“Because I lost my fight the day Pete lost his.”
Ayda looked up at the ceiling and stayed quiet for the longest time, her chest rising and falling with every breath. Just when I thought she wasn’t going to answer, her eyes found mine again and her unshed tears made them glisten in the muted light. “It fucking sucks, doesn’t it?”
I began to nod slowly, unable to control the corners of my mouth turning down or the twitching of the muscles in my jaw as I held her gaze and felt something inside my chest rip wide open.
“It does when I’m the one who killed him.”
Chapter Thirty-One
Ayda
Murder?
It was exactly what Drew was alluding to, but I didn’t feel a stirring of fear in my body, nor did I feel compelled to flee the room and look for a safe corner to hide in. Mainly because, at some point between falling onto the bed with him and him uttering those words, I realized I’d never felt safer in my life.
With the heat of his body seeping onto my skin, and the intense blueish green of his eyes flashing as they held mine, I knew there was more to the story than that. I saw the pain harbored in the depths of him. Like was meeting like. He was right… I knew that look, too.
I didn’t know who Pete was, but it didn’t take much to see he’d meant a lot to Drew.
Rolling onto my side and reaching for his other hand with mine, I tangled our fingers together and took a moment to catch my breath. In one quiet conversation, this man had stripped me naked and displayed my wounds. I’d spent three years and countless hours hiding them, but there they were, laid bare, and he wasn’t treating me as though I were made of glass.
“Explain,” I whispered, bringing our joined hands downbetween us.
“About how my greed and my arrogance brought about his death?” he breathed out. “Or how I had to watch him die in my arms and I couldn’t do a single fucking thing to stop it?”
“Drew,” I started, with the same matter of fact tone he’d used with me, and then paused as I rolled to my stomach and shuffled closer to him. “I’m not going to sit here and talk about how it’s not your fault or say you had nothing to do with his death. I wasn’t there, and although I know you’re not responsible, anything I say will fall on deaf ears. What I will tell you is this: shit happens. People make shitty decisions that lead them into shittier situations. Whatever you’re feeling, I’m pretty sure Pete would be pissed at you for it. Am I right?”
He stared back at me for such a length of time, it should have made me feel awkward, but it didn’t—not until he sighed heavily and broke contact completely, turning his face away from me and closing his eyes as though in pain.
“I’m not preaching. I’m not trying to hurt you more. I just know that feeling. It’s the one I feel every single day.” Taking a chance, I pushed up closer to him and draped my body over his chest, most of my weight on my hip as I pulled my legs up. Then I repeated myself, hoping for some kind of reaction. “It fucking sucks.”
Drew’s hands reached out, pulling me even closer as his face stayed turned away. It was a touch over sight thing, and though I wanted him to look at me more than anything, I was grateful for whatever he was willing to give. “It’s my burden to bear,” he said quietly, his voice somehow still strong, even though it was breaking.
“Don’t say that.”
“This club, it had never been down that road before. Ipushed and I pushed and I pushed to get us all to where I thought we needed to be, Ayda. My name wasn’t just feared; it was respected, too. Pete gave me that. He taught me how to be who I ought to be. Only I took it too far. I had too many ideas and I couldn’t… I couldn’t get them out fast enough. I couldn’t execute them as quickly as I wanted to. I pushed too hard and he paid the price. Because of me. Because ofme.I got us in too deep and he never let me believe I couldn’t get us out of it. Now he’s dead, while everyone out there still wants more of our blood.”
“Did you respect Pete?” I asked, swallowing almost compulsively. I knew I was asking a question with an obvious answer, but I needed him to open his eyes and see some of the things he seemed to be forgetting, even if it meant getting my head bitten off by him.
“More than anyone has ever loved and respected a brother before,” he answered roughly, turning back to face me. “Did you respect your parents?”
“Very much so,” I said, tracing a pattern on his chest. “And it’s why I keep trying to forgive myself. They were at that bank trying to sort out my financial aid for college. It wasn’t even their bank. They were there to help me and it got them killed.”
The intensity of his stare had me dropping my forehead to his warm chest and breathing in the smell that was so uniquely him. I still wasn’t entirely sure what had gone on, and I wasn’t sure he’d be receptive to what I had to say next, but he deserved to hear it with my eyes on his.
“The reason I brought this up is because you have to forgive yourself, Drew. I don’t know all of the details. You may never tell me, but that’s your choice. What I do know, isthat Pete had a choice—a choice to put himself in a situation with you to begin with. Whether you pushed or not, he could have put his foot down and you’d have eventually respected that, because you respected him.”
“Sometimes we don’t have choices in this life.”
“Everyone has a choice. It may be limited, but it’s a choice. You made a choice that day, too. You’ve also made the choice to accept the responsibility for his death. That’s not wrong, and I am not judging you, but please consider that Pete had a chance to change things just as much as you did.”
His hand rose to my face, stilling over my cheek as though he wasn’t quite sure whether he should close the gap and touch me at all. Shaking his head gently, he dropped his palm to my neck before trailing it along my shoulder, my skin tingling pleasantly under the warmth of his rough skin. “I almost wish I had some of that naivety of yours. I once believed I had choices myself. Not anymore. Now, it’s just this. Life is what it is.” Drew’s eyes got heavy as he sighed and closed them once again. When he spoke, his lips were barely moving. “If you had choices, you wouldn’t be here right now, so I guess I should be thankful or some shit.”
“You think I don’t have a choice? I made a choice to take the punishment for my brother rather than go to the cops like anyone else would have. I made a choice to keep coming back even after I realized that he didn’t do as much damage as you first made out. I had a choice to face down Maisey, but her possessiveness meant that choice led to this,” I said, pointing to the bruise and half smiling. “I had a choice to talk to you in the bar tonight, and a choice to come in here, and I trusted you enough to allow me those. Make no mistake, Drew Tucker, I’m absolutely here by choice.”
A small, barely-there smile graced his lips before he finally gave in and whispered, “Ayda Hanagan needs to learn to walk down safer paths. Ones that won't get her killed, fucked or puked on.” Then his smile fell into a smirk, but I knew he didn't find what he'd just said funny, not in the slightest. He was calling it as he saw it and in his eyes, those were the only things left waiting for me if I continued to choose him.
“You sure do have a way with words, Drew,” I said quietly, shuffling my arms to the side so I could push up and sit on the edge of the bed again. This time, I got up and grabbed his trash can, the bag still untouched, which would hopefully save a lot of clean up if he did puke.
