But we do have to do this.
“The insurance adjuster is coming tomorrow,” I remind her quietly, my voice not quite working the way it should. “We need photos of every inch of the mess before anything gets cleaned up, so we kind of do have to do it today.”
That’s one reason, anyway. The other reason, the one I don’t tell her, is that I need to face this place. Now. Before the fear grows teeth and the darkness inside convinces itself this house is where it belongs.
If I run today, I’ll never stop running. I know that. I just need a minute to steady myself. I take it, exhaling slowly and sliding my hand into hers. “We should go in now.”
She studies me for a beat, so goddamn perceptive it almost hurts. “Are you sure?”
“No,” I admit, the word coming out low and rough. “But I need to do it anyway.”
Facing the darkness doesn’t mean surrendering to it. All I have to do is remember that. When Roxie squeezes my hand, it reminds me who I’m doing it for, because that’s what will get me through this.
It’s not just me anymore. Not even just the two guys I grew up with, who have become like brothers to me. It’s them too, but it’s also her. The girl I never thought we’d find who can love all of us for exactly who we are, and the babies currently growing in her belly.
My babies. My family.
“Then we’ll do it together,” she says as she reaches for the door handle. “Come on, tough guy. We’ve got this.”
She sends me a smile that takes some of the weight off my chest, enough that I can finally open my door and step out into the cold mountain air. Dillon and Boone pull up behind us as I round the car, but I don’t wait for them to catch up.
Snow crunches under my boots as I start toward the front door, my feet feeling heavier than usual, like every step toward that house is a step toward something I’m not ready for. But with Roxie’s hand in mine, I keep going.
We step through the front door together, and even though I brace myself, the impact hits like a physical blow as I look around. This isn’t the view I remember from the entryway.
In fact, the destruction is pretty fucking complete. Shattered glass crackles under my boots, bullet holes pockmarking the drywall like some demented connect-the-dots picture. Most of our furniture is overturned, shredded, soaked, or all three. There’s a dried smear of blood on the floor by the stairs where Boone tackled an intruder and another near the couch where I sat after getting hit.
This is the place where everything inside me nearly came unhinged, where I almost became something else, and the air still smells faintly of gunpowder, metal, and fear. My stomach clenches, but Roxie’s fingers lace through mine, warm and steady.
“We’ll fix it,” she says, her voice small but sure. “All of it. I promise. It might even end up being fun.”
I nod, but she says “we” like it’s the easiest thing in the world. What she doesn’t know is that standing here makes my skin crawl with the memory of how close I come to losing myself. Losing her. Losing every last trace of me that desperately wants to be part of that “we.”
That night, as I expected, I fought two battles. There was the one with the men trying to kill us, but that one was easy. Much easier than I thought. The locals Caruso hired were probably the best this area had to offer, but they weren’t as well trained as Boone and me, or as resourceful in a fight as Dillon.
The other battle, however, was one I damn near lost. The one with the darkness inside me that wanted those men’s blood with an inhuman thirst.
But in the end, I didn’t kill a single person. Not one. I stopped every threat, but I didn’t cross that line. I just haven’t decided yet if that makes me relieved or deeply, deeply unsettled.
Boone walks in behind us, sighing as he moves his hands to his hips and surveys the damage. “Wow. It looks a lot fucking worse in the cold light of day, huh?”
Dillon rakes a hand along the stubble on his jaw. His blue eyes narrow, but then he perks up almost immediately.
“You know, a lot of this stuff was getting pretty outdated anyway,” he says happily. “It might just be fun, furnishing the house together for a family rather than a bunch of bachelors.”
“That’s what I said.” Roxie grins at him. “Well, the part about it potentially being fun. I didn’t even think about how your needs might’ve changed now that there are babies on the way.”
“Ourneeds,” Boone stresses, seemingly without even thinking, as he starts picking through the debris. “I think we’re going to have to divide and conquer if we want to get this done today. Everyone pick a room and start taking pictures?”
We nod one by one, then spend the next few hours walking around the house, documenting every crack and hole, and every little thing that needs to be replaced. Somewhere between the ruined staircase and the kitchen where the table lies splintered in half, the mood between us all seems to shift.
Roxie picks up a fallen paint chip from the wall and arches her brows at me. “Okay, but if we have to repaint anyway, maybe that midnight blue I showed you wouldn’t be so crazy.”
I snort. “The one that makes the room look like a moody vampire lives here?”
“Don’t be dramatic,” she says lightly. “A tasteful, moody vampire.”
“Uh-huh.” I sigh, but she’s smiling, and damn if that doesn’t flip something in my chest.
