I’ve waited my entire adult life for that look—that hunger he exhibited by the elevator. The heat, the care, the concern. And I can’t even celebrate it.
Instead, I’m inwardly plotting my escape.
It makes no difference anyway. No matter the ogling or yearningor electricity between us, he’d never admit to it. He’ll never see me apart from my brothers, which hurts even more now that I’m not even sure I’m theirs.
So, I perform exactly as expected—laughing and gabbing and flitting about. Light and carefree.
By dinnertime, Felicity is fussy, so we say our goodbyes.
Earlier, I flippantly threw out that Janis Joplin reference because it felt like a why-not moment—like Ty and I should throw caution to the wind. Seize the day.
Our sliver of freedom.
But as all the people I adore hug me and bid us farewell with a smile, which is mirrored by my family, I am utterly scorned. It’s all deception.
There’s not a fucking thing left for me here.
I’m convinced that’s the cold, hard truth.
Until Ty leans into my ear on his way out the door, his rasp wetting the lobe with a delicious tingle and his words knocking everything upside down. “You didn’t imagine anything, Little Moon.”
TY
Three fucking days since I’ve seen her, and my head is stuck in an endless loop.
Part nightmare. That’s nothing new—been going on for over a month, and it’s a familiar voyage. One that provides both excruciating pain and a comforting punishment. Sometimes, a lashing soothes.
But the other part is new territory—forbidden fantasy.
That’s an expedition I never venture into. I don’t do off-limits. Not even in my thoughts. Well, never for more than a minute or two. I’m human. My imagination strays to places it shouldn’t—one place it shouldn’t—but I always quickly rein it in.
My self-control seems to be in stark depletion lately.
One second, I’m immersed in carnage, reliving my horrific failures.
The next, I’m drowning in butterscotch.
That’s Rena’s scent—the sweet waffle aroma. I knew it the second she tossed that candy into Wells’s lap.
It seeps out of her skin.
Like a virus.
Infecting me and making me lose my goddamn mind. Maybe she’s been ailing me for years. But it was an invisible illness that I could ignore.
Not anymore. The moment I saw her panic-stricken face, watched her hand claw at her throat, and heard the plea leaving her breathless mouth, she broke me.
What kind of a dick have I been that she’d have to ask if I’d be there for her? I’ve kept my distance for the sake of her brothers, for her, but I’ve always taken care of that family. It was a punch to the gut.
There’s another concern that’s been wrecking me even more though, siphoning the air from my lungs whenever I drift to it.
What the hell happened to lead her to ask?
Something had scared her. I thought maybe she’d overheard the meeting her brothers were in with Wells—which, during the time I was in there, touched upon her birth father being Balzano—but when I subtly poked around, Ivy mentioned that she’d found Rena walking through the front door after it was over.
Nothing is quite adding up, but probing any further is a bad idea. I already overstepped by telling her she hadn’t imagined anything. Calling her Little Moon. But the hurt she’d exhibited in the hallway when she thought I was denying our heated encounter was more than I could bear. It grated on me. Especially as I witnessed her work so hard to hide it, laughing and carrying on, like always. Illuminating the room with her vibrance as though she hadn’t been crumbling into a panic attack—a performance I understand all too well.
So, in a moment of weakness, I made it worse. For both of us.
