There’s a bundle gathering in my chest.
I know he said he’s been training for this since he was young, but just how much of a toll has it all taken on him?
Rolling onto my stomach, I fold my arms on his torso, resting my head atop of my hands. “Have you ever done anything else apart from…all of this?”
Saint’s been opening up to me more and more, and after last night—hell, the last couple of days—we seem to have slipped back into old habits.
Last night felt like something fused back together.
Like there’s never been a day spent apart between us.
He shakes his head, running his fingers through the hair along my back. “Never. It drove me forward with purpose.”
My gaze is fixated on him, watching as he gently plays with the strands of my dark hair, the sensation making my eyes feel heavy again. “What about when we were together? Did you ever think you’d continue to see it through?”
His eyes shift to me.
“I questioned it. More so for the risks that would come to you if shit ever went south. But even when I hadn’t taken over, they got to you anyway.” His voice grows quieter, jaw setting like steel.
I run my thumb back and forth across his collarbone, a gentle reassurance as I watch his gaze drift off with his dark thoughts.
“Neither of us could have predicted that would happen, I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
His throat flexes, and he fixes his intense gaze back to me. “Do you find it hard to talk about?”
I bite my inner cheek. “Sometimes. It depends on how strong my mind is that day. Even then it’s not guaranteed. I actually think about what it did to me before I kill one of them. Seems to eradicate any unnecessary guilt.”
My cheeks heat at that confession.
I haven’t even told Regina I do that; she’s often wondered how I can flick the switch—turn into a killer.
When I step into that role, I think about the shell I became.
Everything else turns to red outside of that.
His hand moves to my shoulder. “Tell me how you got yourself out of it.”
His touch instantly sparks electricity beneath the pads of his fingers, goosebumps trickling all the way up my neck.
Hell, that’s not an easy story to tell.
How most nights were spent being suffocated by the abyss, the light at the end of the tunnel never seeming to grow larger, until it did.
“I did some therapy. Gina and I both went. We started martial arts classes. It helped with the anger, controlling my mindset. But then…” My mouth clamps shut, not wanting to go round in circles with what I was about to say.
Saint’s hand gives me a reassuring squeeze. “Tell me.”
I blow out a shuddery breath. Might as well get it all out, nothing left unsaid.
“I went back a couple of steps after you left. I thought you’d decided to move on, and I know that’s ridiculous to say because I told you to leave.”
“No, it’s not. I shouldn’t have fucking listened to you. I left and took it as a chance to protect you. Stop blaming yourself for that, Indie. I need you to let it go. If you’d have gotten the…”
I sit up, the bed sheet pooling at my waist. “The letter?”
Honestly, that had completely slipped my mind. He told me about it when he broke into my house, and I was too caught up with actually working out if he was fucking real or not to even take a step back and ask more about it.
Then came the avalanche of information after it.
