“I should have killed you that first night,” he deadpans.
I flinch and swallow the lump that’s now forming in my throat. Easton stops me from scooting away with a hand on my thigh.
“Why didn’t you?” I brave the chance of asking something I’m not sure I really want to know the answer to.
“I don’t know. But we weren’t supposed to let you walk out of that shop. And I had every intention of leaving you alone once I was sure you wouldn’t talk. Ishouldhave left you alone.”
“Why did you go after my father, and what do you need with his business?”
“There are rules in my family,” he blurts and leans forward with his elbows on his knees. “When I broke them for you, my father started digging. There’s a lot that I can’t tell you. But we have a reputation in this town. We’re not good people, and my siblings and I will do everything our father tells us to.”
“The man that adopted you?”
He nods.
“He has certain expectations for us, and your dad was just a casualty.”
“How does that happen, Easton? I never shared anything about my past with you.”
“My father wasn’t happy that I let you live. He didn’t like that I found something with you. Relationships don’t live in my world, he’s always made sure of it because he sees them as a distraction. So when I went against the grain for you, and he learned we’d been spending time together, he threatened you. So, I had a choice to make—you or a piece of your father’s company. I told him no at first, I wanted to keep you out of this. But he doesn’t take too well to being denied. We make our riches by making deals with people.”
“That’s what you call beating my dad? A deal.”
“Yes. I didn’t want to do it if that’s what you’re thinking. But like I said, you or him. We told your father the stakes, but he chose his money. All he had to do was sign. What happened today was because he was stupid.”
I let out a soft laugh, though it comes out more as a grunt.
“So all of this was because you let me live?”
He doesn’t use words to respond, but his eyes tell it all.
“Why did you?”
I wait for him to speak, but he doesn’t.
“I understand about your father. I get that you’re not good people. You’re a bad guy, so why did you let me live?”
He backs away, but I grip his chin and make him look at me.
“Why do you keep coming around me? You let me go, I told you I wouldn’t talk. So why? What are you hiding from me?”
He wraps his fingers around the hand I have on his face, squeezing me. “I don’t know how, and I don’t know why—but I love you.”
I suck in a breath. This is the most he’s said to me since we’ve met. Anytime I ask questions, he diverts to something else. But now, knowing this, last night makes sense. The pain he harbored, the need to show me what it’s like to fully be with him, he was testing me, seeing if it was worth it.
He did me wrong and knew that if I found out, I’d hate him. So he let me in, showed me a piece of his world, and made me feel like I belonged.
“You hurt me.”
“I did.”
“I should hate you.”
“You should.”
I place my forehead against his, and we stare at each other. “I think I love you, too.”
“I know.”
