“Why? I’m done tiptoeing around you. The others might, but I won’t. I see the pain in your eyes, I know because I used to see it in mine. Someone hurt you, someone you trusted. Someone you loved. It changes you, it breaks you down, and in its place is a broken creature. One whose whole world crumbled. I know,” I yell, “because that was me.” I quiet then, breathing heavily. “It still is sometimes, I’m still running from it. Still living in fear like I’m that same little girl.”

He becomes motionless, his eyes flicking between mine, so I surge forward, baring my soul even though it hurts to flay myself open for him. “I trusted him, Garrett. I loved him like a child should.” Tears fill my eyes, and I hate that show of weakness, knowing he still has that power. “Every fist, every kick, or spat word broke me down. I became nothing but a survivor, living from one day to the next, and even now…even now when I’m free of him, I did the same, losing myself in booze and sex so I didn’t have to face myself. Want to hear the kicker? He still managed to fuck my life over by selling me. He fucking sold me.” I laugh bitterly. “As if ruining my whole fucking childhood wasn’t enough, he went ahead and sold me. But you know what? I’m tired of running. I hate him. I want him to pay, but more than that, I want to be free of those claws still inside me. I don’t know how to do that, but I’m trying. You have to try, Garrett, because I see it in your eyes—you’re in survival mode, still fighting, living day to day, but that’s no way to live. I’ll stop running if you stop fighting.”

He drops me and turns away. “I don’t know how,” he admits.

I don’t touch him, I know he hates that, so instead I circle around his body to face him. “First step? Admit it to yourself. You need to heal, Garrett, or your foundations will crumble. I’m not saying you have to talk to me, but I’m here if you need to. But so are your brothers. They’re out there, and they love you.”

“And you?” he rasps, watching me, his eyes raw.

“Me? I don’t hate you…all the time.” I smirk.

“Why? Why are you trying to help me?” he asks, and it seems important.

“Honestly? I don’t know. Maybe because I see myself in you. Or maybe I’m bored, maybe I’m doing it for purely selfish reasons. Either way, I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere. We have to find a way to live together. If you really do hate me, we can work out a schedule so you can avoid me, if that will help,” I suggest, and then hold my breath.

He swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing and fists clenching. “I don’t hate you. That’s the problem, baby, don’t you see that?” He shakes his head bitterly. “I don’t hate you, I care way too much…but the last person I did—”

“Hurt you,” I finish. “Okay, so we take this one step at a time. I’m not asking for marriage.” I grin, and he laughs. “Just a truce, if we can manage it. I’ll stop pushing you for a reaction, and you can stop trying to choke or kill me…okay, maybe the kill me part. Feel free to choke me any time, it’s pretty hot actually.”

He chuckles again, but it finishes in a groan. “You can’t talk to me like that.” He shakes his head. “I want you, I do, but I can’t…I would kill you…I don’t even know if I can be with someone like that again. You should stick to the others, to someone who can give you what you need. Not a broken fuck up.”

“So try.” I shrug. “Find out for real. It doesn’t have to be now, but think about it. I won’t lie, I find you attractive and I wouldn’t kick you out of bed.”

“And I thought you hated us,” he scoffs.

“Oh, I still do, it’s annoying as hell, but I’m trying here. Orgasms tend to lessen hate, and let’s face it, we both know this is my life now. I’m just done fighting against it.”

He sighs before sitting on his upturned bed and hanging his head in his hands. “Yeah, it is. We’re fucked up men, we shouldn’t have accepted the deal.”

“Maybe, maybe not. It’s in the past though, no point dwelling on it. What’s done is done. I’m one of you now, and it’s time I learned what that means and start acting like it. It won’t be easy, I’m still pissed and might take it out on you guys, but I’ll try to understand…or they can just fuck it out of me.”

He groans but goes quiet for a while, so I just sit here with him. Rich taught me that it’s okay to just be there, to let them know you are here if they need you. He sat outside my bedroom like that every night for a year. Every time I woke up screaming or scared, he was there, and it helped.

“Your dad…one day, you will tell us?” he whispers.

“Yes, one day.” I nod.

He sighs. “Then one day I’ll tell you as well, baby.” He looks at me, and the word ‘baby’ on his lips has me shifting to ignore the heat pulsing through me. This man is capable of such destruction, such evil. Yet I want him so much. I want him to destroy me in the best way.

“Good. So where do we go from here?” I laugh.

“We-we try to get along. To stop fighting each other just because we’re scared of what the other represents.” He nods and looks around. “I better clean this up.” He sighs and heaves to his feet.

“I’ll help. I caused it, after all.” He turns and offers me his hand. He’s done this before, but this feels more important, like a fresh start, so I let him pull me to my feet, and this time, he doesn’t let go straightaway, he smiles down at me, his touch lingering.

“Thank you.”

I nod and, without a word, get started. We work together in sync, aware of where the other is. I make sure not to touch him or brush by too closely as I throw wood away and sweep the floor while he straightens the bed and hangs the bag. I pile his stuff from his drawer on the side, wincing when I find the ring. I don’t ask though, I put it on top. I can feel his eyes, but he’s shared enough for the day, so I carry on working like nothing happened.

When we’re done, we head back downstairs. Diesel grins at us and wiggles his eyebrows as he throws a knife at cans lined up on the table. “Did you two fuck and make up? I heard a lot of crashing, but thought I would leave you to it.”

I laugh. “The phrase is kiss and make up, crazy pants.”

He frowns, suddenly serious. “Well, that’s a boring way to make up.”

“You know what? You’re right.” I grin and head his way. “Can I try?”

He holds the knife above my head. “Are you going to use it on either me or Garrett?” Not that he seems put off by the idea, more curious.

“Why? We both know you would enjoy it.” I wink before punching him in the gut. He bends over, wheezing, and I pluck the blade from his hand and turn to the cans as he laughs breathlessly.

“I’m gonna marry her,” he tells Garrett, but I ignore that, taking it as just another one of his crazy ramblings.

“You have to ask her, genius.” Garrett chuckles.

“Nah, I’ll just put a ring on her finger one day and tell her it happened,” he declares earnestly.

Rolling my eyes, I toss the knife like Rich once taught me. It hits the can and knocks it off. Whooping, I turn to them with a smirk. “Remember that when you piss me off next time.” Stalking around the table, I grab the knife and wander back over as they watch me in shock.