My heart hammered in my chest, a relentless echo of the chaos I’d just witnessed. The images replayed behind my eyelids every time I blinked, each one more jarring than the last. I struggled to find words, my voice faltering as shock and disbelief warred within me.
“Mellie?”
I stopped dead in my tracks, slowly turning to look at the man, and clearly said, “Don’t call me that. Ever.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Rowen
Regret washed over me in waves, the consequences of my actions settling heavily on my conscience. I never should have told her about the video, let alone allowed her to see it. She had already endured so much pain, and exposing her to even more was thoughtless on my part. Lowering my head in shame, I closed my eyes tightly, silently berating myself for my carelessness. The weight of my mistake was undeniable, and I wished I could take it all back, protect her from the harsh reality I had revealed.
Knowing it wasn’t going to fix itself, I got up and sought her out. I found her in her room, standing in front of the window, her arms wrapped around herself as she looked out at the city below.
Her voice was barely audible as she stared out the window, shoulders slumped in defeat. “I feel so stupid,” she whispered. “He tried to explain it to me once, but I refused to listen. If I’m honest, I didn’t want to listen. I wanted him all to myself. I couldn’t understand how he could live that life, wanting it more than the family I was offering him. But I get it now. He just wanted to protect everyone.”
For a moment, I hesitated at her doorway, unsure if my presence would be welcome after everything. The air between us felt heavy, thick with things left unsaid and emotions neither of us knew how to express. I wanted to reach out to offer comfort, but I wasn’t sure if I deserved to.
Melissa’s voice trembled as she tried to put her feelings into words. “When he talked about his club brothers, I thought he did so out of obligation, almost as if he were required to. But seeing that video, how hard he fought, protecting Danny, I now understand why he smiled when he spoke of his time at the clubhouse. He did so because it was what he loved and wanted. He was one of them. A brother. He belonged there. He wanted to stand beside them, fight with them, ensuring they survived, and he did. He saved Danny and I am so fucking proud of him. But I also hate him, Rowen. I can’t explain it. I’m so angry.”
As her pain poured out, I crossed the room quickly and wrapped my arms around her, holding her close. My embrace was all I could offer in that moment. “It’s okay to hate him, Melissa. Part of me does too,” I admitted softly, my voice steady but laced with shared grief.
She shook her head, her features crumpling as the weight of it all threatened to overwhelm her. “I don’t know if I can do this anymore. I don’t know if I want to.”
Turning her around, I cupped her face, meeting her troubled gaze. “What do you want to do?” I asked, giving her the space to decide for herself. “Tell me and I will make it happen.”
Tears brimmed in her eyes, hanging on her lashes before finally falling. The silence between us stretched long, broken only by the distant hum of the city outside. I searched for words, but there were none that could repair what had been shattered. All I could do was hold her, offering her the comfort of my presence and the quiet promise that, no matter how hard the aftermath was, she would not have to face it alone.
“My heart is breaking and I can’t breathe. It’s too much,” she sobbed, then whispered, “I just want to feel something real.” And before I could even think about what I was doing, I gathered her in my arms and kissed her.
The moment my lips met hers, time seemed to pause, the world beyond the window ceasing to exist. Her breath hitched, her hands trembling as they gripped my shirt, clinging to something solid in the storm of her emotions. I held her tighter, pouring every ounce of regret, apology, and hope into the kiss, desperate to offer her a sliver of solace. When she finally pulled away, her eyes searched mine, raw and shining with unshed tears.
We stood in the hush that followed, our foreheads pressed together, hearts pounding in silent conversation. No words passed between us, but understanding blossomed in the fragile space we shared. In that instant, surrounded by pain and uncertainty, we both craved something honest—something that reminded us we were still alive, still capable of feeling, even when everything around us had fallen apart.
“How long?” her voice trembled, her question barely more than a gasp as she looked up at me, desperation etched across her features. Her grip was tight, almost frantic, as if holding on to me could somehow keep the world from falling apart beneath her feet. I reached up, gently brushing a stray strand of hair from her cheek, my touch soft and comforting.
My words came out low, almost a confession. “From the first moment I saw you.”
She hesitated, her next words quiet and honest. “I’m not ready.”
I understood, and with care, pulled her close. I wrapped my arms around her, letting her rest beneath the weight of my embrace, my head resting atop hers in silent solidarity. “I know, honey,” I whispered. “Take all the time you need. I’ll wait for you forever.”
In the days that followed, I made a conscious effort to give Melissa the space she needed, not wanting to add any unnecessary pressure to the turmoil she was already experiencing. I threw myself into keeping busy, immersing myself in learning, focusing my mind on anything that would keep me from hovering too close. But beneath that surface, there was a single, driving obsession: finding the man who had destroyed my brother’s life and shattered Melissa’s heart. Because make no mistake, the man was a dead man walking, and when I got my hands on him, I would ensure he stayed dead this time.
Hearing the front door slam and the unmistakable chaos of arrival, I rose from Sinclair’s desk and stepped out just in time for Danika to charge toward me. I scooped her into my arms, her laughter bubbling up as she clung to me. Dante trudged behind, exhaustion written in the slump of his shoulders and the dark circles beneath his eyes.
“What’s gotten into you two?” I asked, raising an eyebrow at the whirlwind that had just entered.
Instead of responding, Dante narrowed his eyes at his daughter, his jaw clenched and frustration etched into every line of his face. “I swear she has ADD or ADDHDTV, or PSDDZ, or whatever the hell it’s called these days. She never stops. She’s like a whirlwind.”
I couldn’t help but burst out laughing. The sound was infectious enough that Danika joined in, her giggles lighting up the room. Finally catching my breath, I saw Dante staring at me, his brow furrowed, clearly unimpressed. “It’s not funny, Rowen,” he said, voice low and gruff.
“Oh, it absolutely is,” I replied, grinning as I walked toward the stairs and called out, “Melissa, can you come down here for a second?” In the living room, I lowered Danika gently to the floor, then turned to Dante, the young man I’d helped raise. “You know, she’s just like you. Inquisitive, bright, and she’s got endless energy. Apple never falls far from the tree.”
Melissa’s voice floated in from the hallway. “What’s going on?” she asked, her tone curious but warm. As Danika’s uncle, I couldn’t help but smile at the way my niece’s eyes sparkled before she squealed in delight, dashing across the hardwood and barreling into her mother’s open arms.
Melissa instinctively kneeled, her arms wide, scooping Danika up as the little girl’s laughter filled the air. “Momma!”
Shaking my head in amusement, I glanced at Dante, who was now slumped against the wall. “Daddy over here thinks my beautiful niece has ADD,” I teased, trying not to laugh as Dante groaned.
