She’s been so fucking brave telling me her truth. It’s time I tell her mine.
I lather my hands with soap and begin washing her. “The night before he was kidnapped, I went out to a bar and lied to a bunch of random people about being on a yacht. I even showed photos. The problem was, I cleaned the boat—I wasn’t a guest like I’d told them. I made it sound like we had money and connections.
“The next day, I was hungover, and Elio offered to go into work for me since he bailed on going out the night before. I let him pretend to be me. A man from the night before jumped him on his way to the marina, thinking it was me. Twenty-four hours later, my brother was dead.”
“You were only seventeen, right?”
“Old enough to know better.” I move her back into the spray to rinse off.
Rina hardly notices. Her attention is fixated on me. “You still blame yourself.”
“Wouldn’t have happened without my involvement, so yeah.”
Her fingers trace the tattoo inked on my left pectoral—my brother’s name over my heart.
“I’ve wondered a thousand times over if Craig hadn’t met me if he’d still be alive. His death may not have been for the reasons I thought, but meeting me still could have been the instigator that sent him down that path. But when it comes down to it, you were right—the only one truly responsible is the person who actually murdered him. If I have no reason to feel guilty about the what-ifs, you shouldn’t either.”
My shame is so ingrained that I feel a visceral need to reject her argument, but I’m also wary of saying something that might imply blame on her part, so I weigh my words carefully. A funny thing happens when I consider my response in light of her perspective—a double standard emerges.
“I sound like a hypocrite if I argue, but I don’t know how not to blame myself,” I admit.
“I get that. It’s going to take some work for me, too. But you have to consider, if he’d gone to a pharmacy to pick up meds for you while you were sick, and a hit-and-run driver killed him, would that be your fault? The only reason he was out was because of you, but no one would rationally say you were to blame.”
I narrow my eyes at her and pull her chest flush against mine. “You are making entirely too much sense. I must not have fucked you thoroughly enough.”
A radiant grin brings out the emerald shards in her eyes. “Sounds like you have work to do.”
I have her spun around, hands on the tile wall, in two seconds flat. “Prepare to be fucked senseless.”
“Yes, D.” Her breathy reply has my already rock-hard cock throbbing.
I angle her hips and burrow my way back home, deep inside her. This right here is my heaven on earth, and it’s not about the sex, per se. It’s the trust and connection. The fact that this incredible woman is willing to give herself to me—her safety, her secrets, her very soul—she gives my life more meaning than I knew was possible.
I honor that gift with an orgasm that leaves her legs quivering, and her voice ragged from screaming.
I fucking love that she’s a screamer.
It’s just one of the many ways Terina embraces life with both hands. I can only imagine how vibrant she’ll be without the shadow of guilt and danger looming over her. I will do everything in my power to see that day come. Sooner rather than later.
By the time we’ve finished showering, both of our stomachs are growling for dinner. We head to the kitchen and make sandwiches, too hungry to take the time for anything more complex.
“You seemed off in the car today, so I didn’t want to press, but is everything okay with your parents?” Rina peers at me briefly before taking another bite.
The reminder of Mom’s diagnosis settles heavily on my shoulders.
“Yes and no. My mom’s got some kind of breast cancer and is going to get a double mastectomy in two weeks.”
Rina gasps, her hand coming to her mouth in horror. “Oh God. D, I’m so sorry.”
“She’s in good spirits, and the surgery, from what they said, should take care of it, but it still scares me.”
“Of course, it does.”
I give a little grimace. “It’s not just the cancer. I’ve been a pretty big dick to my parents over the years. They’ve always loved me unconditionally, but I’ve kept my distance out of guilt. I know what I stole from them, and seeing them reminds me of my failures.”
“DiAngelo Farina. It’s time to stop that sort of negative self-talk right-flipping-now. Do you hear me?” Her authoritative outburst is so fucking adorable, I can’t help but smile.
“You giving me orders now?”
