Holy fuck.
Wylder’s trusting me with his deepest, darkest secret. Something he’s never told anyone else, not even those he loves and trusts implicitly.
I search his face. “Why haven’t you told them?”
He sighs, his shoulders drooping. “Because they’d react one of two ways. They’d either feel guilty that I took this on myself, or they’d be furious that they didn’t get a crack at him themselves.”
That makes sense. There’s no love lost for the former patriarch, from any of the brothers. “Why didn’t you let them help you?”
His eyes meet mine wearily. “It’s a heavy burden to carry. Murder always is, even if it’s justified. But the murder of your parent? One responsible for giving you life? That’s a weight too enormous for anyone to bear.”
My eyes narrow. “Unless that person is you?”
“Yes.” Wylder nods decisively. “It’s better for me to be the one to struggle with it. I’d rather that.”
“Better for them?”
He frowns, not understanding the direction I’m going in. “Yes. Precisely.”
I sigh, leaning my forehead against his. “Sometimes I want to throttle you.”
He palms the nape of my neck and chuckles. “Ditto.”
“Yes, but you want to throttle me for being a brat,” I say. “Whereas I want to throttle you for not taking care of yourself.”
He pulls his head back to peer at me. “I don’t understand.”
“I know.” I kiss his lips gently. “I know. But trust me when I tell you that you don’t need to carry everything yourself. It’s okay to let people in.”
“That’s what I’m doing. I’m letting you in.”
“And that’s a good first step.” My heartbeat ramps up as I consider his reasons behind it. Hope is so futile. It’s disappointed me time and again. How do I even accept it this time? “But you should let theothers in too. Maybe not today, or even this year, but someday. I think their reactions will surprise you.”
I expect him to dismiss it outright, so I’m shocked when he nods stiffly. “I’ll take the matter into consideration.”
“Thank you,” I breathe. “I’m still a little confused as to why you told me though. Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad you have, but do you really trust me that much?”
“Yes.”
The abruptness of his answer should surprise me, but it doesn’t, because it’s so like him. “What about when this…ends?”
His hand tightens on the nape of my neck as his nostrils flare. “Who says this has to end?”
My mouth goes dry. “It does, right? You’ll get tired of me sooner or later. Everyone does.”
“Are you saying I’m like everyone else?”
“No.” Impatience bites in my tone. Why isn’t he getting this? “But it’s a pattern. I’m annoying.”
“You’re entertaining.”
“I’m hard work.”
“You’re challenging.”
“I’m difficult.”
“You’re complex.”
