I’ve honed those theories, grown through therapy, wrestled my demons, hopefully matured. But those are the ghosts of my childhood that linger like a cat with ninety-nine lives.
No sense in disclosing all of that though. We aren’t quite there yet. So, all I say is, “It seemed like the best way to douse the flames.”
He nods, his gaze solemn and intense, like he’s experiencing it all for himself, which only makes me crave his story more. If he’s honestly interested in building something here, he’ll offer up some of his own skeletons, aside from those that accompany his warning label.
“What happened to your sisters?” I probe while snatching a rubber band from the nightstand and twirling my hair into a messy bun.
A heavy exhale billows past his lips. “You were so open with me, and I’m grateful to have that piece of you. But let’s not get into that today. It was a rough one last night.”
The truth of that resonates because I’ve never witnessed anything so terrifying in my life. He was someone else in that nightmare, shouting orders and commands. Oscillating between terror and rage and despondency. Thrashing. And wild.
But I’m not sure that’s why he won’t share with me. I’m not even sure why he’s here.
“Did they look like you?” I try. If he wasn’t Tytan Reynolds back then, I want to have a firmer grasp on who Andrew Michaels was.
He huffs a little chuckle, wrenching the cap off a bottle of water. “Not really. Genes are weird. Our dad was black. Mom was white.My eye color is close to Dad’s, but I got Mom’s soft brown curls and a skin color in between. Audrey had a paler complexion and blue eyes, like Mom, but Dad’s dark brown hair. And Ella had dirty-blonde hair, but Dad’s brown eyes and a skin color close to his. At a glance, we looked like misfits.”
That strikes me to my core. In part because Ty’s eyes are glossy simply at the mention of his family, which I’m guessing is because he referred to them all in past tense. No wonder he’s haunted. He lost everyone. I can’t imagine having lost my brothers too.
But also because I never really thought about the physical characteristics of my brothers and me. The four oldest have various shades of blue eyes while Jax and I have hazel. Blue peeks through, but … someone donated another gene to muddy it. More proof. More reason to find this Balzano guy.
“Sounds like a beautiful family.” I push past the staggering hollowness blanketing me and switch gears. “So, now that we’ve shared, let’s get back to our plans for the day.”
“What have you been doing?” he volleys.
Excited at the prospect of being his tour guide, I spill. “Aside from the nightclub, I went to a few shows—a subpar magician and a version of Cirque du Soleil that was a bit like an acid trip but incorporated water, which La Lune Noire has never ventured into, so that was impressive. I also frequented several restaurants and the shops at The Venetian—there are gondola rides with singing men there, but it’s a little weird ’cause you’re in the middle of the mall, so I say we skip that.”
“You did all that while hiding out?”
“Yeah, you only live once. I slapped a wig and sunglasses on, gathered my wad of cash and prepaid Visa card, and went on my way. What’s it gonna be?”
He swigs a guzzle of his water, astonished eyes never veering from mine. “Staying in until dark. Then leaving.”
My spine snaps ramrod straight. “Leaving?”
“Yes.” He rises and plucks some clothes from his bag. “We’re moving to a house.”
I’m grateful he didn’t suggest hauling me back to NOLA, but still not happy. “Why?”
“Because we can’t stay here.” His response is edgy, baffling me as to what he’s suddenly upset about, until he adds, “And we need to inform your brothers that you’re safe soon.”
I jump to my feet. “Tell me you didn’t—”
He raises his palm to me in one of those calm-down gestures that never helps anyone calm down. “I haven’t called them yet. We can take a day or two. But they’re my friends. I can’t—”
“Well, they’remybrothers, andIcan. This is complicated, and they … I shouldn’t have dragged you into this.”
“If it’s so complicated, fill me in,” he starts, but whatever he sees on my face has him promptly switching gears. “Don’t start being a brat this early.” He smiles with all the cocky charm he can muster—it’s a lofty amount. If I wasn’t leaning toward the killing-him option, I’d be melting. His brown eyes twinkle in a valiant attempt to cast his spell on me. “There are worse fates than me taking you to a beautiful home that overlooks the city and mountains so we can enjoy a different view together.”
To prove to myself that he’s handling me—here for my brothers and not for me—I poke. “It’s not the house. I don’t like to be cooped up. You stay here. I’ll go explore and either meet you back here or at the house.”
He squares his broad shoulders to me, his folded arms and towering six-two height conveying intimidation as his jaw pulses. “No.”
I cackle and imitate his pose. “Why the hell not?”
His features soften. “Because I want to spend the day with you.”
God, he’s fucking good. He says all the right things, even in domineering alphahole mode.Are they lines?
