I’m even more worried Cain won’t be able to move past this and forgive himself. Cain might seem like the most well-adjusted of the three of us, but in some ways he’s the least.
Whereas Rome has built a faith system, and I have my music, what does Cain do? When he can’t deal, he hurts himself. Or rather he lets others hurt him, in those damned fight clubs, but that tendency? That need? It bothers me. What if he does something really stupid?
Would he harm himself irrevocably? The thought sits heavy in my mind because I truly fear he might. The guilt must be eating him alive. He already blames himself for his father hitting his brother all those years ago and leaving him deaf, and now this?
Fuck.
I push out of bed and head to the living room. As I near the space, I suck in a breath at the sense of trepidation that hits me. Half of me is dreading that I’ll find Cain holding his own gun to his head. The image makes my chest ache. I love him like a brother, and seeing him so broken yesterday by the news of his father’s betrayal fucking hurts.
Instead, I find him on the couch, head lolling to one side, and an arm dangling off the cushion with a half empty bottle of scotch still in his hand.
Great. So, he’s taking the drinking himself half to death route instead.
Heading into the kitchen, I put the coffee maker on and prepare a cup for us both. I’ll let Rome and Ophelia rest for a while longer. They need it.
Taking the cup to Cain, I place it down on the floor while I take the bottle from his hand and set it to one side.
“Hey, Cain.” I shake him gently. “Wake up, man. I made you a coffee.”
He jerks awake, sitting up, eyes wide and reaches for me, his massive hands finding purchase around my neck.
Shit.
Panic hits because, damn, he’s so strong and I wasn’t expecting the attack. He squeezes as I try to grapple his hands and wrestle them from me, but he’s hard to budge. Then he blinks, and it’s as if his brain comes online. He lets go of me suddenly, scrambling back against the couch.
“Fuck. Man. I’m so sorry.” His chest is heaving, and so is mine. “I was dreaming, and it was my father speaking to me.”
I rub my throat, and I can still breathe and swallow, so no harm done, but if it had been Ophelia? If he hadn’t let go? He needs to work through this for sure.
“Here.” I hand him the coffee. “Drink it.”
He sips at the dark liquid, strong the way he likes it. I get my own mug and sit on the end of the couch, him curling his legs up to give me room.
For a moment, there’s just silence, and I steel myself to say what I need to.
“Cain, you can’t take this on your shoulders. It’s not your fault.”
He shakes his head and lets out a bitter, dark laugh. “I’m fucking poison, Mal. It’s in my veins. My brother is deaf because of me. I wasn’t there for him. And then Ophelia.” His voice catches and he turns his face, hiding from me.
Christ, I’ve never seen Cain look like he’s about to break down crying.
“You had no idea of the lengths your father would go to,” I argue. I know I’m right, but logic rarely beats emotion.
“She’s better off without me,” he mutters. “Once I’ve dealt with my father, I’ll leave and run the family business. I’ll take care of my brother. I know she’ll be safe with you two.” He lifts his heavy gaze to me and holds me in it. “You’ll take care of her, I trust that. She’ll be happy.”
Fuck no. My stomach lurches at his words. “You’re not leaving, Cain. You’re a part of this. It doesn’t work without the three of us and her.”
His jaw sets tight. “It will have to, because she’ll never look at me the same way again.”
“I think she will,” I say softly. “And you don’t get to decide that for her.”
“Yeah, well,youdon’t get to decide forme. I’ll make this right, but then I’m done.”
I don’t think he means it, not truly. For a start, he hasn’t wanted to run the business for a while now, and he won’t enjoy being back in the family fold, even with his father gone. Now’s not the time to argue with him, though. And maybe there’s another way to show him how wrong he is. I’ll talk to Roman about things; he’s good at this shit.
Cain stands, walks to the sink, and throws the remainder of his coffee away. “I need a shower, then I’m going for a run. I need to clear my head before I set off to see my fucking piece of shit father, and I want to get there early.” He pauses. “You’re coming, right?”
I nod. “Yeah, you don’t even have to ask. We all will be.”
