Page 118 of What About Love

“That’s right, I don’t. What happened was horrific, but how do you know it would have been different if you’d been there? The outcome could have very well been the same, except with a third victim. This is not on you, T. You have to find a way to move past it.”

“Is that right?” He whirled back around, fingers wrapping around her upper arms as he pulled her up on her toes. With his anger smoldering like hot coals, his voice grated harshly, containing a bitter edge of cynicism that could not be missed. “Why don’t you tell me how I do that, detective? How do I get over the guilt of going out for a beer that night instead of being there to protect my family? How do I get past the memories of finding them bloody and lifeless on the kitchen floor? I still relive it in nightmares and wake in a cold sweat. It was worse than anything I saw in Afghanistan.”

Releasing her, he took a step back, looking at her but clearly not seeing.

“I don’t know that my being home would have made a difference, but I feel in my heart if I’d been there, they would both still be alive. The guilt eats at me to this day. Back then, I couldn’t look at myself in the mirror or stay in that house. It was too painful, so I put it up for sale.”

His voice had changed, no longer angry, now hoarse and raw with emotion, speaking as though lost in his memories.

“As I was packing, I found Emily’s journal. I never knew she kept one until that day. I read it. At first, I couldn’t believe what she’d written, but how could I dispute the truth by her own hand? It was like a confession from the grave.” He stopped and Angie thought for a moment that he was done. When he continued, it was in a vacant, awful voice. “I’ll tell you something you don’t know, nor do the guys, not even my mother. She wasn’t sure Evan was mine.”

Angie choked on an inhaled breath, her hand flying to her mouth. He either didn’t hear or ignored her, going on in a distant voice.

“Most likely he wasn’t. He had white-blond hair and light-blue eyes. Emily was a redhead but was fair as a child. I saw pictures of her as a baby, so I never doubted he was ours. But in her journals, she wrote about an affair with someone she didn’t name. At first, I was numb then came the rage. Never have I felt such blinding fury. It wasn’t so much about Emily or that she was unfaithful. It was more about what she’d stolen from me. She took Evan, or at least the sweet memories I had left of him, and tainted them. Not being a parent, you wouldn’t understand, but the love you feel for a child, when he’s laid small and defenseless in your hands, it’s a feeling of joy unlike any other. When you lose a child, the pain is agonizing, as if a chunk of your heart, no...your very soul has been ripped away. It felt like I lost him twice, to a senseless death and through his mother’s betrayal. Not that I love him any less, but now every thought I have is tarnished with doubts, ones I can’t separate from my memories of her, of him, and the time we had together.”

“Oh, T,” she breathed. “I’m so sorry.”

“Save it. I don’t need pity.”

“It isn’t pity, honey. It’s compassion.” An awkward silence fell over the room interrupted only by the ticking of her hallway clock. “You suffered a profound loss,” she said at length, “one I can’t begin to fathom. And, I understand being afraid to risk your heart again, but...don’t you need something more in your life?”

Like love, she wanted to say but didn’t.

“What I don’t need is another lying, manipulative woman.” His words, sharp and biting, flayed at her heart and cut so deep she took an involuntary step backward.

“That’s not me, T,” she whispered. “I’m not Emily.”

“Your interrogation of my mother over lunch tells me otherwise.”

“You’ve got it wrong. I didn’t—”

He cut her off.

“At least you’ve gotten your explanation of why I am like I am and why this can’t work between us. I don’t want it to. I was content. As a single dom, I controlled the scene, everything about it. I chose who, where, how, and for how long. I also made sure that there were no strings, that I would be free of the relationship bullshit that follows. No betrayals, no hurt...nothing to lose.”

As she blinked back the tears that threatened, her heart ached for him and his devastated soul. “That seems like a very lonely existence. What about love? Can you live out your life without that?”

There, she’d said it. But her question hung heavy in the air, unanswered.

“I’m sorry for not telling you about my talk with your mother first thing, but you didn’t exactly give me time. I didn’t think that was something to discuss over the phone while you were away working, either. Although I doubt that would have made the outcome any different. You’re so closed off sometimes. You hide your pain behind laughter and a love ’em or leave ’em bravado. Maybe if you’d talk about it.”

“Don’t, Angie. You can’t fix or save me. More experienced and practiced subs than you have tried.”

He strode to the door and opened it. With his back to her, his voice became flat, emotionless almost, the anger gone. He sounded—resigned.

“Cap has a case out of town that I’m going to take. Likely I’ll be away a month, maybe longer. I’ll get him to reassign you to someone else. When I get back, let’s keep it professional.”

“What about the club? Are you going to reassign me there, too?” She couldn’t keep the bitterness out of her voice.

She saw his back go rigid and his fingers curl into fists. He felt something for her; she was sure of it. He was simply too damn afraid to admit it.

“If you want a recommendation on a new dom, see Dex. He’ll hook you up with someone patient, and maybe someone who can give you what you need.” He turned back, torment discernable in his face. “I tried to warn you, Angie. That man isn’t me.”

“I tried to stay away. But each time you dragged me back.” Her voice broke. Unable to keep the tears at bay any longer, they rolled down her cheeks in a torrent of misery.

“Yeah, you did. And I’m a selfish prick for not letting you go.”

The door closed with a soft snick of the lock when he left. To Angie, it was the loudest, most deafening sound she had ever heard because it was the sound of the end.

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