We watch as Jose leaves, the bloody water trickling away down a nearby drain.
“So what’s your plan, fuck me, torture me, and kill me? Talk about holding a grudge.” She directs her question at Caleb, knowing he’s calling the shots as I play mediator like a parent between squabbling children. “You have no say in how I live my life,” she adds.
“If I remember correctly, you’re our wife,” Caleb shoots back at her.
She looks shocked, her mouth agape, and I’m right there with her. I hadn’t expected my brother to go there. To her credit, it only takes a moment or two for her to school her features.
“That shambles of a union behind your father’s barn doesn’t count. I ate that ring pop lolly in record time, so you have no evidence.”
“It wasbinding,” my brother adds.
“We were kids.”
“I don’t make the rules, Dove,” I add unhelpfully. I know she’s right, but calling her our wife sends a little shiver of excitement up my spine, and I’m enjoying it way too much. Age doesn’t change the fact that she happily agreed to be ours—that’s resolute enough for me, fuck what the law says.
“You were asked very clearly if you took us as your husbands, and you said yes.”
“Between licks of your new ring I might add,” Caleb chimes in as his darkened gaze flicks to her mouth.
I raise a brow and lock eyes with him, silently relaying just how good her mouth felt when she licked— His hand slapping me around the head obliterates the thought entirely.
“You know strawberry anything is my favourite,” she snaps back, and I can’t contain my laughter. Yes, we were kids playing around, but it’s still a memory I cherish. Seeing her wrapped in our mother’s white netted tablecloth as it draped down over her shoulder, a handful of wilting wild flowers in her grip. Our Dove had dreams, big ones, and she lived for the moment, never knowing when or if she might be ripped away from it; from us. Caleb and I didn’t hesitate to agree when she had asked us to do this with her; secretly we both knew Ebony was the one—the air around us charged with energy even back then. We had no idea what we were doing, but we knew it was a commitment she needed in that moment. Her way of feeling a semblance of loving safety, a way to block out what was happening to her at home. We didn’t hesitate to be her calm as she weathered her storms.
It’s why watching her betray us hurt as bad as it did.
We protected her when we could, and that day beneathherwillow tree behind our father’s barn overlooking the stream where we had first seen her, the nature and our horses the only witnesses, we vowed to always be hers. I see now the moment she realises we meant every single word of our promise to her. She doesn’t try to reason with us further, a pensive wash of sadness creeping across her sullen expression as she chews on her lip.
Devotion as gut deep as ours is an inconsolable entity when stripped from its intended. Three broken hearts, wandering through life, desperate to be reunited with their counterparts.
As though she can read my thoughts, sadness swamps her gaze as her lower lip bobs. “You promised you would come back for me—you’re both liars of the worst kind. At least men like Bobby are forthcoming with how they plan to treat me like shit. You two made me think I was safe with you.” She struggles to hide the broken sob that barrels out of her mouth, the indignation bleeding like black tar and eclipsing the soft violet of her eyes.
I don’t react—even though my chest is aching with the emotional pummelling her words inflict on my heart.
“If someone hadn’t shopped us into the police, we would never have had to leave in the first place,” Caleb roars in her face, any sign of softness for her gone in a flash as he grits his teeth. The accusation lands as intended, and I watch her gaze harden. Her sadness making way for frustration—at us—at herself. It’s hard to place. Pissing my brother off is an artform I’ve enjoyed perfecting over the years, but allowing Ebony back in would be what tips himover the edge; I’m sure of it. Fileted in the name of love isn’t how I want my day to end.
“It wasn’t like that. It…I…” she mumbles with a glare, trying her hardest to remain neutral as she does a poor job of pleading her case.
CALEB
I’ve gotten used to watching Ebony from afar; being this close to her is an assault on my senses, and hating her is getting harder as each second passes. I steel my spine and remind myself of the years spent locked up, of the beatings and the torture at the hands of doctorsexploring in the name of science.Of all the people who had wronged me in my life, it was her betrayal that cut me the deepest. For that, she deserved to be punished. My brother wanted vengeance from the pretty girl down the street that watched with sad violet eyes as we were loaded onto that bus in handcuffs, but it’s clear to me now, that might not be his driving force anymore. I worry that the longer I stand here, staring down at the girl I once loved, it will be harder to hold onto the pain I’ve felt for so long. This thought is exactly why I keep my mouth shut where she is concerned.
“Coop, the machine.” He’s practically giddy as he saunters over to our newly acquired Range Rover with the fake plates, lifting out the holdall Jose hadgiven him. We had paid a little extra for the last part of our plan. Our old tattoo guns were likely buried in the rubble that was our childhood home, sold at the local pawn shop, or discarded in a trash heap somewhere, so we would have to settle for the same make as the one she used that day.
“Machine?” Ebony utters breathlessly, but I pay her no mind. I like the wave of unease that permeates from her skin like a visible heat as she tugs against my hold.
Pull all you want, darlin—you ain’t going nowhere.
She watches as Cooper sets up the tattoo machine and pulls on a pair of latex gloves. It isn’t the most hygienic setup we’ve ever had, but knowing Jose is used to cleaning up a crime scene, and the scent of bleach that lingers in the air, I know the car has been scrubbed well.
I start to guide her forward, but she pushes back against my chest.
Spinning her to face me, I get up close enough that she can feel my breath on her skin. Skimming my thumb over her parted full lips, I fight the urge to taste her. Knowing I won’t be able to pull myself back if I cross that line.
Taking a step back, her eyes fall to where my shirt is open, the tattoo etched over my heart that matches my brother’s—they were the first ink designs we ever got, and it was our little Dove here who held the gun. I see the glittering of nostalgia that fills her eyes as it gets her attention, her hand reaching up instinctively to caress the skin like she used to when we held her after our swims in the lake. I had played three rounds of heads or tails the day we first saw her swimming out back, just so I could leave her my towel. So enraptured by the raven-haired beautycheeky enough to explore on private land. She had claimed us even then.
The buzz of the radio has music echoing through the carpark, jarring Ebs, and long gone is the comfort that the memory of us had just instilled in her.
“A promise is a promise, Dove. You marked us; it’s only fair we get to return the favour.”
