swap Thursdays. So I’m going to say this. I’m sorry for my part in all of it. I’m sorry for not doing what you needed me to do or not being what you needed me to be. I’m sorry for making it seem like I’m not taking these threats seriously, because I am. I’m freaking the fuck out that someone decided to throw a pile of dead rats on my front porch!Nowcan we talk about whatever this is like adults, or are you going to double down on shoving your head up your ass?”
She was yelling by the end of her tirade. Her chin jutted out as she glared up at me. I wanted to kiss her. To lock her in a bedroom and keep her safe. I wanted to shake her until her teeth rattled and she saw reason. That she never should have gotten involved. That once again, being close to me had brought her up against danger.
But this time, I could do something about it.
“I need to get back to the city, and you need to go home,” I announced. “This little fuck fest is over.”
“Doubling down, I see,” she quipped. “Fine.”
She gripped the hem of the T-shirt she wore and dragged it over her head. Sloane Walton was naked in my kitchen. I wasn’t sure how many fantasies of mine had started that way, but it was at least a thousand.
“Keep the shirt,” I insisted.
